In Memoriam: Jason Shinder, 1955-2008

Jason Shinder died on April 25. He was 52. Here is a poem that he wrote in the mid-1990s:

Work
for Stanley Kunitz

Poem is difficult when it's still dark,
lying in bed without sleep.
Poem is difficult entering the kitchen,
another working day.
The poem I once loved made breakfast
while I wrote down my dreams.
I remember the first poem , brown hair piled high
above a never-to-be nordic smile,
a crown of lit candles and leaves.
When I mentioned the word love, keeping it on my tongue,
poem said, yes, yes, love,
but neither of us really knew.
I swore never to hurry poem, never say,
What time is it? Are you ready?
I played Frank Sinatra singing
the summer wind came blowin' in,
a glass of wine on the table.
I wore nothing under a black, silk robe,"
read poem the great poets.
Where is the poem of June 6, 1975,
sitting before the window of my father's house?
Poem dressed in purple with the promise of Spring.
Poem of the moon dreaming in its October night.
Let's face it. Poem loves me
but doesn't love me enough.
Poem just wants to be adored,
swinging from bar to bar, eighteen years old.
Maybe poem will be the light I need.
Maybe it's dark inside the body no matter how bright the poem.
Maybe we'll marry. Maybe we won't. No matter.
                   Poem is a window open and a faint breeze.

– Jason Shinder

Comments

[Laura Orem]

Thanks for posting this.

I still can't believe he's gone.