John Ashbery has a very unique style. Many say he is the best poet in the US currently. Nothing better to learn from the best I say. So I tried to read his poem and write a poem in his style. I am probably not catching everything in his poem (listed first below); but he will likely not catch everything in my poem (being submitted for publishing). This is part of the "Top 75 2010" project where I am trying to learn from the top 75 American poems of 2010.
Alcove by John Ashbery
Is it possible that spring could be
once more approaching? We forget each time
what a mindless business it is, porous like sleep,
adrift on the horizon, refusing to take sides, "mugwump
of the final hour," lest an agenda—horrors!—be imputed to it,
and the whole point of its being spring collapse
like a hole dug in sand. It's breathy, though,
you have to say that for it.
And should further seasons coagulate
into years, like spilled, dried paint, why,
who's to say we weren't provident? We indeed
looked out for others as though they mattered, and they,
catching the spirit, came home with us, spent the night
in an alcove from which their breathing could be heard clearly.
But it's not over yet. Terrible incidents happen
daily. That's how we get around obstacles.