Possessed, by Henry Gibson
The late Henry Gibson wrote this poem for my friend Jeff on the occasion of his 50th birthday. I post it here in remembrance.
Possessed
by Henry Gibson
(For Jeff on his birthday – June 27, 2003)
Film documentarians document things
Like why dodo birds died, the creped shape of their wings.
They analyze data with such circumspection
That – name any two subjects, they’ll detect some connections:
Atoms and gingerbread - - - Stonehenge and gin,
Xerox machine and original sin.
They take notes and they film and they tape and record,
So seduced by their stuff that they never get bored.
It’s no big surprise their eyes constantly stare,
For they see things we don’t that are not even there.
Over months, sometimes years, by dribs and by drabs
They assemble the pieces in dimly-lit labs
Until snippets of dialogue which once seemed prosaic
Soar like a symphony and score the mosaic.
The mania recedes. The lips curl with a smile.
Satisfaction returns. But just for a while.
