Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Happy Birthday, Stig Dagerman



Happy Birthday, Stig Dagerman
(October 5, 1923 - November 4, 1954)

You did not wish for eternity.
It's raining tonight... unsentimentally.
Bent sunflower stalks bow to you.
Not exactly the outreached hand
that could've kept you with us.

I don't have the statistic handy:
how many sad men
walk each year into garages
and turn ignition switches
with no desert town motel
to drive hard to...
just turn on the engine,
garage door shut,
and suck into their lungs
all of mankind's exhaustion.

Brother of the write-
a-poem-a-day compulsion,
you imagined more from others
than milk-hearted malice...
more from yourself
than confusion
and weeping jags.

It was just a photo-op,
right, that portrait of you,
famed playwright, novelist of the bleak,
within a cluster of beautiful women?
Not the blessedness of love?
Did you wander out later
and embrace marble statues?

Mankind's horror of stars
shining through rain.

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