Welcome to The Rumpus’s National Poetry Month project. We’ll be running a new poem from a different poet each day for the month of April.
All Is Love
Sorry. I’m wrong. Everyone lives alone. All
is not love. All is whatever happens next,
and whatever happens next, of course, happens
in due course, its course, not yours. But all is love,
anyway, still. You get clean. And rain is still
wet. There’s something else in you that’s distinct
from everything else in you. Each scene is a version
of these sexual paradigms, making one feel nothing
is love. You’re being paid to reinforce someone’s
fantasy. You just happen to be dressed up
in this outfit. You’re on a list. You’re on a list
somewhere, though it’s most likely an insignificant list,
something to do with the library or your time
at the donut shop. Still, there your name is,
and you’re catching yourself saying
All Is Love. All is love, like you really believe it.
A glass separates them, these things you say,
desire, and thank you so much, it’s been a huge
pleasure. What are some of the costumes you wore?
Sung by Betty Carter, sung by alcoholics anonymous,
sung all night from the wardrobe in the other room.
The nickel tour begins shortly. And he put a tune
to it, comforting as a door. This world is weird
and full of hipster lyrics. There’s no end
to the garage, as if that were a form of love
or the form of love. But we only live together—
or so the fantasies tell us. As if we were the ante
and whole decades the dice cup. They’re
licking their fingers again, or still. It’s another
alien invasion film, singing Love Love Love
and The End Is in Sight. It’s a film of your neighbors
crowding your windows. The fourth dimension’s
in a happy state of anticipation, flitting about
like it owned the place. Rumor has it that not knowing
is better than finding out. So it’s neighbor against
neighbor. You can join us on all social media. It’s
3 a.m., and the aliens are burning Manhattan.
Listen to John Gallaher’s audio production of “All Is Love” on SoundCloud.
If you like what the Rumpus is doing for National Poetry Month, you’ll probably like this multimedia anthology of original poems we’ve run at The Rumpus over the last three years. Available only for iPad. Check it out!