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FOR LOVEPoems 1950-1960
FOR LOVEPoems 1950-1960
ROBERT CREELEY
Charles Scribncrs Sons
-
Hew
York
1962 Robert Creeley Copyright This book published simultaneously in the United States of America and in Canada -Copyright underthe Berne ConventionAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons.13 15 17 19 21 23 25 27 29
C/P
30 28 26 24 22 20 18 16 14 12
Poems
in Partsi,
i
and 2 were
Erst collected as follows:
All in Part
except "Naughty Boy," inin Part 2 in
THE WHIP by Robert Creeley
(Migrant Books, 1957)
"Naughty Boy" and
all
A FORM OF
WOMEN
by Robert
Creeley (Jargon Books in association with Corinth Books, copyright 1959 Robert Creeley)
appeared in the United States in the Mountain Review, Poetry (Chicago), following periodicals: Evergreen Review, Measure, The Naked Ear, Texas Quarterly, Neon (Supplement to Now), Hearse, Yugen, Ark 11 Moby 1, Inland.of the poems in Part 2first
Some
Black
poems in Part 3 Erst appeared in the United States in the following periodicals: Between Worlds, Big Table, Chelsea, Elizabeth,of theFolio, Inscape,
Some
New
Directions Annual,
The
Nation, National Review,
Poetry (Chicago), Quagga, Trobar,
White Dove Review, Yugen.
Printed in the United States of America
Library of Congress Catalog Card
Number 62-8903
ISBN 684-71738-7
for
Bobbie
who makes
all
things possible
PREFACE
Wherever it is one stumbles (to get to wherever) at least some way will exist, so to speak, as and when a man takesthis or that step
for which,
god
bless him. Insofar as
poems are such places, always they were ones stumbled into: warmth for a night perhaps, the misdirected intention come right; and too, a sudden instancetheseof love,trives a
and the being loved, wherewith a world (of his own mind).to
man
also con-
It
seems
me, now, thatIis
I
know
less of these
poemsif
than will a reader, at least the reader forwrite for anyonelike to please! It
whomI
I
have written.
How much
should
a constant concern.
That
however, hopeful and pompous, and not altogether true. I write poems because it pleases me, very much I think that is true. In any case, we live as weis,
can, each day another
there
is
more, say, to live than what there is, to poem as close to this fact as I can bring
no use in counting. Nor live. I want theit;
or
it,
me.
R. C.
CONTENTSPreface
.
.
7
1
1950-1955..
Hart Crane
15
Chanson
Le Fou
.
.
A
Song
.
.
17 18..
35 Don't Sign Anything The Conspiracy 37. .
.
.
.
The
Crisis 19 For Rainer Gerhardt.
I. .
Know
a
Man..
.
.
38.
20
The Riddle 21 The Rites 22 The Rhyme 23 The Innocence 24 The Ball Game 25 The Carnival 26.. .
The End The Death The Lover
39
of. .
Venus41..
40
.
.
A
Counterpointfor
42
.
.
Wait
Me
.
.
43.
.
.
.
.
27 The Kind of Act of..
After Lorca
The Business 44 The Disappointment The Warning 46. . ..
.
45
.
28. .
A29
Form. .
of Adaptation
.
.
47
The Dishonest Mailmen The Crow 30 The Immoral Proposition. .
Song
48.
.
.
31
For
W.
C.
W..
.
.
3233 34
49 Naughty Boy Like They Say 50 La Noche 50.
.
.
.
.
Apple Uppfle
.
The WhipAll
.
.
51
The Operation
.
.
That Is Lovely in
Men
2Juggler's
1956-1958
Thoughtof
.
55
The Three
Ladies
.
.
61
A
Form
Women..
.56
Oh NoGoodbye
... .
6263..
They Say
58.
The
Friend.
.
59
The
Interview
64..
Please
.
60
A
Wicker Basket
65
The Bed
..
66..
Saturday Afternoon
.
.
85
Just Friends
The Wind.
..
67 6869
The
Invoice.
.
.
8687 88
Somewhere
.
Air: "Cat Bird Singing"
New
Year's..
..
The Hero 70 The Way 72 The Traveller...
89 Song Bird Lady.
.
90..
.
7375
For a FriendEntre
91 91
A
Marriageto
.
.
74. .
Nous.
.
.
She Went
Stay. .
A
Sing Song
.
92
Folk Song
75
And
.
.
93.
Ballad of the Despairing
Heroes
.
94..
Husband
.
.
7678
Damon &.
Going
to
Bed..
95
Pythias
If You 79 The Tunnel The Saints The Names.
.
.
8081
.
The Flower 96 The Letter 97 The Place 98 The Souvenir 99..
.
.
.
.
.
.
82..
For the83
New. .
Year101
.
.
100
A Gift of My Love
Great Value.
84
The Door The Hill
104
3
1959-1960. .
The AwakeningKore. .
107
1
08. .
A Token The Man.
.
.
123.
.
124.
The Rain The WomanMidnight. .
109.
.
no
in112..
The Memory To And 126 A Wish 127. .
.
125
.
The KidLady
..
Song113
.
.
128.
in Black..
TheNot
Sign Board
129
The Plan The Joke The Song The BirdYellow..
.
114 116.
Now..
.
130.
The TimeSong.
131
.
.
.
117 118
132.
119. .
The CracksJack's Blues
120.
The Rescue The Paradox The End of the..
133.
134
.
121.
Out
of Sight
.
122
135 Day The Women
.
.
136
For Fear
.
.
137
The Gift .. The HouseTheAir:
138. .
139.
Young WomanPool. .
.
140
'The
141 Love of.
a
Woman"..
.
142 143
The Rose 148 The Eye .. 150 Love Comes Quietly After MaUarm 152 The People .. 153 The Wife 154 The Snow 155.. . . . .. .
.
151
.
Mind's Heart
.
.
Fire
The Name 144 The First Time .. 146 The Figures .. 147
156 For Friendship 157 The Gesture .. 158 For Love ..159. .. .
1
1950-1955
HART CRANEfor Slater
Brown
He had been stuttering, by the edgeof the street, one footstill
on the sidewalk, and the otherin the gutter.. .
like a bird, say, wired to flight, the wings, pinned to their motion, stuffed.
The words,senses.
several,
and
for each, several
'It is
very difficult toIt
sum up
briefly
.
.
."
always was.
(Slater, let
me come
home.
The letters have proved insufficient. The mind cannot hang to them as it couldto the words.
There are ways beyond what I have here to work with, what my head cannot push to any kindof conclusion.
But
my own ineptness
cannot bring them to hand,the particulars of those times
we had talked.)
"Men
kill
themselves because they are
afraid of death,
he says
.
.
."
The pushbeyond andinto
Respect, they said he respected the ones with the learning, lacking it
himself
(Waldo Frank6 languages)
& his
What had seemedimportant
While Crane sailed(so that
to
Mexico
I
was writing
one betrayedhimself)
He slowed(without those friendsto
keep going,
to
keep up), stopped dead and the head could not
go furtherwithout those friends.. .
And so it was I entered the "broken world
Hart Crane.Hart
16
LE FOUfor Charles
who plots,
then, the lines talking, taking, always the beat from the breath
(moving slowlythe breath
at first
whichI
is
slow
it is
mean, graces come slowly, that way.
So slowly (they are waving
we are movingaway fromwhichis
(the trees the usual (go by
slower than
this, is
(wegoodbye
are moving!
A SONGfor
Ann
I
had wanted a quiet testament and I had wanted, among othera song.
things,
That was
to
be
of a like monotony.
(A graceSimply. Very very quiet.thrush, thoughI
A murmur of some lost
have never seen one.
Which was youand
then. Sitting so, at peace, so very much
now
this
same
quiet.
A song.And of youperpetuitythe sign now, surely, of a grossis
(whichit is
not reluctant, or
if it is,
no longer important.
A song.Which onewithcare.sings,if
he sings
it,
18
THE
CRISIS
Let me say (in anger) that we have never had a towel
since the day
we were
married
where anyone couldthe fact.
find
it,
Notwithstanding thatsimple to live with, not my own judgement, but nomatter.
I
am not
There are otherto kissis
things:
you
not
to love you.
Or not so simply.Laughter releases rancor, the quality of mercystrained.is
not
FOR RAINER GERHARDT
Impossible, rightly, to define these conditions offriendship, the wandering be of use, somehowto
& inexhaustible wish to
be helpfulwish
when it isn't simple,
otherwise, convulsed, and leading nowhere I can go.
What one knows,simple, convulsed,
then, not
and
feeling
(this night) petulance of all conditions, not
wondered, not evenfelt.
I
have
felt
felt that if it
being
so,
I have were simpler, and it were a matter only of
nothing,
an incredible indifference(to us)it all
they might say
but not friends, the acquaintances, but you,Rainer.
And likely there is
petulance in us
kept apart.
20
THE RIDDLEWhat
it is,
the literal size
incorporates.
The questionis
a
mute question. Oneone wants
is
too lonely,
to stop there, at the
edge of
conception.
The womanthe
imperative,lost in stern
man
thought:
give the name
it
form
certainly,titles.
and
21
THE
RITES
(Hogpen, deciduous growth,
etc.
making neither much dentnor any feeling: the trees completelyor incompletely attached to ground
During which time all the time sounds of an and what are they talkingabout
anterior conversation
Cares mount.certainlyas
My ownBetween
much as anyone else's.
each and every row of seats put a table
and put onan ashtray
that
(Who don't know what I knowin
what proportion,
is
either off, too
much
or on.
Lookorif that's
it
up, check
too
much,
say, too
time-consuming or whatever other
neat adjective to attach to anydistraction
(for doing nothing at
all.
The rites are care,less
the natures
something,
of hell simple, the mark the trace of
knows what but
line, trace of
line
made by someone
Ultimate: no
man shall go unattended.
No man shall be an idiot for purely exterior reasons.22
THE RHYME
There
is
the sign of
the flowerto
borrow the theme.
But what or where
to recover
what is nottoo simply.
love
I
saw her and behind them
and behind her there wereflowers,
nothing.
THE INNOCENCE
Looking to the sea, it is a line of unbroken mountains.
It is It is
the sky.the ground. Thereit.
we live, onIt is
a mist
now
quiet.
tangent to another Here the leaves
come, thereis
the rock in evidence
or evidence.
What I comeis
to
do
partial, partially kept.
THE BALL GAME
The one damnstanding
upall
to
time (yth inning) someone get a hot
dog
spills
mustard
over me.
The conceptionthehit,
is
whacko!
Likewise out of the park
of our
own indifferent vulgarity,
not
mind you,
that one repents even the most visual
satisfaction.
Early in
life
the line
is
straight
made
straight
against the grain.
Take the
case of myself,
and why not
since these particulars
need
no further impetus,take
me at the age of
1
3
and for some reasonreason.
there,
no matter the particular
The one damnstanding
time (yth inning)spills
upall
to
a hot dog someone get
mustard
over me.
THE CARNIVALWhereas the man whothe gong disin allits
hits
proves
it,
simplicity
Evenmakes
so the attempt
for triumph, in another man.
Likewise in love
I
am not foolish or incompetent.
My method is not ahope
tenderness, butdefined.
26
AFTER LORCA(or
M.
Marti
The church
is
a business, and the rich
are the business
men.
When they pull on the bells, thepoor come piling in and when a poor man cross, and they rush through the ceremony.dies,
he has a wooden
rich man dies, they out the Sacrament drag and a golden Cross, and go doucement, doucement
But when a
to the cemetery.
And the poor love itand thinkits
crazy.
27
THE KIND OF ACT OFwho
Giving oneselfto take the
to the dentist or doctor
is
a good one,
completeis
possession of mind, there
no
giving.
The mindis
beside the act of any dispossessionlecherous.
when
there
There is no more giving in is no more sin.
28
THE DISHONEST MAILMEN
They are
taking
all
my letters, and they
put them into a
fire.
I see
the flames, etc.
But do not
care, etc.
They burnI
everything I have, or what have. I don't care, etc.
little
The poem supreme, addressed toemptinessthis is the
courage
necessary.
This
is
something
quite different.
29
THE CROWThe crowin the cage in the dining-room
hates me, because I will not feed him.
And I have left nothing behind in leavingbecauseI killed
him.
Andthere
becauseis
I hitI
him overat.
the head with a stick
nothingis
laugh
the hatred of a repentance knowing there is nothing he wants.
Sickness
THE IMMORAL PROPOSITION
If
you never do anything
for
anyone
else
you
are spared the of tragedy
human
relation-
ships.
Ifis
quietly
and like another time
there
the
passage of an unexpected thing:
to look at it is
more
than
it
was.
God knowsis
nothingall
competent nothing there is. The unsure
is
egoist
is
not
good
for himself.
FORW.CW.Thepleasure of the wit sustains a vague aroma
The fox-glove (unseen)wild flower
the
To
the hands
come
many
In time of trouble things.
a wild exultation.
APPLE UPPFLE
Vanity (like a belly dancer's romance): justthe hope.
The unafraid & naked
wish, helpless. Pushed against a
huge
& unending door
.
.
.
And while the mindalittle
more tenuous, more.
careful of
it,
crabwise, gives in
.
.
To the pleasure of a meal in
silence.
33
THE OPERATIONBy SaturdayI said
you would be better on Sunday.a part of a reconciliation.
The
insistence
was
Your eyes bulged, the grey on you, you were hideous. light hung
My involvement is just an oldhabitual relationship.
Cruel, cruel to describe what there is no reason to describe.
34
CHANSON
Oh,
le
petit rondelay!
Gently, gently.It is that I
grow older.
As whengaily,
for a larkhoists
one
up a window
shut
many years.moistlady's eye grow madame's in-
Does theer, is it
clination,
etc.
Oh,
le
petit rondelay!
Gently, gently.It is that I
grow older.
DON'T SIGN ANYTHING
Riding the horse as was my wont, there was a bunch of cows in a field.
The horsechased
them.
I likewise,
an uneasy
accompanist.
To wit,if
you
lie
the Chinese proverb goes: in a field
and fallyouwill
asleep,
be found in a
field
asleep.
THE CONSPIRACYYou send me your poems,111
send you mine.
Things tend to awaken even through random communication.Let us suddenlyproclaim spring.at the others,all
And jeer
the others.
I willif
send a picture too you will send me one of you.
37
I
KNOW A MANAsI
sd to
myamJohn,I
friend, because I
always talking,
sd,
which was not hissur-
name, the darknessroundsus,
what
we do against it, or else, shall we &can
why not, buy a goddamn big car,drive,
he
sd, for
Christ's sake,
look
out where yr going.
THE ENDWhenI
I know what people think of me am plunged into my loneliness. The grey
hat bought earlier sickens.I
have no purpose no longer distinguishable.
A feeling like being chokedenters
my throat.
39
THE DEATH OF VENUSdreamt her sensual proportions
I
had suffered sea-change,
was a porpoise, a sea-beast rising lucid from the mist.that she
The sound of waves killedbut there were gesturesof
speech
my own, it was to call her closer,andfilled
of hers, she snorted
her lungs with water,
then sank, to the bottom,
and looking down,there I
clear
it
was, like crystal,
saw
her.
40
THE LOVER
What should the young man say, because he is buyingModess? Should he
blush or not.
Or
turn coyly, his head, to
one
side, as if in
the exactitude of his emotion he
were not offended? Wereproud?a
Of what? To buylike that.
thing
A COUNTERPOINT
Letof
be my own fool own making, the sum of it my
me
is
equivocal.
One says of the drunken farmer:leave
him lay
off
it.
And
this is
the explanation.
42
WAIT FOR ME
*
.
.
give a
man
his
I said to her,
manliness: provide
what you want Icreature comfort
want onlyfor
him andso.
herself:
more
You
preserve essential
think marriage
is
hypocrisies
everything?
in short,
make a
Oh well,home for herself.I said.
43
THE BUSINESS
To be in love is like going outside to see
what kind of day
it is.
Do not
mistake me. If you love
her
how prove sheit
loves also, except that
occurs, a remote chance
on
which you stakeBut barterfor
yourself?
the Indian was a
means
of sustenance.
There are
records.
44
THE DISAPPOINTMENTHad you the eyes of a goat,they would be almond, half-green, halfyellow, an
almond
shapeless as
to
them.
Were youbrush
you
are, cat-like, a
head, sad, sad, un-
goatlike.
45
THE WARNING
For lovesplit
I
would
open your head and put
a candle in
behind the eyes.
Loveif
is
dead in us
we forget the virtues of an amuletand quicksurprise.
A FORM OF ADAPTATION
My enemies came to get me,among thema beautiful
woman.
And
god, I thought, this will be the end of me,I
because
have no
resistance.
Taking
their part against
me even,
flattered that theyI lay
were concerned,
down
before
them and looked upmight help.
soulfully,
thinking perhaps that
And she bent over me to look at me then,being a woman.
They
And
I
are wise to send their strongest kissed her.
first, I
thought.
And they watched her and both of us carefully,not atall to
be
tricked.
But how accountI trustedit.
for love, even
if
you look
for it?
47
SONG
Were I myself more blithe,more the gay cavalier, I would sit on a chair
and blow bubbles
into the
air.
I
would
tear to
upme,
all
the checks
made out
not giving a good goddamn what the hell happened.I would marry a very rich woman who had no use for stoves,
and send my present wifeall
her old clothes.
And see my present childrenon Mondays and Thursdays and give them chocolateto
be nicer
to
me.
If
being the wordit
as
was reported
desperate perhaps, and even foolish,
but god knows useful.
NAUGHTY BOYWhen he brings home a whale,she laughs and says, that's not for real
And if he won
the Irish sweepstakes, she would say, where were you last night?
Where are you now, for that matter? AmI
always (she says) to be looking
at
you? Shethought
says,it
if I
would
get any
better I
would shoot you, younut, you.
Then pats her hairand waitsJim's deep-fired,all-fat, real
into place,for
Uncle
gone
whale
steaks.
49
LIKE
THEY SAYUnderneath thesoft grass I sat, I
tree
on some
watched two happy woodpeckers be disturbed by
my presence. And
whynot.
not, I thought to
myself,
why
LA NOCHEIn the courtyard at midnight, atmidnight. The moon locked in itself, toais
man a
familiar thing.
THE WHIP
spent a night turning in bed, my love was a feather, a flat
I
sleeping thing.
She was
very white
and quiet, and above us onthe roof, there was another
woman I
also loved,
had
addressed myself to in
a
fit
she
returned.
ThatBut now
encompasseslonely,I
it.
I
was
yelled,
but what
is
that?
Ugh,
she said, beside me, she put
her hand on
my back, for which actI
think to say this
wrongly.
ALL THAT
IS
LOVELY IN
MENfor a
Nothing
dirty
man
but soap in his bathtub, agreasy hand, lover's nuts
perhaps.
Or else
something like sand with which to scour him
for all thatis
lovely in
women.
2
1956-1958
JUGGLER'Sfor
THOUGHTDavid
my
son,
Heads up
to the
sky
people are walking byin the land withtails
no heads
hanging
to trees
where truthreddened byfields
is
like
an apple
frost
and sun, and the green
go out and out under the sun.
55
A FORM OF
WOMENI
have come
farI
from whereto
enough was not before
have seen the thingsin at
looking
me
through the open door
and have walked tonightby myselfto see the
moonlightas trees
and
see
it
and shapes morebecauseI
fearful
feared
what
I
did not
knowto
but have wanted
know.
My face is my own, I thought.But you have seenIit
turn into a thousand years.
watched you
cry.
II
could not touch you.
wanted very much
to
touch you but could not.
If it is
darkthis is
whenwhen
have care forthe
given to you, its contentshines.
moon
My face is my own. My hands are my own. My mouth is my ownbutI
am not.
Moon, moon,
when you leave me aloneall
the darkness
is
an utter blackness,a pit of fear, a stench,
hands unreasonablenever to touch.
But I love you.
Do you love me. What to saywhen yousee rne.
57
THEY SAY
Up and downwhat fallsgoes slower and slower combing her hair.
She is the
lovely stranger
who
married the forest ranger,
the duck and the dog,
and never was seen
again.
THE FRIEND
What I saw in his headwas an inverted and thevision,
glass cracked
when I put my hand in.
My own head is roundwith hair for adornment, but the faceis
an ornament.
Your face
is
wide
with long hair, and eyesso
wide they growI
deep asIf the
watch.
world
could only be rounder,
your head, like mine, with your eyes for realI
like
lakes!
sleep in myself. a friend,
That man wassans canoe,
and
I
wanted
to
help him.
59
PLEASEfor
James Broughton
Oh god, let's go.Thisis
a
poem for Kenneth Patchen.
Everywhere they are shooting people.People people people people. This is a poem for Allen Ginsberg.I
wantis
to
be elsewhere, elsewhere.
This
a
poem about
a horse that got tired.
Poor. Old. Tired. Horse,II
want
go home. want you to go home.tois
This
ais
poem whichthe story.I
tells
the story,
whichI don't
know.
get
lost.still
If
only they would stand
and
let
me.
Are you happy, sad, not happy, please come. This is a poem for everyone.
60
THE THREE LADIES
I
dreamt.
I
saw threethat I
ladies in a tree,clearly
and the oneshowed her
saw mostme,
favors unto
and
I
saw up her leg above the knee!for love
But when the time
was come,
and
of readiness
upon my
had made myself, head and shouldersI
dropped the other two
like
an unquiet dew.
What wereI
these
two but the one?
saw
in their faces, I heard in their words,it
wonder of wonders!they came down
was the undoing
of
me
to see!
Sister,
they said to her
who upon my lapand we.
sat complacent, expectant:
he
is
dead in
his head,
have errands, have errands
.
.
Oh song of wistful night!whereit
Light shows
nobody knows, and two are one, and three, to me, and to lookstopsis
not to read the book.
Oh one, two, three! Oh one, two, three!Three oldladies sat in
a
tree.
61
OH NOIf
enough you will come to it and when you get therethey will give you a place tosit
you wander
far
for yourself only, in a nice chair, and all your friends will be there
with smiles on their faces
and they
will likewise all
have
places.
62
GOODBYE
She stood
at the
window. There was
a sound, a light. She stood at the window.
A face.
Was it that she was looking for, he thought. Was it that she was looking for. He said,turn fromit,
turn
from
it.
The
pain
isit.
not unpainful.
Turn fromof
The act of her anger,
the anger she felt then, not turning to him.
THE INTERVIEWLight eyes would have been more fortunate. They have cares like store windows. All the water was shut off, and winter settled in the house.
The
first
week they wrote
a
letter.
He wrote it.She thought about it. Peace was in the houseI
like a
broken
staircase.
was neat about
it,
she later wrote
to a relative in
Spokane.
She spoke in accents lowas she told
me.
A WICKER BASKET
Comes the time when it's laterand onto your table the headwaiter puts the bill, and very soon afterrings out the
sound of
lively laughter
Picking up change, hands like a walrus,
andand
a face like a barndoor's,asize,
head without any apparent nothing but two eyes
So
that'sI
you, man,as I can,
or me.I
make itI
pick up,
faster
go than they
know
Out
the door, the street like a night, any night, and no one in sight, but then, well, there she is,
old friend Liz
And she opensI step in back,
the door of her Cadillac,
and we're gone. She turns me on There are very huge stars, man, in the sky, and from somewhere very far off someone hands me aapple pie,
slice of
with a gob of white, white
ice
cream on top of
it,
and
I eat it
Slowly.
And while certainlyandit, I
at me, they are laughing
all
around
me is racket
of these cats not
making
make it
in
my wicker basket.
65
THE BED
She walks and
in beauty like a lake
eats her steak
with fork and knife
and proves a proper wife.
Her room and boardhe canofafford,
he has made friends
common
pains
and meets
his ends.
Oh god, decrysuch
commonindeed.
finery
as
puts the need
before the bed, makes true thelie
what
is
66
JUST FRIENDS
Out ofI
the table endlessly rocking,
sea-shells,
and
firm,
saw
a face
appear
which
called
me dear.half the battle
To be lovedI
is
thought.
To beis to
be better than
is
not.
Now when you are old what willYoudon't say,
you say?
she said.
That was on
a
Thursday.
Friday night I left and haven't been back since.
Everythingif
is
water
you look long enough.
THE WINDWhatever isto
become of me
becomes daily as the acquaintance with facts is made less the point, and firm feelings are reencountered.This morningIt isI
waiting for the biscuits
drank coffee and orange juice, which never came.
my own failingI
because
cannot make them.
Praise god in
women.
Give thanks to love in homes. Without them all men
would starve
to the bone.essentially mistaken.
Mother was helpful butIt isI
the second half of the 2oth century. screamed that endlessly,it
hearing
back
distorted.
Who comes?The light footsteps down the hallbetokenininall
all
her loveliness,
her grimness, in all her asking and staying silent, all mothers or potentials thereof.
There
is
no hymn yet writtenI feel
that could
provoke beyond the laughter an occasion for this song
But
as love is long-winded,
the movingdescribes
windcolors
of sound
moving and flight
its
68
AIR:
"CAT BIRD SINGING"
Cat bird singing makes music like sounds coiningat
night.
Theeyes.
trees,
goddamn them,
are
huge
They
watch, certainly, what else should they do? My lovea person of rare refinement,speaks,
is
and when she
there
is
another
air,
melodywith his
what Campion spoke
of
follow thy fair sunne unhappie shadow
Catbird, catbird.
lady hear me.
I
have no
othervoice left
THE HERO
Each voice which was askedspokeits
words, and heard
more than
that, the fair question, the onerous burden of the asking.
And so
the hero, the
hero! stepped that gracefully into his redemption, losing
or gaining life thereby.
Now we, now Iask also, and burdened,tied
down, returnforest also.
and seek the
Go forth, go forth,grandmother, the of that old form, and turnssaith thefire
away from the form.
And
the forestit,
is
dark,
mist hides
treesI
are dim, butto
turn
my
father in the dark.
A spark, that spark of hopewhich was burned out longthe tedious echoof the father imageago,
also wear, old
which only women bear, men, old cares, and turn, and again findthe disorder in the mind.
70
Night
is
dark like the mind,
my mind is dark like the night.light the light!
Old
foibles of the
right.
Into that
pit,
now pit ofupon your hands,
anywhere, the tears how can you standit,
I also turn.
1
wear the
face, I face
the right, the night, the way, I go along the pathinto the last
and only dark,
hearing hero! hero!a voice faint enough, a spark,
a glimmer grown of old, old fears.
dimmer through
years
THE WAYMy love's manners in bedare not to be discussed by me,asI
mine by her would not credit comment uponI ride
gracefully.
Yet
by the margin of
that lake in
the wood, the castle,
and the excitement of strongholds; and have a small boy's notion of doing good.
Oh well, I will say here,let
knowing each man, you find a good wife too, and love her as hard as you can.
THE TRAVELLER
Into the forest again whence all roads dependthis
to lead
way and that him back.
Upon his shouldershe places boulders,
upon
his eye
the high wide sky.
73
A MARRIAGE
The
first
retainer
he gave to her was a golden
wedding
ring.
The secondlate
at
night
he woke up, leaned over on an elbow, and kissed her.
The
third
and the
last
he died with
and gave up loving
and
lived with her.
74
SHE
WENT TO
STAYTrying to chop mother down is hunting deer inside Russia with phalangists for hat-pins.I
like
couldn't.
A FOLK SONGfor Phil
Hitch up honey market race allthe
for the
way
to the plaza!
If
she don't run you can push her like
hell. I
know.
75
BALLAD OF THE DESPAIRING HUSBAND
My wife and I lived all alone,contention was our only bone. I fought with her, she fought with me,
and things went onBut nowI live
right merrily.
with hardly a
here by myself thing on the shelf, and pass my days with little cheer since I have parted from my dear.
damn
Oh come home soon, I write to her.Go screw yourself,Iis
her answer.turd.
Now what is that, for Christian word?hope she feeds on dried goosestill I
love her, yes I do. I love her and the children too.
But
only think it fit that she should quickly come right back to me.I
Ah no, she says, and she is tough, and smacks me down with her rebuff. Ah no, she says, I will not comeafter the bloody things
youVe done.youtrue,
Oh wife, oh wifeI
I tell
never loved no one but you. I never will, it cannot be another woman is for me.
That may bebut
right, she will say then, as for me, there's other men.tell you I propose them firmly by the nose.
And I willto catch
And I will wear what dresses I choose! And I will dance, and what's to lose!I'm free of you, you little prick, and I'm the one can make it stick.
Was Was
this the
darling I did love?
this that
mercy from above
did open violets in the spring
and made
my own worn self to sing?
She was. I know. And she is still, and if I love her? then so I will.
And I will
tell
her,
and
tell
her right
.
.
.
Oh lovely lady, morning or evening or afternoon. Oh lovely lady, eating with or without a spoon. Oh most lovely lady, whether dressed or undressed or partly. Oh most lovely lady, getting up or going to bed or sitting only.Oh loveliest of ladies, than whom none is more fair, more Ohgracious, more loveliest of ladies, whether
beautiful
you are
just or unjust,
merciful, indifferent, or cruel.
Oh most loveliest of ladies, doing whatever, seeing whatever,being whatever.
Oh most loveliest of ladies, in rain, in shine, in any weather. Oh lady, grant me time, finish my rhyme. please, to
77
DAMON &
PYTHIAS
When he got into bed,he was dead
Oh god, god, god, he said.She watched him takeand kneel thereto look for theoff his shoes
change which had fallen
out of his pocket.
Old Mr. Jones
whom nobody loveswentto
market for
it,
and almost foundunder atable,
it
but by that time was unable.
And the other day
two men,
who had been knownwere saidto
as friends,
be living together again.
IF
YOU
you were going to get a pet what kind of animal would youIf
get.
A soft bodied dog, a henfeathers
and fur
to
begin
it
again.
When the sun goes down and it gets darkI
saw an animal
in a
park.
Bring it home, to give it to you. I have seen animals break in two.
You were hoping for somethingandloyal
soft
and clean and wondrously careful-
a form of otherwise vicious habit
can have long ears and be called a rabbit.
Dead. Died. Will
die.I
Want.asked you
Morning, midnight.if
you were going to get a pet what kind of animal would you
get.
79
THE TUNNEL
Tonight, nothing time isn't.
is
long
enough-
Wereit
there a
fire,
would burn now.
Were there a heaven,I
would have gone long
ago.
think that light is the final image.I
But timelove
reoccurs,
and an echo.
A time passeslove in the dark.
80
THE SAINTSHeaven won't have to do with There isn't room enough.its
multitudes.
A thought weVe all had perhaps,nowtaken beyond that consideration.I
Last night
saw:
several people
in a dream, in shapes of all of this faces and hands,
and thingsI
to say, too.
And IOneThe
love you, one said. love you too. Let'sthis.
get out of
said: I
have
to take a piss.
door to the pantry was dark, where the two crouched, his hand on her back, her hand on his back. I lookedatI
an evil, in the face. saw its place, in the universe, and laughed back
until
my mind cracked.
81
THE NAMES
When they came near,the one, two, three, four,all five
of us sat
in the brokeri seat.
Oh glad to see,oh glad to be, where companyis
so derivedsticks
from
and
stones,
bottles
and bones,
82
A GIFT OF GREAT VALUE
Oh that horse I see so highwhenthe world shrinks intoits
relationships,sees as well as
myI.
mother
She was born, but I bore with her. This horse was a mighty occasion!
Theofits
intensity of
its feet!
The height
immense body!
Now then in wonder at evening, atthe last small entrance of the night,
my mother calls it, and I call it my father.With angryrights,
face,
with no
with impetuosity and
sterile vision
and a great
wind we
ride.
MY LOVE
It falleth like a stick.
It lieth like air.It is
wonderment and bewilderment,
to test true.
It is
no thing, but of two,
equal: as theit
mind
turns to
it,
doubleth,as
one alone.
Wherefew
it is,
there
is
everywhere, separate,yetas
dew
to
night
is.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON
It is like a
monster cometable
to dinner,
and the dinnerthefire
is set,
in the fireplace,
good luck to good
humor
The monster you love is home again,and hebigtells
you the
stories of the
world,
cities,
small
men
and women.
Make room for the furry, woodenmonster.
eyed
He is my friend
whom you burn.Amen.
THE INVOICE
I
once wrote a
letter as follows:
dear Jim, I would like to borrow
200
dollars
from you
to see
me through,wrote another: dearest
I also
M/
please come. There is no one
here at all
I
got
word
today,
viz:
hey
how are you making it? sport, And, why don't you get with it.
86
SOMEWHERE
The galloping collectionare the house
of boards
which
I
afforded
one evening
to
walk into
just as the night
came down.
Darklit
inside, the candleits
of
own free will,theair.
the attic
groaned then, theled
stairs
me up into
From outside,a
itit
must have seemed
wonder
that
was
the inside he as
me saw
in the dark there.
NEW
YEAR'S
The end of the year wears its facedisguisesIt is
in the
moon
against the
one would otherwise put upon
it.
the mild temper of midnight that embarrasses us and oh! we turn away into reassuring daylight but backwards.
If it
were the forward motion one wantedtempers would not be resolved, can one keep the night outit
What
of
as or
when
it
was there?
Darling (she had gone) answer.
we speak
as
if
there never were an
We speak (to the back, to sleep, to heads). We are alone in thenew minute,hour, or year, or nowhere.
House. Your hand
is
too far
from me. Tree, speak. The moon
is
white in the branches, the night is white in the mind of it. Love, tell me the time. What time is it? The second, the moment
moving
in the
moon?
Of the
strangeness of bending backwards until the instant of mind in the moon's whitelight
mind
is
an
upon anlast
Endless black desert, the sand, in the night of the of the year.
moment
88
SONGGod give you pardon from gratitudeand other mild forms of servitude
and make peacewith whatis
for all of us
easy.
LADY BIRD
A lady asks meandI
would
tell
what is
it
she has found the burden
of.
To be happy now she cries, and allturn backward
things
and
impossible,
God knows
that
I
love her,
and would comfort her
but the inventionaparallel
is
sufferance.
Mine for hers,hers for mine.
90
FOR A FRIEND
Who remembers him also, he thinks(butto himself
and
as himself).
Himself alonein a world of
is dominant no one else.
ENTRE NOUSIf I can'tI
hope then
to hell
with
it.
don't
wanthe
to live like this?
Like
this,
said.
Where were you?of the bureau
She was around in backwhere he pushed her?Hell no, she justfell.
SING SONG
I
sing
the song of the sleeping wife,
who married to sleep, who would not sleep simply to get married; who can be up at dawn, yetnever cannot go to sleep if there reason not to go to sleep;is
good
who sleeps to sleep, who has no other purpose in mind, who wouldn't even hear you if you asked her.
92
ANDA pretty party for peopleto
become engaged in, she was
twentythree, he
wasall
a
hundred and twentyseven times
the times, over and over
and under and under she went
down
stairs,
glass, alabaster,
through doorways, an iron shovel
stood waiting
anddig
she lifted
it
to
back
and backfather
to
mother,
and
brother,
grandfather and grandmotherareall
They
dead now.
93
HEROES
Inis
all
those stories the hero
beyond himself into the next
be it those labors thing, of Hercules, or Aeneas going into death.I
thought the instant of the one humannessit
in Virgil's plan of
wasyet
thatto
it
was
of course
human enough
to die,est.
come
back, as
he
said,
hoc opus, hie labor
Thisis
That was the Cumaean Sibyl speaking. is Robert Creeley, and Virgildead
now two thousand years, yetall
Hercules
and the Aeneid, yet
that industrious wis-
dom lives inand thecan
the
way
the mountains
desert are waiting
for the heroes,still
and death
also
propose the old labors.
94
GOING TO BED
That dim shattering character of nerves which creates faces in the darkspeaks of the heaven and hell as a form of corporate existence.
Oh don't say it isn't so,think to understandif
the last time you looked you were still a man.It is a viscous
form of
self-
propulsion that lets the feet gripthefloor, as
the head
lifts to
the door,
lurches, ghostwise, out,
and
to
the
windowit
to fall
through,
yet closes
to let
the cat out too.
After that, silence, silence.
On
the floor the hands
find quiet, the
mouth goesto
lax.
Oh! Look forward
get
back.
Oh wisdom to find fault with what is after all a plan.
95
THE FLOWER
I
think I grow tensions
like flowers
in a
wood wheregoes*
nobody
Each wound is
perfect,
encloses itself in a tiny
imperceptible blossom,
makingPainis
pain.
a flower like that one,
like this one, like that one, like this one.
THE LETTER
I
to
did not expect you stay married toall
one man
your
life,
no matter you were
his wife.
I thought the pain was endless but the form existent,
as
it is
form,it.
and
as such I loved
loved you as well even as you might tell,I
giving evidenceas to
how much was
penitence.
97
THE PLACE
What is the form is the grothe accident tesquerie of the moon's light
on your face.
Oh love, an empty table!An empty bottle also.But notrick will
go
so far but not further.
The end of the year is a division,
a drunken derision
of composition's accident.
We both fellYou fell. In hell we willI fell.
tell
of
it.
Form's accidents,
we move.
back-
wards
to love
.
.
The movement ofsentencetells
the
me of you as it was the bottle we drank?No.It
was no
accident.
Agh, form is what happens? Form is an accompaniment.I to love,
you
to love:
syntactic accident.
It will all
come
true,
in a year.
The empty bottle, the empty tell where we were.
table,
THE SOUVENIR
of twisted trees, Passing into the wilderness below the goats and sheep look up at us,as
we climb
the hill for our picnic
years ago.
99
FOR THE
NEW
YEAR
From something inlooking
the trees
down
at
mesign
or else an inexact
of a remote
and artificial tenderness
a
woman who passes mewill not consider
and who
me
things
I
have
tried to take
with which to make somethinglike a
toy
for
my childrenbe quietly forgotten.
and a
story
to
Oh God, send me an omenthatI
may remember moresee to me,
often.
Keep me,let
me look.is
Being unsure, there
the fate
of doing nothing right.
100
THE DOORfor
Robert Duncan
It is
hard going
to the
door
cut so small in the wall wherethe vision
which echoes
loneliness
brings a scent of wild flowers in a wood.
What I understood, I understand.
My mind is sometime torment,sometimes good andfilled
with livelihood,
and
feels the
ground.
But
I
see the door,wall,
and knew the
and wanted the wood,
and would get there if I could with my feet and hands and mind.Lady, do not banish me for nature digressions. Myis
a quagmire of unresolved
confessions. Lady, I follow.
I
I left
walked away from myself, the room, I found the garden,
knew the woman we lay down. in it, togetherI
Dead night remembers.
In December
we change, not multiplied but dispersed,sneaked out of childhood,the ritual of dismemberment.
Mighty magicin her thereis
is
a mother,
another issue
101
of fixture, repeated form, the race renewal, the charge of the command.
The gardenIt is fixed in
echoes across the room.the wall like a mirror
that faces a
window behind you
and reflects the shadows.
May I go now?
Am I allowed to bow myself downin the ridiculous posture of renewal, of the insistence of which I am the virtue?
NothingInside
for You is untoward. You would also be tall,
more
tall,
more
beautiful.
Come toward me from the wall, I want to be with You.SoI
screamed to You,
who hears as the wind, and changesmultiply, invariably, changes in the mind.to the door, I ran
Running
down
as a clock runs
down. Walked backwards,near the wall.
stumbled, sat
down
hard on the
floor
Where were You. How absurd, how vicious.There
My
is nothing to do but get up. knees were iron, I rusted in worship, of You.
For that one sings, onewrites the spring poem, one goes on walking. has always moved to the next town The
Lady and you stumble on
after
Her.
IOZ
The door in
the wall leads to the gardensit
where in the sunlightof
the Graces in long Victorian dresses,
which
my grandmother had spoken.
History sings in their faces.
They are young,
they are obtainable,
and you follow after them also in the service of God and Truth.But the Ladyto theI will
is
indefinable,
she will be the door in the wall
garden in sunlight.
go on talking
forever.
I will
never get there.
Oh Lady, remember mewho in Your service grows oldernot wiser, no more than before.
How can I die alone.Where will I bewhat groansin this
then
who am now
alone,
so patheticallyI
room where
am alone?
I will I will
go to the garden. be a romantic. I will
sell
myself in hell,in heaven also I will be.
my mind I see the door, before me across the floor I see the sunlightIn
beckon to me, as the Lady's moves small beyond it.
skirt
THE HILLIt is
sometime since
I
have been
what it was had once turned me backwards, and made my head intoto
a cruel instrument.
It is
simple
to confess.
Then
done,
toto
walk away, walk away,
come again.
But that form, I must answer, dead in me, completely, and I wi 1 ! not allow itis
to reappear
Saith perversity, the willful,
magnanimous which is in melike a hill.
the
cruelty,
104
3
1959"
THE AWAKENINGfor Charles
Olson
He feels small as he awakens,but in the stream's sudden mirror,a pool of darkening water,sees his size with his
own two eyes.
The
trees are taller here,
fall off to
no field or clearing, and depend on the inswept air for the place in which he finds himself thusI
lost.
was going on
to tell
youit
when
the door bell rangI
was
another story as
know
previously had happened, had occurred.
That wasof the
a woman's impression wonders of the morning, the same whiter air now, and strong breezes
place,
move
the birds off in that
first
freshening.
O wisest of gods! Unnatural prerogativeswoulderr to concur,
would fall deafened
between the seen, the green green, and the ring of a far off telephone.
God is no bone of whitened contention. God is not air, nor hair, is nota conclusive concludingto
remote yearnings.
He movesmoveto
only as I move, you the awakening, across long rows, of beds, stumble breathlessly, on leg pins and cratch, at all as all men, because you must.
also
moving
107
KORE
AsI
I
was walking came upon
chance walkingthe same road upon.
As
I sat
downto
by chancelaterif
move
and
as I
might,
light
the
wood was,
and green, light and what I sawbeforeI
had not
seen.
It
was
a
lady
accompaniedby goat
men
leading her.
Her hair held
earth.
Her eyes were dark,
A double flutemade her move."Olove,
whereleading
are
you
me now?"
1
08
THE RAIN
All night the sound had
come back again, and again fallsthis
quiet, persistent rain.
What amthatinsisted
I to
myself
must be remembered,
uponit
so often? Is
that never the ease,
even the hardness,of rain fallingwill
have for
methis,
something other than
something not so insistent am I to be locked in thisfinal uneasiness.
Love,lie
you love me, next to me.if
Be for me,
like rain,
the getting outof the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semilust of intentional indifference.
Be wetwith a decent happiness.
109
THE WOMAN
I
called her across the room,
could see that what she stood on
held her up, and now she came as if she moved in time.
In time to what she moved,her hands, her hair, her eyes, all things which I took her to be there
by
did
come
along.
It
was not
right
or
wrongto
but signally despair, to speak to herasif
be about
her substance shouted.
no
MIDNIGHTWhen the rain stopscat drops out of the treeto
and thewalk
away,
whenthe
the rain stops, the others come home,stops,
when
when
phone
the drip of water, thepotential of a caller any Sunday afternoon.
in
THE KID
If it falls flat
I'm used to
it.
Yet
cannot growI can't
when
begin again.to secure
Nowise
what's left to others.forget.
They
But
I
remember.
How carelessly ease fallsaround me! All thehaveallit,
trees
the leaves
green!
I
wantit
to
want
grow in ground to come truesaid aboutif
too,
what they
you planted
the acorn the tree
would grow.
112
LADY IN BLACKThe mental picture which thelady in blackif
she be
coming, or going, offered by the occasionto the
church, behind the
black car, lately stepped out of, and
her dress
falls, letsall
eyes as
if
people werelookingsee
her
still
an attitudeperplexing.
THE PLAN
Daytime wonder atthe quieter possibilities of slumber,
deep
sleep,
in peace
some place the mindwill yet escape.
Or else,thethis
truth,
mindtime atlast
trapped:
no
voice,left.
no
way
The
hand
at last
can tighten.
Why livein the middle
of this
damned muddle?
Why notlesser
thing? find outbring.
what another will
Woman,
addressed,
speaks easily unless
she
is
depressed.
114
Children, wiser,
make
their
own
things unless
thrown under
the way, theit
way
yesterday, will be also
was
today
and tomorrow.
THE JOKE
There was
a jokelike
went on a walkover thethesehill,
and
there before
them
weary
travellers
saw
valleys
and farmstits
of muscles,
raised
high
in the sky of their vision
which bewildered
them.
They were
no ordinary men but those who come innocent, late and aloneto women and a home, and keep on and keep on walking.
talking
116
THE SONG
It still
makes sensethe song afterall.
to
know
My wiseness I wearin despair of something better.
I I
am all beggar, am all ears.
Soon everything will be sold and I can go back home
by myself again and try to be a man.
117
THE BIRD
What did you say to methatI
had not heard.
She
said she
saw
a small bird.
Where was it.In atree.
Ah, he
said, I
you spoke
to
thought me.
118
YELLOW
He wants to be an Indian,someoneor blackelse a
white man,
man, pacingsimply given.
this to a reason
What do
they put in the graves of
dissatisfied
men?
What for the women who denied them, changingtheir colors into
greens, reds, blues,
yellow.
Her hands were
yellow, her eyes were
yellow.
The
Indians want
her to be their queen because she is such alovely color.
119
THE CRACKS
Don't stepso lightly.
Break
your back, missed the step. Don't go
away mad, lady in the nightmare. Youare central,
even necessary.I will
attempt to describe you.
I will
be completely withoutall left.
face, a lost
chance, nothing at
'Well," he saidas
he was leaving,
"bloodtells."
But you remembered quickly other times, other faces,
and
I
slipped between the good
intentions, breathlessly.
What a goodwantsto.
boy am Will you,
I
who
won't you.
mother, come quickly, Why not
go quietly, be left with a memoryor an insinuation or
two
of cracks in a pavement.
120
JACK'S
BLUES
I'm going to
it, put an elephant in the pot. I'm going out and never come back.
roll up and smoke a monkey
What's better than
that.
Lying on your back, flat on your back with youreyes to the view.
Oh the view is blue, I saw thattoo, yesterday
and you,
red eyes and
blue,
funked.
I'm going to roll up a rug and smoke it, putthe car in the garage and I'm a sad old candle. gone, like
121
OUT OF SIGHTHe thinksalways thingswill be
simpler,
with face
of a
downmouthdown, then
so that therolls
the eye shuts
as ato
fist
hold patience,
patience,
in the locked mind.
122
A TOKEN
My ladyfair
with
soft
arms, what
can
I
say to
you
words, words
as if all
worlds were there.
THE MAN
He hie fie fingerspeak in simple soundfeels
much
better
lying down.
He toes is brokenall
he foot go
rotten
now.
He look
he hurt bad, seedangerall
around he
no see before
come down on him.
124
THE MEMORY
Like a river she was,
huge roily mass
of water
tree trunks carrying and divers drunks.
Like a
Priscilla,
a feminine Benjamin,
a whore gone right over the falls,
she was.
Did you know her. Did you love her, brother. Did wonder pour downon the whole goddamn town.
125
TO AND
To andback and forth,directionis
a third
or simple fourth of the intentionlikeit
goes and goes.
Nomore snowwinter?this
No more snow.Then what replacesall
the faces,
wasted, wasted.
126
A WISH
So muchto
rain
make
the
mud again,also.
trees
green
and flowers
The water whichran
up
the sun
and downit is
again, the same.
A man of suppleyielding
manner
might, too, discover
ways of water.
127
SONG
What Igrewin
took inweight.it
my handYou must
understand
was not obscene.
Night comes.
We sleep.
Thensayit.
if
you know what
Don't pretend.Guises are
what enemies wear. YouandI live
in a prayer.
Helpless. Helpless,
should
I
speak.
Would you. What do you
think of me.
No woman ever was,was wiserthan you.
None is
more
true.
But
fate, love, fate
scaresI
me.
What
took inin
my handweight.
grows
128
THE SIGN BOARD
The quieter
the people are
the slower the time passes
until theresitting
is
in the
a solitary man of silence. figure
Then scream at him,come here youidiotit's
going
to
go
off.
A face that is no facehut the features, of a face, pasted
on
a face until that face
is faceless,
answers by
a being nothing there
where there was
a
man.
129
NOT NOWcan see you,
I
hairy, extended, vulnerable,
but how did you get up there. Where were you going all alone,
whyto
didn't
you wait
for the others to
come home
go too, have gone with you.
they would
130
THE TIME
They walk in and fall
into
the large crack in the floor with the room upended on sideto
make
the floor a wall.
Upwardstheyfall
or
downwards now
into the crack,floorto,
having no
or ceiling to refer
what time comes
to,
the place it all goes into. All that was an instant agois
gone now.
SONG
Those rivers run fromto sea.
that land
The windmove,
finds trees to
then goes again.
And me, why meon any day might befavored with kind prosperityor sunk in wretched misery.I
cannot stop the weather
by putting together myself and anotherto
stop those rivers.
Or holdwiththe
the
windthe tree,
my hand from
the thing, love from her or me.
mind from
Be
natural, while alive.to that
Dead, we diealso,
and go anotherI
course,
hope.
And me, why meon any day might befavored with kind prosperity or sunk in wretched misery.
You
I
want back
of
mehere,
in the life
we haveofit.
waiting
to see
what becomes
Call, call loud,I
will hear you, or
if
not me, the wind willfor the sake of the tree.
132
THE RESCUEThe manto asits
in a timelessness
with the horse under him in time
movement of legs and hoovestimeless sand.
upon a
Distance comes in from the foreground time present in the picture as
he reads outward from
and comes from
that beginning.
A wind blows inand out and and runsall
about the
man
as the horse ranto
come
in time.
A house is burning in the sand. A man and horse are burning.The wind is burning.Theyare running to arrive.
'33
THE PARADOXLooking downlong hair,
at
her
we sawin
the positionher.
which we placed
Yet our
ownup down
a formula, the street
she walkedshe looked
on.
'34
THE END OF THE DAYOh who isso cosy with
despairall,
and
they will
not come,rejuvenated, to the last spectacleof the day. Look!
the sunsinking,it's
is
now
gone. Night,
good and sweetnight,
good
night, good, good
come. night, has
135
THE WOMEN
"What he holdsis
to
a crossthat
and by justis
much
his load increased/'
*
"Yet the eyes cannot die in a face
whereof the handsare nailed in place/'*"I
wish
I
might growa tree
tall like
to
be cut
downsuch beauty."
to bear
FOR FEAR
For fearto
I
want
make myself again
under the thumbof old love, old time
subservience
and
pain, bent into a nail that will
not come out.
Why, love, does itmake sucha difference
not to be heardin spite of self
or
what we may
feel,
one for thebut as a
other,
hammer
to drive again
bent nailinto old hurt?
'37
THE GIFTHe handsdownthe gift as from a greatheight,his
precious
understanding clothed in miraculousfortitude.
This
is
the present
of the ages, all
rewardsinitself.
But the ladyshe, disdainful, all
in white for
this occasion
criesis
out petulantly,that thatall, isall.
138
THE HOUSEfor Louis
Zukofsky
Mud putupon mud,lifted
to
make room,
housea cave,
andcolder night.
To sleepin, live in,
to
come
in
from heat,
all
form derived
from kind,built
with that in mind*
139
YOUNG WOMAN
Young woman, older woman, as soon as thewords begin, youleave, rightly.
How pace yourself behind,how follow when it is you also who leads, to befollowed,
and why
not.
Is there a
patiencebarely, hardly,
we learn,
a condition into whichare suspended?
we
Is there a
place for us,
do you know it well
enoughit
that without
thought
can be found?
I think,
and
therefore I am not, who was to have been,
as
you,
something
else.
140
THE POOL
My embarrassment at his nakedness,at the
pool's edge,
and
my wife, with his,was a freedom
standing, watchingthis
not given
me who am
more naked,less
containedflesh
by my own white and the abilityto take
quietlyto
what comes
me.
The
sense of myself
separate,
grew
a white mirrorin the quiet water
he breaks with
his
hands
and
feet, kicking,
pulls
up
to
landfeet
on the edge by theof these
women who must knowthat for each
man is a speechdescribes him,
makes
the day grow white
and
sure, a quietness of water
in the mind,lets
hang, descriptive
as a risk, for
somethingfind
which he cannot
a means or time.141
AIR:
'THE LOVE OF A
WOMAN"
The love of a womanis
the possibility
which
surrounds her as hairher head, as the love of her
followsher.
and describesifis
But what
they die,still
then there
the aura
left, left
sadly,
but
hovers in the
air, surely,
where
this
had taken place?of her, of
Thenit
sing,
whom
will
be
said,it
he
sang of her,
was the
song he made which made her happy, so she lived.
142
MIND'S HEART
Mind's heart, be that somein you.
it
must
truth lies locked
Or else, lies, all lies, and no man true enough to knowthe difference.
THE NAME
Be natural,wiseas
you can be,
my daughter,let
my nameflesh
be in youI
gave you
in the act of
loving your mother,all
your days her ways, the woman in you
brought from sensuality's measure,
no other,there
was no thought
of
it
but suchall
pleasure
women
must be inas you.
her,
But not wiser,
not more of nature
than her hair,the eyes she gives you.
There will not be another
woman such as youare.
Remember
your mother,
144
the
way you
the days of waiting.
Be natural,daughter, wiseasall
you can
be,
my daughters,men
be womenfor
when that time comes.Let the rhetoricstay with me your father. Let
me talk about it,saving you suchvicious self-
exposure, let youpass it on in you. I cannot be more than the
man
who watches.
THE FIRST TIME
We are given a chance,amongthe worst something leftotherwise, hopeful
circumstance.
As
I
spoke to you,
once,I
loved you
as simply as that.
Now to go back,I
cannot
but going on, will not forget the
first
time.
You likewisewith
me must beindifference.
testamentto
pain's
We are only carefulfor such a
memory, more
careful, I think,
than
we ever thought to be.
146
THE FIGURESThe stillnessof the wood,
the figures formed
by hands soto
still
they touched
it
be one
hand holding onehand, faces
without eyes,bodies ofstone, so
woodenstill
they will not
move
from that quietaction everagain.
Did the man
who made them finda like quiet? In the act of making
them
it
must have beenstill
so
he heard the woodwith his hands
and
felt it
moving
into
the forms
he has given
to
them,
one by singularone, so quiet, so still.
THE ROSEfor
Bobbie
Up and downshe walks,form, alistless
movement
quietly misled.
Now,to
speak to her.
"Did you wantgo,
then
why
don't you."
She went. There werethings she leftin theas a
roomit.
form of
He follows,
walking.
Where do they walk now? Do they talk nowwhere they arein that other place
grown monstrous,quiet quiet air as breath.
And all about a rosymarkdiscloses
her natureto
him, vague and unsure.here roses,
There
roses,
flowers, a pose of
nature, her
nature has disclosed to him.
Yet breathing, crouchedin the dark,
he is therealso, recovers,
to bring her
back
to herself, himself.
The room wavers,wavers.
And as if,asif
a cloud
had
broken at last
open
and all the rain from that, from that had fallen
on them,on them thereis
a
mark
of her nature, her flowers,
and his room, his nature, to come home to.
149
THE EYEMoonandclouds, will
we drifthigher than thatlookat,
we
moon's andmind'seye.
150
LOVE COMES QUIETLY
Love comesfinally,
quietly,
drops
about me, on me,in the old ways.
What did I knowthinking myselfable to go alone all the way.
AFTER MALLARM
Stone,like stillness,
around you
my
mind sits, it isa proper formforit,
like
stone, like
compressionfixed fast,
itself,
without a sound.
152
THE PEOPLEWistful,
they speak ofsatis-
faction, love
and
divers
otherthings. It
comforts,
it
surprises
them, theold
remembrances,like
hands
to
hold them
and warm. Sosafe
must it be, then, some god lookstruly
down
upon them.
THE WIFE
I
know two womenand the onetangible substance,flesh
is
and bone.
The other in my mindoccurs.
She keeps her
strict
proportion there.
But how should
I
propose with two such creaturesin
to live
my bed
or
how shall he who has a wifetwoto
yield
onedie.
and watch the other
154
THE SNOWThe broken snowshould leave the traces
of yesterday's walks, the paths and bring friends to our door
worn
in,
somewhere in the dark winter.Sometime in AprilI will
get at last
the flowers promised you long ago, to think of itwill help us through.
The night is a pleasure to us,I
think sleeping, and what
warmth
secures
me you bring,giving at last freely of yourself.
Myself was old, was confused, was wanting,to sing of an old song,through thelast
brought
now
echo of hurting, home.
'55
FIRE
Clear smoke,
a
fire
in the far off
haze of summer,
burning somewhere.
What isa lonely heart for if notfor itself alone.
Do the questionsanswer themselves,all
wonderto a
brought
reckoning?
When you are done,I
am done,it
then
seems that
one by one
weto
can leave
it all,
go on.
FOR FRIENDSHIP
For friendship
maketo
a chain that holds,to
be bound
others,
two by two,
a walk, a garland,
handed by handsthat cannot
move
unless they hold.
157
THE GESTURE
The gesture she makesto rise,all
her flesh
is
white,
and died.
Now morning, nownight,
and sun
shines as
moonlight.
Sun, for her
make dolight
with bright
moon andlove
and children
sleeping,
in her died
mind's keeping.
FOR LOVEfor
Bobbie
Yesterday
I
wanted
to
speak of it, that sense above the others to me
important becausethat I
all
know derivesit
from what
teaches me.is it
Today, whatis
that
finally so helpless,
different, despairs of its
own
statement, wants to
turn away, endlessly to turn away.If the
moon
did not
.
.
.
no,I
if
you did not
wouldn't either, but what would I notdo,
what prevention, what
thing so quickly stopped.
That is love yesterdayor tomorrow, not
now. Can
I
eatI
what you give me.have not earnedIit.
Must
think of everything
as earned.
Now love also
becomes a reward so remote from me I have made it with my mind.only
Here is tedium,despair,
a painful
159
sense of isolation
and
whimsical
if
pompous
self-regard.is
But that imageto
only of the mind's
vague structure, vague because it is my own.Love, what do I thinktosay.I
me
cannot say it
What have you become to ask,what haveI
made you into,
crossedsoft
companion, good company, with skirt, or legs
body under
the bones of the bed.
Nothing says anything but that which it wishes
would come
true, fears
what
else
might happen in
some other place, someother time not this one.
A voice in my place, anecho of that only in yours.Let
me stumble into
not the confession butthe obsession I begin with
now. For youalso (also)
some time beyond place, or place beyond time, no
mind left
to
say anything at
all,
that face gone, now.
Into theit all
company of love
returns*
160
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