Heather Christle
Introduction by Lisa
Olstein
Although IÕm a believer in the essential
alchemy that occurs between written word and readerÕs mind, in the creative
acts good writing instigates in its audience, I canÕt shake the uncanny feeling
that Heather ChristleÕs poems donÕt need me or any reader to bring them to
life. They invite us, to be sure, to join their endless adventures by virtue of
their thoughtfulness towards their subjects, in all their complexities, and
their readers, in all their humanity. They challenge us with a frequently
wicked sense of humor, a refusal to play by anyone elseÕs rules, and genuine
daring. But they are so clear, so powerful, they seem to breathe their own air
as if they are, in fact, heretofore undiscovered animals, happy to wait,
happier still to be revealed. To sit down to breakfast with them isnÕt to salt
your meal with pleasant diversion, itÕs to sit down to breakfast with them, strange and watchful creatures
inhabiting the room. ItÕs to wonder if they might like to eat your breakfast or
to eat you for breakfast, a possibility thatÕs strangely appealing.
In the way that aurora borealis arenÕt
reflections of the sun but windblown particles of the sun itself, ChristleÕs
poems are genuine articles, actual substance and experience—of ideas,
emotions, impulses, characters, characteristics—powered by an unfailingly
generous, intensely intelligent, exhilaratingly willing mind. Prepare for
syntax to not only reinvent itself but to reveal your own unconscious habits of
mind. Prepare for trees to tease you, for your family to consist of a pair of
orange buoys out there in the bay, for owls to arrive like bullets. Prepare for
great joy and real sorrow. Reading these poems, you are the infant reaching out
your waving hand only to realize that the lovely floating object
is—terrifyingly, delightfully—you.
Half-Hedgehog Half-Man
talk to me I said okay said the tree and it twinkled not like that I said I already know that talk to me about
something new
you monster
it said
that was a little better can we try this I said from a different perspective so we swapped
places I was
still the monster
this would be easier if you could see the video in the video there are all these
owls like bang
bang bang all
over the tree
which I was now
only that part might be better in writing because I was also still myself half-hedgehog
half-man so that
could be hard to
communicate visually
and also my man-jaw is glass
Plot the Height and
Distance
now you have gone and died again you were my
family I am up
here in this
tree it is not
impossible I can
still see you
you are two buoys out there in the bay are you waving at
me do you miss
me when I move I
shake the tree
and no other part that is polite are you damp are you salty my family you are so orange so much a pair and
rooting for caution
I have fallen out of my tree IÕm looking up and the tree is still shaking it was not me making
things happen I
watch a gull fly through the sky the tree circumscribes why not say that it
flew right into my eye
a pain might arrive from anywhere except the bay you are in the bay and watching you are my
family I want two
rowboats one
below one to
cover me from rain
I saw a cloud coming in the air is changing the cloud flew right
into my eye
and did not hurt me
Good Luck Everyone
hunger has the man purchase a bun the man eats the
bun then he has
no bun and no
hunger the man lives
in Illinois
hunger has the shape of a different state a square one one hunger is much
like another and
in the park
similar statues donÕt move in a similar way is anyone hungry has hunger prompted anyone to wander slowly
across state lines
in search of food and tracking one kind of soil on top of
another in the
book the man is reading
there is a tree-based society
the women and the men all live in trees the man has an
affection for sticks
for jokes about sticks each one goes and then it ends but they are different
Our Sense of Achievement
trees do not mean to cause us harm trees move themselves
across the planet
in wide invisible lines trees are all around us like fire once there was a song
called
Everything We Know About Chairs but nobody wrote it where would you even
begin every day
many things do not happen a perfect love a perfect winter you donÕt fail once you keep failing just when you think
youÕve got it right
arrives some spring
Kinds of Weather
I got so mad when I died in a balloon with all my hope there were people blanketing the
earth like
placemats I
loved those people
they were wheat to me they sustained me but I couldnÕt show
it I was so
mad and I
died itÕs not
normal for a human to be contained in a
basket aloft in
blank air like
water in a red cup
I took the shape of my death and my anger there was no forgiveness there were all of these
clouds
stratocumulus
cumulonimbus
I punched them
they were some pieces of water
I looked down
at all the people
they were units
they shifted around they clumped up into little factions there was no way to
join them from
the balloon I
couldnÕt hear a thing
not a gull
and not a mosquito nothing would become of me now I was learning like a machine I installed my face
in the basket
started chewing
I chewed the air
until there wasnÕt enough to still name it I ate up the earth ate up those
people and then
I was nowhere
and they could not save me
Landscaping
I have to love the baby with the gold
car in his
mouth I have to love
the grass the
grass the
asphalt I just
make up the rules
and then I obey them I have to fall back up into my tree like an envelope not enough
postage itÕs a
sign I should
never try again
I have to love town lines they are always very funny you can move the
baby back and forth between them almost nothing is a
toy if you donÕt
use it use the
baby a baby
brightens any
yard in which itÕs placed
Anywhere in Particular
I will leave this house and go out into the
weather there
are only so many ways to get out I will use the window as a shield and nothing can hurt
me not rain not migration I need a truck I need to drive
forever down the highway carrying nothing going out to meet the owls hello owls on a man-made hill hello men you dead men beneath a separate
weather and now
I am back in the truck
reliable
plain I
could drive across Nebraska and no one would notice I donÕt need to hide
at all anymore
something in the night sky changed so slightly I have to pay attention and yes their mouths are
ahead of the sound
there is no one to tell I tell the truck I tell Nebraska I am leaving there are a million
ways out one day
I will live on an island all the time I will send out a parcel when the mail boat
arrives look empty mail
boat now you are
full