World Class Poetry Blog

Poet Ron Silliman’s Brass Ring, My Green Envy
24 November 2007, the poet @ 11:02 pm

Two days ago on Thanksgiving Day, Silliman waxed poetic about his long-lasting relationships with his circle of poet-friends. The circle includes Rae Armantrout, Lyn Hejinian, Tom Mandel, Bob Perelman, and several others.

His beautiful litany of love begins with a historic presentation of General Washington at Brandywine. Then he began to give thanks for his friends, the aforementioned fellow poets. Silliman and his friends are collaborating on a project called Grand Piano. They’ve known each other for more than 30 years, he said.

I’ve always envied these kind of relationships. I’ve never been able to keep them. I have friends I haven’t spoken to in years. I have former friends I’ve spoken to even less. The problem, I am sure, is with my temperament. On the surface, I am the nicest guy on this side of the moon. Underneath, I am merely a volcanic cauldron of heat waiting to spew lava and ash. There were times when Vesuvius would have been proud.

But I can’t ascribe all my failures to anger. Sometimes it has merely been fate or an unaccounted for change in direction, either in my life or the other’s. Such things happen. But I’ve noticed that many people can maintain friendships at a distance, even over long years of going without face-to-face contact. I’ve never been able to. Again, it’s temperament. I guess the friendships just haven’t been that strong.

We always go away with good intentions. A vow to call or write, but it rarely happens. If it does happen, it goes on for a little time then trails away like the words of a bad song relegated to $1 bins.

Some of the people I have lost contact with over the years have been very good people. I loved them. I’m sure they loved me. But the love wasn’t strong enough to keep our conversations going. I know it’s my fault. I’m just not a fervently frilly, emotionally-attached, love-puddling kind of guy. I’ve always been withdrawn and reserved by nature, outgoing in an imaginative sense but not in the temperamental sense. Slow to warm up, speedy on the cool down, cerebral, detached, but loyal to a damned fault. Some of my friends have given me good reason to toss my loyalty like a stone; others haven’t and we parted ways any way. I seem to be better in the short term. I don’t know why.

Perhaps when psychologists of the future analyze my prose and poetry they will uncover the depths of my soul and unravel mysteries. But for now, I’m stuck with the green in my eye as I watch those like Ron Silliman, who seem to be much better at the human side of things, finger the brass ring of friendships. Funny, the best things in life can be enjoyed at close range, or admired from afar, but never both.

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