Geoffrey G. O'Brien

Geoffrey G. O'Brien Poems

I bypassed all the compromise,
The first ten problems of speech
And the latest, the sharpest, the contest,
Then began, having already fallen,
...

To remember people in the act
Of speaking is to love them
And not the turquoise substrate
Redon supposed was all there was
...

Control has been candied and exchanged
So many times it feels like the night
Of the day, a troubled ride through
A beginning whose motor announces
...

What follows is terms and classifications, the West
Of speech congratulating itself within
A system so complex there's no way not to be
Effective. Just as they had planned the streets
...

An away of practice the other is
Like a river out of acts the other is
Hapless, unheard, with marks upon him
Having dallied in tarrying unwisely
...

The winter, it was the winter all
the usual things happened,
I have forgotten what
would travel from the north
...

The experience of leaving
one category for another,
of smooth being colder
than rough and of
...

Geoffrey G. O'Brien Biography

Geoffrey G. O’Brien is the author of People on Sunday (Wave Books, 2013), Metropole (University of California Press, 2011), Green and Gray (University of California Press, 2007), and The Guns and Flags Project (University of California Press, 2002). He teaches English at the University of California, Berkeley and San Quentin State Prison and lives in Berkeley, California.)

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I bypassed all the compromise,
The first ten problems of speech
And the latest, the sharpest, the contest,
Then began, having already fallen,
To rise just less, weaker than
My chore, yours, made else
By othering, by day by day,
The schedules, the routes, task
Whose claim I forgot to throw off,
Rising less but somewhat up anyway
With a kind of strength for having
Done so several times before.
I mean all times so far
Which is the taste of coffee gone
This latest one, and that it sticks
Like nothing else has ever done.
It isn't a calamity so much
As a disaster that it's not one.
Things already were real, are
Never just. Did not just get,
Can't help being so. This
Massive ordinary cloud
Where I surrendered to
Filling out a form in the rain
That doesn't come or does,
Sent down or kept in overplus
Till the next storm's approved,
The face notified of its context,
The sequence continuing west
West I said west, turning up
To receive some all,
To celebrate that share of sense
Breaking into day then run
After it as through gray games
I plan to win by losing only
Every time but one, the next
To last or after that, though
What it's called when it comes
I don't, I do, pretend to know.

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