for D.
Robert Lowell loved the way Vermeer used
light (“grace of accuracy” he called it),
won Pulitzers with his words, yet abused
alcohol and wives, staggered into fits
of breakdowns. I suppose, like us, he must
have felt undeserving of grace, that too
much light can blind, burn gold talent to rust.
Last night, south of the garden, I told you
how, in new light, we feel at first like blind
Homer, powerless to show how Sungod
blotted out the day, how Windgod divined
the brave warrior off course, to foreign sod
then home again. But hear what Homer says
to help begin his “Odyssey”: he prays.
Roger Armbrust
April 2, 2001
