I sit at a memorial
for a man I barely knew,
in a house fragrant with wine,
incense and sweat.
The ontology of the past
and its uncanny relation
to the present.
People speak his name
as if language
could persuade the dead
or us.
We are held,
though not home.
A man found dead,
alone,
in his car,
in a foreign city.
The yearning for being
without negation.
We gather to say
he is not lost,
though loss
is the only thing
we know.
The longing for wholeness
that is itself fractured,
never whole, and already
always whole.
The past waits
in the candles,
in the one empty chair,
in the reading
about the wind
from Dōgen,
in our tears and pauses.
About the Author: Jacob Friesenhahn is the author of the poetry collection The Prayer of the Mantis (Kelsay Books, 2025). This poem appears here for the first time.
This is a revised version of the poem “Irrealis” published on 10 May 2026.
The poem is an elegy to Michael Brinkman. The earlier version was written immediately following his memorial on 9 May 2026.