Returning to Rilke
who
was all about loneliness –
seeking
it, that elusive core
whose
perfection was denied the artist
by
human noise . . .
Returning
once again
to
the exalting struggle
to
comprehend him
is
an exquisite loneliness in itself.
Who,
to steal the poet's language,
is
there
in
all of family or friends
to
even begin to care
about
this quest
to
rise to that plunge?
Who
comes off the golf course
out
of the nightclub
mall
or boudoir
to
stand alongside the poor reader
even
to watch him watch him
wrestle
with the angel?
—by
Dan Carpenter
Bio:
Dan Carpenter is an
Indianapolis native and resident and a freelance writer. He has
published poems in Poetry East, Illuminations, Pearl, Xavier Review,
Southern Indiana Review, Maize, Tipton Poetry Journal, Flying Island
and other journals. He also has published two books of poems, The
Art He’d Sell for Love (Cherry
Grove, 2015) and More
Than I Could See (Restoration,
2009).