the slightest (if ever so much)

 Poems/Art by JH Lee

so much
(tribute to ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’
by William Carlos Williams)

so much depends on a little turn
a little tweaking left or right
a red wheelbarrow
might not make it without
the necessary directions
so much depends on just a little
course shift
projecting destinies and such

crayon marked outlines
on coloring book paper
pasted on an asphalt road that meanders
from here all the way to there
a million miles or so
give or take a yard
‘nary a mean ole' man’ can possibly
come to the exact length

so much depends on proper calculations
iotaed on every piece of soiled tablecloth
a revolutionary theory may be in the works
to finish off the year
if not today
with something significant for mankind

so much depends on no more looking back
after this one last year passes
into hardly a memory
some kind of existence merely

so much depends on having
the right tools to work with
kept sharp and clean
not useless, dirty
knowing dull is really purposeless
taking up precious space in the shed
earthly baggage
bladder bursting

it does seem like
so much depends on so very little
if ever truth be known
knowing truth
that big things just get in the way
no need for idiosyncratic postulations
on a global scale
or dogmatic geriatrophs
or a new Regis Sisyphus
sandblasted off Camus, his Godot
or some pedantic mythoscopic
Anglo-Saxon warrior type Beowulf

today's rhyme marks
the heavy cornerstones
of the Catman's great wasteland
so much goddamnit depends on
driving out hatred
pushing it far, far to bay

AND now the rhyme unwittingly comes to an end
pressed time after time immemorial

all, such expectations
all great Dickensian ones for sure
in arousal that's desperately certain, natural
forcing out juices of post-coital ecstasy

so very, very much depends on faith,
faith alone always
a single word that counts
for a ton-weight
of tooth and nail
no abuse would make suffer

because so much depends on intangibles
so much on the weather of course
on rainwater and white chickens
so much on the mood of the moment
so much on the flapping of butterfly wings
in coastal Belize
or any other place, obscure
of remembrance
of years gone and forgotten
so much


JH Lee (’93, ’10)