The Hill

This normative hill

like all others

is transparently accessible,

out there

and in the mind,

not to be missed

except in peril of one's life.

Do not muse on it

from a distance:

it's not remote

for the view only,

it's for the sport

of climbing.

What the hill demands

is a man

with forces flowering

as from the crevices

of rocks and rough surfaces

wild flowers

force themselves towards the sun

and burn

for a moment.

How often must I

say to myself

what I say to others:

trust your nerves—

in conversation or in bed

the rhythm comes.

And once you begin

hang on for life.

What is survival?

What is existence?

I am not talking about

poetry. I am

talking about

perishing

outrageously

and calling it

activity.

I say: be done with it.

I say:

you've got to love that hill.

Be wrathful, be impatient

that you are not

on the hill. Do not forgive

yourself or other,

though charity

is all very well.

Do not rest

in irony or acceptance.

Man should not laugh

when he is dying.

In decent death

you flow into another kind of time

which is the hill

you always thought you knew.