John Ashbery

Postlude and Prequel

Would I lie to you? I don’t know what to say to you, and the season is coming into season just now with long-awaited words from back when we were friends and still are, of course, but the tides pursue their course each day. Perturbing elements listen in the wings, which are coming apart at the seams. Is it all doggerel and folderol? A cracked knowledge? Monkey journalism? This is better than the other overlooked good that dried up a while back and whispers. The results, if any, won’t last too much longer and I meanwhile am on my way to correct you about the tickets and their availability. We pitch and stiffen, elbowed by traffic mysteriously descending the other lane of the avenue as lamps burst in many-benched Central Park.