Is Vanishing
is a pretty princess / is ripe for parody / is a dork / is as mad
as hell, and not going to take this anymore / is at two with
nature / has had it up to here with winter / is moving / is
putting things in a row and then knocking them down one by
one by one / is James Dean / doesn’t understand why
sportscasters don’t snicker when they say “Magic Johnson” /
is on repeat / is bursting with fruit flavor / knows he can’t
have you / is crushing your head / is close to midnight and
knows Tivo® makes it happen / is electric! / is a solid object
moving in interplanetary space, of a size considerably smaller
than an asteroid and considerably larger than an atom heading
straight for you! / is funny ha-ha, not funny strange / bends
metal with his mind / is running for cover and discovering
the difference between clay and silt / runs / jumps the fence
/ clears the magnolias / breaks through the glass door /
catches the pie / saves the day / has been shorn / feels it all,
sometimes all at once, but often it comes in waves of
incremental periods of rushed excitement / missed the
announcement on the loudspeaker to assemble, then laid
down in a ditch and pretended to be dead / is a sad tomato /
wonders what business is it of your where he’s from, friendo?
/ is alone at the movies / needs a bigger boat / plays guitar in
the mirror / is uncool / uses his neighbors’ names for his
characters / bangs the drum / is sharing apples with the
orchard / feels like a zombie / is aware that there are things
here that might resemble backwards motion / begins with a
capital letter and proceeds to make a movement across the
page / is open to sophomore slumps / is okay with the idea
that wind won’t blow through your hair when we kiss /
squeaks when he walks / knows the distance has been
murder / spits when he talks creating monsters all around /
lays motionless on the hardwood in the hotel room / is on
his back waiting for an itch to scratch / wants to believe in a
heaven and will go on living as if he does / is a self-serving
seahorse / is a lion with earmuffs / is a turtle dragging his
shell behind him / is a pigeon with a parachute. / can’t have
it all / can’t feel his legs / imagines a day without sunshine
and smiles / brings himself back to life every morning at 2:50
am / is a worldwide fashion icon, pop culture princess, and a
global brand powerhouse / thinks of a happier time / begins
to notice when you’re not around / falls asleep anytime he
wants / is sad to see you go / abandoned himself and those
he cares for / is not deaf / heard the phone ringing and
realized it was on the screen / originally cast the role as a man
/ changed everyone’s lines the day of the shoot / can’t
remember a time that he laughed so hard / shares an affinity
for you / dresses like a clown when he’s in Wisconsin /
pretends dollar coins are sunken treasure / wishes he could at
least breathe underwater / handles the bludgeon himself/
responds accordingly / thinks tee vee is better than film at
the moment / wants wine and cheese this time around / can’t
believe it’s still light outside / doesn’t mind the extra fifteen
minutes it takes to get there / fades to black / feels better
having seen everything he has seen / can and will / stays as
the credits roll / puts the match in the gas tank. Boom.
Boom / doesn’t understand how anyone could ever write a
book on accounting / wishes he could still smoke in this cold
theatre / burns the house to the ground to save everyone
from embarrassment / throws the garbage can through the
glass window / hangs from the bottom of the space ship,
screaming / did everything, everything for you / knows that
at this moment he is the only one to ever do this one thing at
this exact moment / wants to know if you heard that / stands
on your street holding the boombox high / drinks your
milkshake / is one in a long line of disasters / is a cannibal
and a thief who steals and steals and steals everything from
everyone / is honored just to be nominated / wishes Heath
Ledger was still around / knows that nothing can bring back
the hour of splendor in the grass / has provided a pair of
safety glasses and some earplugs under your seats. Please feel
free to use them / knows this happens. This is something
that happens / lives in 3-D everyday / would say, “that’s
that,” Mattress Man / buries his head in the sand / is a
mouseapotamus / gets lost in the mise-en-scène / can’t count
on you / feels relieved to know that tomorrow the sun will
still be the sun / is convinced his gut has shit for brains / is
making lists of his favorite albums and putting them in order
of release, importance, and when they were purchased /
heads for the hills / wishes his fish wouldn’t eat his friends /
borrows things, bends them, and then never gives them back
/ rewinds / dives into the madness / brings up things at the
wrong time / wonders what went wrong and where he could
get it repaired / carries a book with nothing in it / believes
that statues like being settled in grassy areas in the shade /
values your opinion, but really only wants you to agree with
the decision he has already made / can’t decipher between
want and need / breaks down and goes to the record shop
again / uses his rearview as camera 1 and sideview as camera
2 / knows where he can find you when he needs you / opens
the box of ghosts slowly and closes his eyes quickly / knows
a carpenter’s cup when he sees one / breaks bread with the
masses / pokes holes in the jar in order to breathe / breaks
the waves / kills the sheep / influences strangers / pretends
to write poems / winces at the thought of being admired / is
a well-respected man / can’t control his shrugging / would
love to chat, but he’s off to work right now / sleeps on a bed
of California stars / destroys things with jackhammers and
mallets / snores in his sleep now / remembers the diving
board that was converted into a bench for bonfires / walks
the long walk / is [ ] / is Jack Kerouacing his way
through page after page of nonsensical bullshit / is
sharpening his teeth / is content with this time around / is
taking the stairs to Mars / is taking a train / knows Judd
Apatow / calls his own phone just to hear the busy tone /
hangs around outside until the last person leaves / is still
alive, despite what you may have heard / finds you lovely and
distracting / has a weakness for angora sweaters / drinks
coffee, but hates the taste / killed Superman / does his own
stunts / thinks the joke is still funny / thinks Mary Tyler
Moore is the only person who should wear Capri pants /
can’t tell the difference between Bill Pullman and Bill Paxton
/ wants you to be happy no matter who makes you happy /
likes you the way you are / could drink a case of you and still
be on his feet / is ordered in a system of color-codes and
decimal points / is not your wishing well or your front porch
swing / is close / is not finished /
| Andrew Terhune |
|
levelheaded: Is Vanishing
“Is,” of course, is vanishing. The author of this poem is vanishing, too. Sadly, friends, we are all vanishing. But poems remind us we’re here. Poems have the ability to last.
Given Andrew Terhune’s “Is Vanishing” catalogs the fleeting moments of one’s existence, its center is as good a place as any to begin discussing it. Halfway through, the speaker literally or figuratively “stands / on your street holding the boombox high.” The allusion, as those down with the Brat Pack will quickly recognize, is to the most memorable scene from the film Say Anything. That title is Terhune’s mantra.
As he flies from one topic to another, thought and sentiment prove to be as goofy, devastating, beautiful, pathetic, and, perhaps most importantly, as momentary in the poem as they are in our daily lives. The guy who “breaks through the glass door” early on, five lines later “is a sad tomato.” That sad tomato “bangs the drum” before he “lays motionless on the hardwood in the hotel room.” A few lines later, the same glass-breaking, drum-playing, motionless, sad tomato “is a worldwide fashion icon.” Try wrapping your brain around that.
Given our complex, ephemeral nature, Terhune’s documentation of his thoughts and feelings validates his very existence. If we want, we can find connections in the stream of information he offers. Not long before he goes Cusack on us raising the boombox, the speaker “puts the match in the gas tank. Boom. Boom.” He “feels it all,” but recognizes he “can’t have it all.” He “dives into the madness” and “remembers the diving / board that was converted into a bench for bonfires.”
“Is Vanishing” is aptly laced with film and television references; the experience of reading it is something like watching a movie made up of rapidly changing scenes from a thousand different titles. The result is one memorable story in the making—a story that, in itself, is also a round character whom we can relate to, a regular ol’ “mouseapotamus.”
– The Editors
