{"id":6777,"date":"2010-10-28T17:52:30","date_gmt":"2010-10-28T21:52:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=6777"},"modified":"2010-10-29T14:48:25","modified_gmt":"2010-10-29T18:48:25","slug":"two-poems-%e2%80%98the-expected%e2%80%99-and-%e2%80%98what-we-lose-at-night%e2%80%99","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2010\/10\/28\/two-poems-%e2%80%98the-expected%e2%80%99-and-%e2%80%98what-we-lose-at-night%e2%80%99\/","title":{"rendered":"Two Poems: \u2018The Expected\u2019 and \u2018What We Lose at Night\u2019"},"content":{"rendered":"

Allan Peterson<\/a> is a poet and visual artist from Florida. We love his philosophically and psychologically dense dispatches from \u201ca paradoxical world \/ where the expected is the once unexpected.\u201d<\/em> \u2014Dan Chiasson<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

THE EXPECTED <\/p>\n

Indifference does not happen to the garden
\n
or obliqueness to locusts
\n
everything tunes to the incidence of light
\n
these words blooming
\n
into a book with similar urgencies
\n
                 Yesterday fog clouded over the ghosts
\n
or they blinded
\n
couldn\u2019t find us without blood or modifiers
\n
then night the manta
\n
that hangs out its vast exaggeration of fear
\n
                 Weather had again rubbed things smooth
\n
smooth and raw
\n
at the same time with the same velvet and saw blades
\n
a paradoxical world
\n
where the expected is the once unexpected
\n
                 we\u2019re used to
\n
and dedicated to those acceptances with emphasis
\n
like a string of very<\/em>s <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

WHAT WE LOSE AT NIGHT <\/p>\n

Frostbite conscience passion for the absent
\n
             the halt world simplified to introduction
\n
Each time we go there we go there
\n
while losing our coordinates We find our way
\n
             as if we were the home-going pigeons
\n
like the ones in the experiment
\n
prevented in the loft from knowing
\n
the smell of direction by great fans
\n
but when turned loose still arrived
\n
             During flight feathers and bone don\u2019t register
\n
Water and blood reflect radar
\n
             so the flocks are statistasized as raindrops
\n
In sight of the industries venting toxics
\n
the organs speak to each other through annunciate blood
\n
Into the windows go thousands
\n
             gone tomorrow
\n
unlike the apparent tomorrow with its endless life <\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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