Vox Populi
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Robert Okaji: Dream Score
—After “Mood for a Day”
Starlings everywhere.
In the street, on the snow. On the wires.
Darkening the staff of this dream’s musical score
in eighth and sixteenth notes. So quick, fluid.
I empty my mother’s ashtray of its treasures—
various picks, the broken watch, a mandolin bridge,
that lock of my wife’s hair—then peer through the amber
glass at a distorted day. What looks back at me?
Another afternoon adrift.
More birds, more
snow, more darkening. The downy
woodpecker eating suet
upside-down. And all
the little notes
gathering
between lines,
saying, don’t bother,
you can’t do this.
You can’t. You
can’t.
~~~~
Robert Okaji’s first full-length collection, Our Loveliest Bruises, will be published by 3: A Taos Press in the fall of 2024 (not posthumously, he hopes).
Copyright 2024 Robert Okaji
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To know this gentle man is to know his beauty, patience, intellect, brilliance. For years, I’ve read his poetry over and over and get flashes and strings of clarity, but it re-starts on another plane the next time I read it. I’m not in the Community of Poetry–I’m far too literal. But knowing Robert, I know what an artist can bring to the art, and what he delivers to his beneficiaries. He wrote a poem for me about 20 years ago, about a made-up game my (bio)sister and I used to play in our playhouse. Each reading sends me off in another zone of meaning; another aspect of the memories; another feeling to be explored. I suspect this will continue forever: the gift that keeps on giving. Robert is an unlimited ocean of creativity and love. And this is a man who spent his working career manipulating numbers and budgets and administrative shenanigans in a world of academic who often resented our efforts. Part of me wishes he had been writing poetry instead–but then our paths would never have crossed. I’m lost in admiration of how he is facing down the cruelties of mortality, and the beautiful expressions he’s extracted along the way. We could all learn from his broad and generous spirit. The sister he referenced, Emily, and I, know that if anybody can extort beauty from between the lines, even when they aren’t there, it’s Robert.
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Debbie, what a lovely tribute, but I have to disagree with you on one point. You are indeed a poet.
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Bob wrote me a note today. He agreed to let me publish it here:
Dear Michael,
Thank you so much! I’ve posted links on FB and my blog, and will also do so on X.
All things considered, I’m feeling pretty good, though I have been a human yo-yo for much of the past six weeks: the immunotherapy drugs, which I’ve been on since diagnosis, have stopped working, and the cancer is spreading. The oncologist knew of a clinical trial which seemed perfect (the drug being tested was designed to combat a particular strain of mutated cancer gene cells, which I possess), and after weeks of “is a spot available,” “do I qualify” etc., I signed the papers (SO much paper!!!) and was six days away from starting when I received word that I’d been disqualified because the latest MRI had detected a new brain lesion. Oh, the irony! To be disqualified from a cancer trial because of, well, cancer. So twelve days ago, I started a new chemotherapy regimen, which also targets the same mutated gene sequence, but in a different way (I don’t understand any of that stuff). We’ll see how that goes. I picture machetes and battle axes, but then I have a medieval bent. The chemo has slapped me around; the nausea was bad for nine days, but has abated mostly in the past three or four days. Yay! Anyway, I’m still ornery and feeling optimistic. I may yet be enrolled in the clinical trial. At any rate, the hope is that this treatment will buy me additional time. Had my cancer manifested five years earlier, I would not be here today. The recent medical advancements have been astounding.
Two of my sisters from other mothers flew in from Texas on Thursday, and we shared much laughter, many hugs and conversation. Friday we went to a local apple orchard. The ladies and I sat at a table, sipping root beer and munching on snickerdoodle and peanut butter cookies, while Stephanie, her son Matt, and Wayne (husband of sister Debbie) picked apples. Yesterday I baked a cobbler and made a simple pasta dish, because nothing makes me happier than feeding family and friends. I was queasy at one point and had to lie down for a while, but the sound of laughter and spoons clinking against cobbler bowls gave me the most intense feeling of contentment, of joy. There is family, and there is family of choice. By some miracle, these ladies chose me, and I love them dearly.
Life is good!
With joy,
Bob
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When no one was looking, I let myself in to the house of his poetry, just a few steps down a stair from here, ventured through room after room. There’s the loveliest cross-ventilation, and one can smell fragrances from the yard. I too will buy the forth-coming volume once its available, and hope to visit again many times. This is poetry I relish, I’m certain I can find my way back when its time.
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Yes
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“through the amber
glass at a distorted day. What looks back at me?”
A poignantly humble and full-of-beauty poem…
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Yes it is. I’ve been reading and publishing Bob’s poems since I first started VP ten years ago. I’ve always been surprised that he didn’t have a full collection out there. Now he will.
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I am struck with the spaciousness of this poetry and how Robert puts together such a compelling experience with such simple elements. I believe in this lovely, trustworthy Art. I welcome him to tell me more about life and the world, and in so doing, poetry itself.
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A beautiful love poem to the world, and the amber ashtray like the amber of memory. The imagery of musical notes and birds makes is a kind of synesthesia, blending music and image, the afternoon itself saying “you can’t.” Go on, sing, be. But he can sing and does. I am so sorry to hear about his cancer. I’ll be getting this book.
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Thanks, Mary!
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I have been following Robert’s poems for some time, so I knew about his cancer before I read the poem. I, too , love the music and the strength of his poems. Thank you for this one star time when crows are congregating at dusk.
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Thank you, Barbara.
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During this time?
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I clicked on his name by the copyright notice. It adds perspective to his you can’t lines. All the anticipatory grief, the swirls of life in an upside down world. Carrying on in the face of termination. Many of us have seen something like what he sees, but few can match the beauty of his poem of response. The music. The love of the world. For me, so sad, yet healing for the reader, if we take it on with courage. the terrible struggle, the daily facing, the resilience. Peace to Robert Okaji.
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Robert has terminal lung cancer. His first book is coming out soon, and it is one of the most beautiful collections I’ve ever read.
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