Hymns to Hymnself
1.
He had his haiku too, as who does not.
Where there are compounds there will be
molecules, thence atoms and apothegems. Eagles
will appear high overhead
screaming unheard in the ecstasy of sex
and Walt, down here, will hear
and make an annotation. That is how
poetry operates – now,
in his day, and in old Edo.
2.
He hated to be talked of when he was
out of the room, fearing to miss
some wild encomium he might agree with
and add to the great mass of his blurbs.
That was just part of being
All-Encompassing. He was,
in Himself, the Compleate Lover,
male and female, rough and tender,
dark and light; as such, a star,
a little jealous of those who might think
to be his co-stars. Look up at the night sky
(he did, all the time). Do you see co-stars there?
-- Tom Disch (1940-2008)
April 10, 2008
If Whitman wrote with more of Tom's constraint,
I'd read him more, and with much less complaint.
I knew Tom Disch--he shared a little apartment on Riverside Drive with one of my co-workers. All of us were just out of college and working our first full-time jobs. Tom was kind, a bit shy, out to his friends though not in public. None of us really knew how hard it would be to make our mark as writers. I was glad to see that he made his, and sad that he died too soon. The world isn't any better now, but we would have enjoyed getting together to gripe about it.
Posted by: Jacqueline Lapidus | February 12, 2022 at 10:43 AM
Tom Disch is one of my favorite poets, partly for his wonderful wit, partly for, as illustrated here, his self-portraiture is much deeper and more real than Whitman's.
Posted by: David Schloss | February 12, 2022 at 12:46 PM