The Afterlife: Letter to Stephen Dobyns
Hayden Carruth
American Poetry Review, May/Jun 1999
You live in a sinking nation, Stephen, in a stinking
Time. America is falling apart. We look down in
Astonishment, but mostly in dismay. The other day
When I met Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Madison
On the plaza they turned their backs on me. I
Understood them. I’m a recent arrival, tainted
With degeneracy, no matter what my personal
State of innocence or guilt. Alas, they say
They can tell it in my speech. They say the spectacle
Of presidents and professors impeached on charges
Of trivial misconduct for patently greedy
And partisan ends is more than they can stand.
Who would have thought America could become
A nation where the putsch, the coup, the revolution
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Of the swine could prevail against the common
Will. Stephen, we conclude the common will
Isn’t strong enough, not any more, the corruption
Has reached so deep and spread so far. You
Must learn again to live in the common shame,
As in the days of slavery and the massacres of the
Natives. You must learn to live again in
Dreadful isolation, a castaway. Oh Stephen,
For the first time I’m actually glad I’ve escaped,
Even to the nullity of the afterlife, even in spite
Of all the beauty and comradeship I’ve lost.