Philip Levine: Breath

To quote a Poem by Borges, the title of which I forget, "Soon I will know who I am." And as Philip Levine might say, I am in the process of naming myself, of discovering, "What did I bring to the dance?" (Gospel).

In what I consider the central poem of this collection, Naming, Levine endeavors to define himself via a series of Joycian vignettes from his life. In this poem, he shows the reader, "All the small secrets that contain [him]." He and his Brother go through life, "growing into the names they answered to / until they thought they were those names," in other words, without authentic names of their own. It is only through the act of experiencing life that Levine, and the human for which he speaks, actually develops a name, an identity.

That defining moment comes

. . . outside the Avalon at 2 A.M.
when the lights blink off, the kids leave in pairs,
to be alone then, hearing only breath,
your own breath rising to answer with words
you didn't know you knew the pale questions
of the full moon, to know for the first time
you are a name without a number.

I have had this very moment. If you scour my other blog, you will be able to locate it under the entry, "Please, Blue Fairy, Make Me A Real Boy."