Going to a Concert

I know it was probably an isolated incident.
Still, we have tickets to see Future Islands
in Pittsburgh less than a week

after the bombing at Ariana Grande’s
concert in Manchester. You and me
and two close friends will be in close

proximity to throngs of strangers
for what has become a popular band.
I know it was probably an isolated

incident, but it does not take a tragedy
for a concert to become full of sudden
lights and screaming. I am not looking to fear

anything. But I am thinking of the children
who left their homes that night with the sunrise
in their eyes, expecting to cry only

at first familiar beat of their favorite song.
And I am thinking of the parents,
stopping at the arena with a car full

of excited kids, telling them to be safe
before watching their beloved become
silhouettes passing first into crowd

then crowded door. And I am thinking
of parents picking up their kids with
a frantic search through running bodies

and lights but only finding smoke
and sirens and sobbing, songs
we fear we’ll hear.

(originally published in Constellations, Winter 2021)

Rob Delaney

Hi, I am Rob Delaney.
I am not Rob Delaney

and he would never begin a five-minute set like that,
but before California dangled blackberries
above my granite mouth,

Rob showed us the way and the truth and the life
(John fourteen-six by the score of silent thumbs)

god, twitter fame was the only thing
that could bring us nearer gods we do not believe in

this big bang of a perpetually expanding following
we cannot fully understand

by choice I never listened to robins
conducting high-frequency symphonies

(but I did read Last Call of the Passenger Pigeon
by Daniel A. Hoyt that summer
and could form the parentheses of a whistle
enough to calculate the slow kettle of tea)

my father would sit on a pig stump
(an oak whose life he ended himself)
and watch birds fly the superhighway,
clouds like rush hour in L.A.

like some hippie saint claiming
all that is God
is not man-made

I always thought of bird-watching as a way
for the elderly to augment their loneliness

now all the young men I know
fetishize loneliness in themselves

 

(originally published in LEVELER – Summer 2015)