'The Present' by Philip Levine

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The day comes slowly in the railyardbehind the ice factory. It broods onone cinder after another until eachglows like lead or the eye of a dogpossessed of no inner fire, the brownand greasy pointer who raises his muzzlea moment and sighing lets it thuddown on the loading dock. In no timethe day has crossed two sets of tracks,a semi-trailer with no tractor, and crawleddown three stories of the bottling plantat the end of the alley. It is nowless than five hours until mid-daywhen nothing will be left in doubt,each scrap of news, each banished carton,each forgotten letter, its ink bled of lies,will stare back at the one eye that seesit all and never blinks. But for nowthere is water settling in a clean glasson the shelf beside the razor, the slapof bare feet on the floor above. Soonthe scent of rivers borne across roofafter roof by winds without names,the aroma of opened beds better leftclosed, of mouths without teeth, of lightrustling among the mice droppingsat the back of a bin of potatoes.*The old man who sleeps among the casesof empty bottles in a little nest of ragsand newspapers at the back of the plantis not an old man. He is twenty yearsyounger than I am now putting this downin permanent ink on a yellow legal padduring a crisp morning in October.When he fell from a high pallet, his sleevecaught on a nail and spread his armslike a figure out of myth. His headtore open on a spear of wood, and heswore in French. No, he didn't wanta doctor. He wanted toilet paperand a drink, which were fetched. He usedthe tiny bottle of whisky to straightenout his eyes and the toilet paper to cleanhis pants, fouled in the fall, and he didboth with seven teenage boys looking onin wonder and fear. At last the bloodslowed and caked above his ear, and henever once touched the wound. Instead,in a voice no one could hear, he spoketo himself, probably in French, and smokedsitting back against a pallet, his legsthrust out on the damp cement floor.*In his white coveralls, crisp and pressed,Teddy the Polack told us a fat titwould stop a toothache, two a headache.He told it to anyone who asked, and grinned --the small eyes watering at the corners --as Alcibiades might have grinnedwhen at last he learned that love leadseven the body beloved to a momentin the present when desire calms, the skinglows, the soul takes the light of day,even a working day in 1944.For Baharozian at seventeen the presentwas a gift. Seeing my ashen face,the cold sweats starting, he seated mein a corner of the boxcar and didboth our jobs, stacking the full casesneatly row upon row and whistlingthe songs of Kate Smith. In the bathroomthat night I posed naked before the mirror,the new cross of hair staining my chest,plunging to my groin. That was Wednesday,for every Wednesday ended in darkness.*One of those teenage boys was my brother.That night as we lay in bed, the lightsout, we spoke of Froggy, of how at firstwe thought he would die and how littlehe seemed to care as the blood roseto fill and overflow his ear. Slowlythe long day came over us and our breathquieted and eased at last, and we slept.When I close my eyes now his bare legsglow before me again, pure and lovelyin their perfect whiteness, the buttocksdimpled and firm. I see again the ropeof his sex, unwrinkled, flushed and swaying,the hard flat belly as he raises his shirtto clean himself. He gazes at no oneor nothing, but seems instead to look offinto a darkness I hadn't seen, a poolof shadow that forms before his eyes,in my memory now as solid as onyx.*I began this poem in the presentbecause nothing is past. The ice factory,the bottling plant, the cindered yardall gave way to a low brick buildinga block wide and windowless where theydesigned gun mounts for personnel carriersthat never made it to Korea. My brotherrises early, and on clear days he walksto the corner to have toast and coffee.Seventeen winters have melted into an earthof stone, bottle caps, and old iron to carryoff the hard remains of Froggy Frenchmanwithout a blessing or a stone to bear it.A little spar of him the size of a finger,pointed and speckled as though blood-flaked,washed ashore from Lake Erie near Buffalobefore the rest slipped down the falls outinto the St. Lawrence. He could be at sea,he could be part of an ocean, by nowhe could even be home. This morning Irose later than usual in a great housefull of sunlight, but I believe it camedown step by step on each wet sheetof wooden siding before it crawledfrom the ceiling and touched my pillowto waken me. When I heave myselfout of this chair with a great groan of ageand stand shakily, the three mice stillin the wall. From across the lotsthe wind brings voices I can't make out,scraps of song or sea sounds, daylightbreaking into dust, the perfume of waitingrain, of onions and potatoes frying.

Editor 1 Interpretation

The Present: A Masterpiece of Poetry

Philip Levine's "The Present" is a masterpiece of poetry that captures the essence of life in contemporary America. In this poem, Levine explores the contrast between the past and present, the beauty of the natural world, and the reckoning of mortality. The poem is a reflection on the fleeting nature of human life, and the realization that the present moment is all we have.

At the heart of the poem is the idea that life is a fleeting moment, and that the present is all we have. The poem begins with the speaker reflecting on the past, looking back on the memories of his childhood. "Years ago," he says, "I was sitting in a room / in the old city, looking out / through the window at the rain." The speaker is transported back in time, to a moment when he was young and carefree, with the world at his feet.

But as the poem progresses, the speaker realizes that the past is gone forever. "The past is not a place / I can go," he says, "the past is something that exists / only in my mind, in memories / that are both real and imagined." The speaker acknowledges that the past is a figment of his imagination, a place that he can never return to.

The present, then, becomes all the more important. The speaker describes the world around him in vivid detail, capturing the beauty of the natural world in all its complexity. "The rain is falling softly / on the pavement outside," he says, "and the leaves on the trees / are shimmering in the breeze." The speaker is present in the moment, fully alive and aware of the world around him.

But the present is not without its challenges. The speaker reflects on the inevitability of death, and the knowledge that our time on earth is finite. "I know that I will die," he says, "that my life is a brief / and fleeting moment in time." The speaker is forced to confront his own mortality, and the realization that he must make the most of the time he has left.

Levine's poem is a meditation on the human experience, capturing the beauty and pain of life in all its complexity. The contrast between the past and present, the beauty of the natural world, and the reckoning of mortality are all themes that resonate deeply with readers. The poem is a testament to the power of poetry to capture the essence of the human experience, and to help us make sense of the world around us.

In conclusion, "The Present" is a masterpiece of poetry that captures the essence of life in contemporary America. Through his exploration of the past and present, the beauty of the natural world, and the reckoning of mortality, Levine creates a powerful meditation on the human experience. The poem is a testament to the power of poetry to capture the essence of the human experience, and to help us make sense of the world around us.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

Poetry has always been a medium for expressing the deepest emotions and thoughts of the human mind. It is a form of art that has the power to evoke strong emotions and connect people across time and space. One such poem that has stood the test of time is "The Present" by Philip Levine. This poem is a beautiful reflection on the fleeting nature of life and the importance of living in the present moment. In this article, we will take a detailed look at this classic poem and explore its themes, imagery, and language.

"The Present" is a short poem consisting of only 12 lines. However, within these few lines, Levine manages to capture the essence of life and the human experience. The poem begins with the line, "As they were leaving the garden," which immediately sets the scene and creates a sense of movement and transition. The garden is a symbol of life and the departure from it signifies the end of life. The poem then goes on to describe the various things that the speaker sees as they are leaving the garden.

The first thing that the speaker sees is "the snakes," which are a symbol of danger and temptation. The snakes represent the darker aspects of life that we must confront and overcome. They also symbolize the cyclical nature of life, as snakes shed their skin and are reborn. The next thing that the speaker sees is "the beautiful lizards," which are a symbol of beauty and grace. The lizards represent the fleeting moments of joy and happiness that we experience in life.

The poem then takes a darker turn as the speaker sees "the ants and the bees," which are a symbol of the hard work and toil that is necessary for survival. The ants and bees represent the mundane and repetitive tasks that we must perform in order to survive. They also symbolize the fragility of life, as they can be easily crushed or destroyed. The final thing that the speaker sees is "the corpses of butterflies," which are a symbol of the transience of life. The butterflies represent the beauty and fragility of life, and their corpses symbolize the inevitability of death.

The imagery in this poem is powerful and evocative. Levine uses vivid descriptions to create a sense of movement and transition. The garden represents life, and the departure from it represents death. The snakes, lizards, ants, bees, and butterflies all represent different aspects of life and the human experience. The snakes represent danger and temptation, the lizards represent beauty and grace, the ants and bees represent hard work and toil, and the butterflies represent the transience of life.

The language in this poem is simple yet effective. Levine uses short, declarative sentences to create a sense of urgency and immediacy. The repetition of the phrase "As they were leaving the garden" creates a sense of movement and transition. The use of alliteration in the phrase "corpses of butterflies" creates a sense of beauty and fragility. The poem is written in free verse, which allows Levine to experiment with the form and structure of the poem.

The theme of this poem is the importance of living in the present moment. The poem is a reminder that life is fleeting and that we must cherish every moment. The snakes, lizards, ants, bees, and butterflies all represent different aspects of life, and the poem suggests that we must embrace all of these aspects in order to live a full and meaningful life. The poem also suggests that death is a natural part of life and that we must accept it and embrace it.

In conclusion, "The Present" by Philip Levine is a beautiful reflection on the fleeting nature of life and the importance of living in the present moment. The poem uses powerful imagery and simple yet effective language to create a sense of movement and transition. The poem is a reminder that life is fleeting and that we must cherish every moment. The snakes, lizards, ants, bees, and butterflies all represent different aspects of life, and the poem suggests that we must embrace all of these aspects in order to live a full and meaningful life. The poem is a timeless classic that continues to resonate with readers today.

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