for c.s.

My morning is your evening:

I think, I worry—as your day’s cares float away.

My evening is your morning,

My dreams, your day.

When morning light blinds me

And Boston trains noisily run,

Your Calcutta sky dissolves

And whispers, There. That’s done.

You live near the warm earth’s middle;

I, near the top, on the other side, and far away.

Electric storms connect us,

The internet’s continual day.

Electric telephone,

Busy luminosity—

The world buzzes.

Am I busy, or lazy?

Let the hurricanes come

And push the warm air here

As winter darkens the crowds

Of this cold holiday year.

We celebrate in costumes

And jackets and candles and snow.

You put away your sari

And miss things which I don’t know.

The earth lies between us;

All we have is mind

Sniffing electric evidence:

Are you good? Am I kind?

My poem laughs—it has always been this way.

Always distance; always night chasing the day.

Always this! always this!

What is far, close; and the close, far away.






  1. Prabhat said,

    October 29, 2015 at 4:41 pm

    It’s awsum mam

  2. maryangeladouglas said,

    October 30, 2015 at 3:28 pm

    This poem is incredibly beautiful. I kept rereading it and each time I reread it, it was even more beautiful. Always, always this, distance, confusion of spheres resolved into an everlasting music. This in my opinion is an immortal poem, a transcedent poem (transcending even the strident blare of technology, referencing it as though it were a mere cloud in the Romantic landscape; a thing I believe no poet has ever done)

  3. Edward Barkat said,

    October 31, 2015 at 3:37 pm

    I like your thoughts. Keep up. May God continue bless you.

  4. noochinator said,

    October 31, 2015 at 5:30 pm

    Here’s a reading done by poet Daniel Haberman (1933-1991) back in 1981 at Books & Co. in NYC:

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