Elegy for Norman Dubie
During sex, I often think of a fact I heard, which is that
during sex, our impulse toward disgust is diminished.
I think this in order to make myself less inhibited.
As some things die back, others rise. Norman died today
and I can’t help thinking about how the person he is
may never be a style of person again. It’s hard to believe
all the things the world’s made extinct, that we’ve killed
off entirely. A normal, healthy process of burning
the brush out of a forest or the annihilation of us all?
I can see the good in what we’ve left behind. Drunk
in the MFA program, I opened my mouth to everyone,
a mouth that was more sticky than wet. Disgust
never occurred to me then. Disgust trampled out
by how big I always tried to be. At that time, Norman loved
to talk big about his sexual competitions, his drunkenness,
all the fame that briefly surrounded him—though now
he is celibate of all things. First real teacher
to die, as many are dying today, throughout the world.
Everyone—or many—are feeling this at all times.
