Daniel Wolff: Pick of the Week [ed. Terence Winch]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Drift of the World

 

You are not forgotten. How could so large a part of us ever be?

When you left this life, a marker dropped. Time swirled slowly past, and who

we remembered you as worked itself free. But even if current carried your memory

off, tide brought you back. We forgot a little, then remembered more. And through

that give and take, you stayed right here. The only thing that washed downstream

was the way we remembered you. All we need is to narrow our vision—

focus on what matters—and back you come, perfect, as if in a dream,

your one hand lifted in a wave. You remember us! And we have forgotten

nothing, nothing. How could we? If we forgot you, we would be lost. Never

mind that other shore—where we supposedly go and you are supposed to be

waiting. In this world, this world, we have to have you, have to remember.

Why won’t life stop? Why must it always pull everything, even you, away? We

stand right here where this all began and watch as the memory of you (who

we are – what else?) drifts. We do what we can: we keep forgetting you.

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Daniel Wolff's latest book of poems is More Poems about Money (Four Way Books, 2022). [“The Drift of the World,” written for poet William Bronk, first appeared, in a slightly different version, in The Literary Review.]

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                                               Daniel Leary, Bill in a Red Chair, monotype, 20 x 16, 1997. Portrait of William Bronk (1918--99).

Comments

[Janey Tannenbaum]

You can also read a great piece on Bronk written by Daniel here:
https://www.theliteraryreview.org/book-review/why-nobody-reads-william-bronk/

[Julie Kelston]

Touching poem- so organically captures the ebb and flow of grief ... and the unadulterated essence of a person that remains
" The ( good ) that men do, lives after them
The evil is oft interred with their bones"
Julie

[Jack Skelley]

perfect. Thank you Daniel. And Terence...

[Grace Cavalieri]

Rilke talks of turning our bitterness into wine, which what Daniel does.

[E T Gray Jr]

Oh this is so moving. Thanks.

[Bill Nevins]

Daniel and Terence, thank you so much for this poem, to be treasured and shared. It's the tenth year anniversary this year of my dear son Liam's death in combat, and in recent years we have lost so many good friends, have we not? This poem brings them to us.
Again, gracias, brothers.
Bill

[A E Nicholas]

So impressive that a poem about grief can uplift the reader. Even not knowing the dead poet, the reader is drawn into his heritage and loss. Perfectly done. Thank you.

[Mary Jo Renzi]

As always, your poems make me think and feel. MJ

[Don Berger]

What a remarkable poem, and the toughest kind to write, I think, a personal, true, autobiographical message to someone in particular, and Wolff does it with freshness, phrasing that's forceful and new, while his speaker also manages to stay on the rails. The poem's originality and mode remind me of a poem by the great Hoelderlin, which David Ferry masterfully translated and calls "She Speaks Across the Years," from his book Of No Country I Know, New and Selected Poems and Translations. I'm so glad Wolff wrote this--I'm so impressed by it, and glad too Terence that you picked it. Thanks!

[Panio Gianopoulos]

The tidal pull of the language is beautiful and subtle, meanwhile the grief rages, cries out. Stunning.

[clarinda harriss]

Ditto to all the preceding. I can't help thinking one much smaller ad probably uttery trivial additional thought--re. the image of Bronk's "wave"--an old saying (?) I once heard: "No pun is too outrageous for a serious poet."

[Eileen]

Lovely

[Maggie]

I'm saving this poem. It will come in handy.

[bella pollen]

"In this world, THIS WORLD, we have to have you, have to remember."

Poignant this line as it's THE plaintive cry of grief but Drift is also a reminder that whenever, however we think about the person we've lost, we bring them back into our life.

[Anne Harding Woodworth]

This poem definitely transcends William Bronk's death, which is why, I gather, there is no epigraph or "i.m.o." letting us know its specificity. The information in brackets is purely editorial and interesting but not essential. It is a poem of universal grief for the death of any loved one, and as such is perfect. I enjoyed the essay, as well, in The Literary Review.

[Terence Winch]

Jack:  Thanks for the comment.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Bill. Always good to get your response.

[Terence Winch]

Thanks, Don. I always value your take on these poems.

[Eileen]

A very moving poem. Love the artwork.

[Rosanna Warren]

A tough-minded poem. Bronk would have applauded. Resolutely unconsoling: "We keep forgetting you." And at the same time, you honor the departed poet, truly. Bravo.

[Peter Kearney]

There is a tidal wave and ebb in these flowing lines, but why not drift to that other shore? Those who are there need not merely wait, but perhaps we can commune with them according to that lovely phrase of more than fifteen hundred years ago, the "communion of saints." To move that way is a gamble, but might it not seem worth taking?

[Jeff Zenick]

Yes, This is what I have experienced too. You have captured something shared in these words.

[Simsun Greco]

Tender. Thank you, Daniel.