"Deep Cover Costumes" by Mark Wallace

View this email on a browser Forward to a friend November 28, 2017   Deep Cover Costumes   Mark Wallace

Surely the body is made                         of stranger                                     things than politics                                                            can steal:           the tangled                                     residue of stars,                                                 the plastic                                                 bag and orange           peels I kick past                                     the bridge, flaming nerves splayed                         across ancient and forgotten avenues, the stomach-heavy goodbye                                     to others that always           feels a limit                                                 on anyone's remaining days I see now                         I really did           believe that the stories                                                            of languages breaking                                     open the embedded                                                            money source                                                                       were the victory                                                 of changing grandeur over the paltry measured                                                 ties misnamed time—                                                                       I could never believe           that people meant the counting, the stacking, the definitions                                     the dividing,                                                            that those could be more           than misunderstanding                                                                       even when                                                                       burned in iron;                         The world is simply not anything any of us                                     say of it our names are strange delusions           pulling us back                                     from a brink we are always                         falling through—                                                            it has no shape                                                            no words                                                            it is                                                            not a brink                                                            we are not                                                            anyone there is                                                            no falling            Copyright © 2017 Mark Wallace. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "'Deep Cover Costumes' is part of my multipart long poem 'The End of America,' a work centered on the geographical and cultural conditions of southern California, where I've lived since 2005. I wrote the poem in spring 2017 when I, and maybe many other U.S. citizens, was questioning how the political life of my country had become what it had and what could be done about it. At the same time, I was wondering about the limits of my own understanding of the world and asking what parts of existence could not be accounted for by cultural and political conditions. The poem explores how cultural realities can become a cover for things we don't understand and are maybe trying to avoid understanding, how insistence and certainty can become a way of ignoring the fact that much of what we claim as knowledge is really made of stories we've invented to protect ourselves from the vastness of the universe." —Mark Wallace   Mark Wallace is the author and editor of more than fifteen books and chapbooks of poetry, fiction, and essays. His most recent poetry collection is the book-length prose poem Notes from the Center on Public Policy (Altered Scale Press, 2014). He lives in San Diego. Poetry by Wallace   Notes from the Center on Public Policy (Altered Scale Press, 2014) "America: Hepatomancy" by Alexandra Teague "6th separation meditation" by David Antin from "Offworld" by Anne Waldman Help Support Poem-a-Day   If you value Poem-a-Day, please consider a monthly donation or one-time gift to help make it possible. Poem-a-Day is the only digital series publishing new, previously unpublished work by today's poets each weekday morning. The free series, which also features a curated selection of classic poems on weekends, reaches 450,000+ readers daily. Thank you! Thanks for being a part of the Academy of American Poets community. To learn about other programs, including National Poetry Month, Poem in Your Pocket Day, the annual Poets Forum, and more, visit Poets.org.   You are receiving this e-mail because you elected to subscribe to our mailing list. If you would like to unsubscribe, please click here.   © Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038