The Boiling Water
When I can’t think of what to write and the internet has run out of news for me, which happens sometimes actually, or sometimes if I’m just looking for other people’s words instead of my own, I dig up poems and read them. Sometimes I even read them out loud and my dog looks at me quizzically when I do. I’m not dramatic about it or anything it’s just that anything beyond “Treat?” and “Ollie, NO!” are incomprehensible to her.
Right now I can’t sleep and I still love this poem by Kenneth Koch, which I dug up a few months ago and go back to from time to time, one of those times being now. It just gets better and better too, so don’t be all ADD - read it through to the end. It won’t kill you.
The Boiling Water
A serious moment for the water is
when it boils
And though one usually regards it
merely as a convenience
To have the boiling water
available for bath or table
Occasionally there is someone
around who understands
The importance of this moment
for the water—maybe a saint,
Maybe a poet, maybe a crazy
man, or just someone
temporarily disturbed
With his mind “floating”in a
sense, away from his deepest
Personal concerns to more
“unreal” things…
A serious moment for the island
is when its trees
Begin to give it shade, and
another is when the ocean
washes
Big heavy things against its side.
One walks around and looks at
the island
But not really at it, at what is on
it, and one thinks,
It must be serious, even, to be this
island, at all, here.
Since it is lying here exposed to
the whole sea. All its
Moments might be serious. It is
serious, in such windy weather,
to be a sail
Or an open window, or a feather
flying in the street…
Seriousness, how often I have
thought of seriousness
And how little I have understood
it, except this: serious is urgent
And it has to do with change. You
say to the water,
It’s not necessary to boil now,
and you turn it off. It stops
Fidgeting. And starts to cool. You
put your hand in it
And say, The water isn’t serious
any more. It has the potential,
However—that urgency to give
off bubbles, to
Change itself to steam. And the
wind,
When it becomes part of a
hurricane, blowing up the
beach
And the sand dunes can’t keep it
away.
Fainting is one sign of
seriousness, crying is another.
Shuddering all over is another
one.
A serious moment for the
telephone is when it rings.
And a person answers, it is
Angelica, or is it you.
A serious moment for the fly is
when its wings
Are moving, and a serious
moment for the duck
Is when it swims, when it first
touches water, then spreads
Its smile upon the water…
A serious moment for the match
is when it burst into flame…
Serious for me that I met you, and
serious for you
That you met me, and that we do
not know
If we will ever be close to anyone
again. Serious the recognition
of the probability
That we will, although time
stretches terribly in
between…
About this entry
You’re currently reading “The Boiling Water,” an entry on Personism
- Published:
- 10.11.07 / 2am
- Older:
- Beth Dow: Online + @ JB
- Newer:
- You Call This Living
October 15th, 2007 at 7:14 am
hmmmm. serious for the necklace is when it is in a knot.
…and time stretches terribly in between. you coming to paris?
November 4th, 2007 at 11:50 am
hi jen! I just happened upon your blog and fell right smack into this poem.
thank you for this. it is a strong ‘Yes’. I’ll be squirreling it away for rereading as well.
relatedly I have been lucky enough to glimpse mysteries in water about to boil…life in the universe B.P. (before pasta): i call this one the Event.:
http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=104023265&context=set-72057594080954912&size=o
and this one Buddha and the crowd
http://www.flickr.com/photo_zoom.gne?id=104023264&context=set-72057594080954912&size=o