Angrily Standing Outside in the Wind

by Brenda Hillman

     —kept losing self control,

  but how could one lose the self

  after reading so much literary theory?

The shorter “i” stood under the cork trees,

the taller “I” remained rather passive;

  we were angry at the greed, angry

that the trees would die, had lost interest

  in the posturing of the privileged,

the gaps between can’t & won’t…

  Stood outside the gate of permissible

  sound & the wind came soughing

through the doubt debris

(soughing comes from swãgh—to resound…

echo actually comes from this also—)

i thought of old Hegel across

    the sea— Weltgeist—& clouds

went by like the bones of a Kleenex…

it’s too late for countries

but it’s not too late for trees…

& the wind kept soughing

 with its sound sash, wind with

its sound sash,   increasing

bold wind with its sound sash,

increasing bold—