---

Transfer

"The three stages of Santa Claus:

you believe, you don't, you are."

--Michael Johnston

 

Despair is the latest bus trend.

This is not about particulars;

this is a despair for the sake of itself.

 

Two women are trying to be miserable

so they take the first bus downtown.

When they have no more choices,

they collapse, slipping

the metallic steps

toward the undesirable sidewalk.

 

This is no way to live.

But it sure beats the mall.

 

Six years ago, a young man

found a phone card on the bus seat

behind him. He should have used it

instead of pinning it to his bulletin board,

thinking of the woman

who never gave him hope.

He was a trendsetter, this guy.

 

On top of a car lot showroom,

a massive inflatable Leprechaun

dances with thirty degree winds.

It's not interesting to most people,

but this is a bus of believers.

Amazing, they say,

grabbing seats.

 

Twice a day,

the bus stalls in front of the post office.

It's too late for the people inside

to even pretend

anything would be theirs,

but still they hope, some of them.

 

Somebody in the back of the bus

will take a latter from a backpack

and read what she wrote,

her penmanship making him remember

everything he once let shatter.

It's not just the words in purple ink,

but the return address in the upper corner,

like she spent hours writing,

making love to infinite envelopes,

getting it perfect for him.

---

Raspberries

for Naiose

 

We either made love or didn't,

got married or thought why bother,

but we were indeed in a Church Tower

and we did walk the marketplace

in search of raspberries and photographs

and when you lost your wallet

and we blamed the gypsies

(which is, evidently, not racist

in Europe), we ate each raspberry

as if it were a singular attempt

to address the notion of fate.

The fact is, your wallet wasn't stolen.

The fact is, several days into my month

abroad I had not yet met you.

The fact is, my friend, gesturing

toward you, you need, he said,

to meet her. Trust me, he said, trust me,

you'll wonder only what took you so long.

---

Portrait

Today is James Joyce's birthday

& it means nothing

& I don't care

&, for several hours, my wife

& I have been both brooding

& arguing my cancerous insensitivity

& she's gone to bed frustrated, falling out of love.

 

I see a copy of Dubliners propping a table in the corner of the bedroom.

I look out the window -

snow is falling,

reminding me that, above all else,

she & I & this that nourishes us

are all very much alive.

---

 

Some Q&A with Jason Olsen about these poems:

 

What was the genesis of these poems?
I started writing "Transfer" both from personal experience (I was taking the bus quite a bit back when I first wrote it and -- sadly -- working at a mall) and from the impetus of the epigraph. That quote was in a poem my late uncle had once written and, while I can't say how original the thought or line is, it really struck me as having something to do with the sadness of realizing something you believed in isn't quite what you thought it was and the redemption that comes about when you understand that what you thought was lost has actually become something better. The poem is sort of a tapestry of where I was and what I was seeing at the time -- I would jot down notes while riding the bus and then sort of fictionalized a few things. I think it makes for an interesting collection of moments that hopefully amount to a real-world response to the ideas of naive hope, disillusionment, and redemption that my uncle's quote introduces.

"Raspberries" was written for a friend I met in Prague a couple of summers ago and works on a few levels -- it does involve a few inside references that only a handful of people would get, but it also speaks on something larger, this idea of the beginning of a friendship and if there is anything that creates a sense of wonder in me, it's the realization, as it's happening, of something very significant that you're stepping into. In this case, it's a friendship that has carried through (in spite of distance) for a few years. Sometimes you can't recognize these things as they're happening, but there still comes a moment where you can say, "wow, that was something very significant in my life." And I think the moment where you meet someone who will end up a close friend and the first moments you share with that person are filled with a sense of wonder and anticipation.

"Portrait" came about when, obviously, I was reading too much Joyce (if one can read too much Joyce which, I argue, you most certainly can). I wanted to write a poem in which two sections argued with each other--I wanted a first section that presented a totally dismal reality and then find a way to stay true to what I had written in that first part, but to bring it to a place that would provide some sense of hope and possibility.


How have these poems changed from their first drafts?
These particular poems haven't changed as much as other poems of mine, I don't think. I played around with tenses a lot in "Transfer" because I wasn't sure when the poem should be happening and I eventually copped out and had the poem playing with different tenses throughout (as if what was taking place was going on at all sorts of different moments in time). I also moved a few stanzas around to find the arrangement that allowed things to fit together most effectively. I also removed a section that ultimately didn't fit (don't ask about it--it's long gone for a reason). "Raspberries" is also close to its original form, with the exception of a lot of tinkering I did with the last few lines. I love those moments that occurs right before something very significant happens and I wanted to strike the balance between properly capturing the moment before you meet someone new and keeping it out of the realm of the sentimental. In earlier versions, I feel victim to both tendencies. Hopefully this one is closer to where it ought to be. Finally, "Portrait" iis pretty much what I remember in the first draft. I did a lot of work revising it in my head so before I wrote a single word I had a fairly accurate idea of what it was going to look like. That ended up being what was best for the poem.

How do you see these poems as fitting in with the idea of "wonder?"
I see each of these poems addressing a different aspect of wonderment -- the possibilities of life, of love, of rebirth. For me, to wonder is simply a step from being able to believe and these are poems about understand what it means to believe in something. There's unquestionably something to behold in that and thinking about that is a wonder unto itself.

Do you see any influences in any of these poems?
Certainly the Joyce influence is undeniable in "Portrait," but looking at it again, there seems to be something of Charles Simic in it (who I was reading a great of deal of at the time). There's a oratorical quality and a meandering sense of place and line to "Transfer" that reminds me of Robert Gregory and the "quirkiness" I was attempting to create in a few of the stanzas was certainly influenced by James Tate and Matthew Rohrer. As for "Raspberries," I wanted to do something straightforward with a voice that balanced on the edge of playfulness at times, and I can turn to Mark Halliday and Mary Reufle for that. Certainly, with all poems, it ends up being about individual poems and poets, sure, but there's the feeling that none of it could happen without a bigger picture of influence and sometimes that's not just poems or even written literature--sometimes the things, people, and places around you influence the shape and craft of the poems as much as they shape the content.