Four Poems
Christopher Bernard
[Total Pages: 5]
Bernard Page 1

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Vita Contemplativa

Not to act, not to move -- to have done with
    doing -- that is all:
very un-American. To sit it out, on the bench,
    under the maple trees,
and let the others run and glory,
sweating, while we pick out patterns in the
the tearing of the grass, devil twisters in the
and nod smiling encouragement over a coke. It
    seems so easy.


Everybody at one time wants to be in on it -- the
we randomly reverie, must lie in there somewhere
     -- it looks
wonderful to be out there, knocking them dead,
cynosure, observed of all observers,
admired by crowds, beating the tracks with
    quivering legs,
the heavy sweat dying in deflations of
That must hold the secret of happiness -- it looks
    so grand.
Wouldn't it be fine to be out there, doing that --
    being loved
by everybody!