james-schuyler-the-morning-of-the-poem-1.pdf

HE ORNNG OF HE OE

The Mrg f the Poem  fo  fo Dah Pk

July 8 or July 9, the eighth surely cetainly 1976 that I know Awakening in western New York blurred barely moing sopping dawn Globules face to my face, a beautiful fac not min: Baudelair's skul Force fate will and you being you: a p�nter you drink Your Ovaltine and climb to the city roof "to nd a view, and I being whover I am get out of bd holding my cock and go to piss  Then to the kitchen to mak coe and tost  with jam and s out The window two blu jays ripping something whit  while from my mother's Room the radio purls it plays all ight she leaves it on to hea  The midnight news then sleps and dozes until day which now it is Wakening today in green. mor gray why did  your lithe blondnss In Remsen handsomness mix in my mind with Baudelaie's skul? which Stands for strength and ercness the dedication of the aist? How asily I could b in love with you  who do not lik to b touched, And yet I do not want to be in love with you nor you with m Strange business th chinky Chinaman said and from th kitchn window T Mo of  Poem

he jas ae fatte than an jas I eVe saw ee and hann In a palo oo n fa-o helsea I'm lad thee s a Watecolo of me n lue shos, sttin sde a lack Brinnic And a eenlass-shaded student lamp and a lass of deep ed wne Ru wne the thoat of a hummnd hann on speedn Wns n ece lue delphnum depths I thnk Aout thos o lue jas, lke me, too chu, and audelaie's skull, hat sees n the tatteed mon the passn of he lost and ndent, the lost, the wa the da when I aose Seemed lost and tash-pckn fo a meatless mosel, a stnkn one, such as n ths een unloel llae one ned nee Seek o fea and ou descend to ou studo lean on o oof he ehalation of audelae's mae of teo whch s ot teo ut the asts ou) detemnaton to e ston o see thns as the ae too ece and et not too much n Weste ew Yok, wh audelae In helsea,  wh not Smle, ul da Wh dd audelae ande n Don't I loe Hene moe O Walt Whtnan, Walt o, the come to m death ed and one  one take m hand And sa, So lon, old man, and who was t  who n the af Montana told, told , In all seousness, that the tiumph of Ms S, futue Duchess of W, was that he sa she's a ccus n ed I lke to dwell on that, the caed lons And the whps, all-alancn seals, And now, 260

he jas ae fatte than an jas I eVe saw ee and hann In a palo oo n fa-o helsea I'm lad thee s a Watecolo of me n lue shos, sttin sde a lack Brinnic And a eenlass-shaded student lamp and a lass of deep ed wne Ru wne the thoat of a hummnd hann on speedn Wns n ece lue delphnum depths I thnk Aout thos o lue jas, lke me, too chu, and audelaie's skull, hat sees n the tatteed mon the passn of he lost and ndent, the lost, the wa the da when I aose Seemed lost and tash-pckn fo a meatless mosel, a stnkn one, such as n ths een unloel llae one ned nee Seek o fea and ou descend to ou studo lean on o oof he ehalation of audelae's mae of teo whch s ot teo ut the asts ou) detemnaton to e ston o see thns as the ae too ece and et not too much n Weste ew Yok, wh audelae In helsea,  wh not Smle, ul da Wh dd audelae ande n Don't I loe Hene moe O Walt Whtnan, Walt o, the come to m death ed and one  one take m hand And sa, So lon, old man, and who was t  who n the af Montana told, told , In all seousness, that the tiumph of Ms S, futue Duchess of W, was that he sa she's a ccus n ed I lke to dwell on that, the caed lons And the whps, all-alancn seals, And now, 260

 wthout a net    the odou Clown borng Enor and peudo-ymbolm of omethng meanng omethng  That doent mean a thng at a the mplcty of true drama, a traned and Modulated voce, a hand that re of telf '�L commdi commdi non r ni; M ur e nit pleaant to be

Goldon and meet Mr Tepolo n  The qure, or Longh, Guard, or am I mxng up my date omebody wa older  Than omebody and Goldon went o to France on another gray mong n Whch the  crowd too thckly on thee vllage lawn Chetnut Hll oad, But the blght cme and there are no chetnut;  the bght came, and there Are no elm only pruce nd maple, maple aplng prngng up n hedge, A knny weed, ad th weed, th wld yelo ower lower and arger than A buttercup, not lacquer yellow, more the yellow of a marh margold, mea Lke t, though not o large, not nearly o large, prnkled n the weedy Wldower lawn, for God ake, hat  your name Wll you have the watermelon And the ced coee, dear Comrade, leave me read my T" She et  The dhe out ut o, a though to pleae me and to pleae her, a rght Way to do thng and that  w he doe them The watermelon  freh And good and behnd th grunt of word I ee  you, Baudelare mak mak your your gn, Leg apart, addreed to your eael, queezng out the tube of ol Whoe name you know what  that green you ue o much of, that eem to Devour telf Nor can I qute forget what omeone ad I got her number: T Mo of  Pe

Why dd yu te hm hmsexuaty s a neuss?'  I sad, She sad She ddnt say t, but she dd Had t acheve wth s much nfmatn vaabe, s ttle t be beeved Last Juy  was an nfe, tempests f Ran, then seaed gass, ths Juy vecast  wth httsh httsh aftens aftens I Begudge that fa- sand n Penbsct Bay, mssy waks and wn Fwe Ce, cy swms n eay mng  pebbe beaches, the sme f junpe Whee my dead best fend w aways wak besde me, stde ahead f me When I wak wth yu, a I see s the hees f yu sneakes wee Yu bued n yu sneakes Of cuse nt thugh n a tende jke yu wee  nsegay tssed n the cn but ths s nt  yu pem, yu pem I may Neve wte, t much, thugh t s thee and needs nly t be wtten dwn nd ne day w and f t snt t desnt matte the tuth, the absute Of feeng, f knwg what yu knw, that s the pem, ke he huse f sae bued  a uxuance f vewn fundatn pantng css the steet upn ths h (taus, ctneaste), the dct has me Patents n Bua he mved thee Id athe stay hee and stave, wel, St f stave yesteday I tpped n a scatte ug and sam  ful ength, he wnd kncked ut f me Sha I ca a dct? Pease dnt tak e yu hut? Can I hep yu? Shut the fuck up I thught I'd smashed My kneecapyu knw, ke when yu ealy  wham yu funny funn y bne, ny Me sbut I gt up and fet ts nthng 262

brkenenerness an Hbbe wn hs eveasn h  san Be's an buh Ebe neesses sma y ans f nenrae jue emn me rane as puy bas f brea muker's raspberry jam ame bu n he  he Irsh kn (trave ne n New Yrk Cy yu ams ann buy a bw Of amea I knw I've re why bher   wu y ase ke pase An hbbe hme suyn he r-sae huse hen n say eaves he way he brwnsne fan f yur huse s mn  n an akes here's A  wr fr ha skness f he sne bu I an' remember  (yu'  I n ha fasnan bk Brk  Browo: ustratve phaph) An n Juy yu ake a pure n prress u  yur sree n snw Ar nners appe wth snw an n he sane he prbem An e bun srah m Babyn a fren sa f yu Wh pepe He's awfuy  meann I surmse kn nserae Oh I sa When he hs  he an pu hs f wn I'm very a ur fren a  hear h" N ha he r I mean  yu have a an Of uhness jus we me passes an smemes yu mus say N Or Dn' rea n me bu n' hane I ke yu as yu are auhn  u n aapnak he summer nehbrs sen he ma  pke thruh Prve an say here's  muh nse we were sunne mpans bu uhn? We  n bu f urse 's n que he same uner Th Moi of h Pom

An almost autumn sky a swimming pool awash  with cinnamon and gentian (The sky's the swmming pool that is) why is each day dawning so like? Overcst Or gray choose one and hen there was the just beforemoing elecric storm Night bere last two killed by bolt in a Batavia park my room lighting up Bright enough to read by Fear no more the heat of the sun nor he allDreaded thunderstone nny lightning doesn't scare me any more it thrils o long as I'm indoors in bed by preference  wih pillows und which to tuck My head against the louder claps Im very brave  Then a shovelful of earh Is thrown into the open grave and rattles on the con Oh goodbye goodbye I want to go away into that blue or dark or cerain or uncertain land: why Cant we know that it is here and here we'll meet and grow in friendship As we have here? You know that Austrian operetta dont you The L of ?  That is not what I mean Im often happiest  walking crosstown on a bright Ad icy day when up above mre's-tails sprkle and I stop to inspect the jk In junkshop windows and pass on feasting my eyes on what to me is beefy Handsomeness sexiness I dont want it really just to recollect or think My that's nice warm esh on a cold ·cold day today July coun edge  There's lmost a chill and the knee I fell on throbs more than Yesterday What a drag Michael Lally is a e poet and looks straight Into your eyes I know someone else who looks deep into your eyes and under  The curly hair the lies are manufactured Mostly 264

i delihs me like A ace he need o damaie o make ou Oh  was beauiul oh he ms Famous men all ell o me and slipped i up my cooe ve seen em a!  believe you dea Moe kinds o conies han spuce ow On his hill  wish  knew hei names  have a iend a boanis Wh could ell hem  me one by one Fank lves in London Teace and his s  he Londn Teace soy Thees somehn called he Pison ne When someone childen mosly oes say munchin in he woods and es sick _The dcos se he phne wies ashin  hspials hoiculual Gadens inomed New Yok  was 3 am my iend was asleep  London Teace The phone O in iinia a youn man had quaeled Wih his amily so he wen ou in he yad and aheed caso beans  They have a had shell and i you swallw hem like ha hey pass Hamlessly huh He cushed hem s Eih is a lehal dose He Picked en A youn man in iinia Wha happened  said induce iin m sue i was  lae Did he die? " don know   Ted o check back bu  couldn make conac And a ha caso Oil hey used o pou dwn me when  was a kid! Piy he youn iiian And sill is chill and vecas and in he aeon  we wen nex do  T ea a house d lived nex do  o oy yeas and neve been inside O no nce bee Ms B, he dead he ome wne wasn much  25

T Monn ohe Poem

Eneraining high-school boys. She died mad her  little hands clenched in Monkey sts and wouldn't eat her od Her husband  the arborist he's Gone too and handsome Larry crushed by a car against the back wall of a garage; Die die die and only pray the pain won't be more  than you can bear But What you must bear �you will I've known a  murderer(or two): or were They only bragging? Not everyone is quite so nice as my gentle Grandma Ella Sleeping away o there in Albert Lea Minnesota  where even the lake Is named Lake Alber Lea: who was he? A surveyor it seems to me: you can See he lake in this snapshot of my mother kneeling  on the lawn using Her turned-over hat to hold a big bunch of seet William: stop stirring The rice and come ith me to Maine and we'l settle  once for all which Is woundwort and which Jilloverheground but  you're painting or sketching In big charcoal strokes what will become a painting I'm posing seated By the tall window and the Ming ree and look  out across the Chelsea street And up to where a handsome muscular man in just a towel leans out into The snow (it isn't always uly you know) to see  what's going on my heart Goes pitapat but you you won't even down  your brsh and take a peek I call that dedication painting stirring rice scooting o To see the great Arletty  Garance: busy busy:  happy happy? Sometimes I think so surely hope so perhaps what I mean is happier happier 2

Plnged in work, soring o yor head: Bonjo d  am lile Macel Pros" I ake he sbway, hen he cross own bs, he small Rembrand On he wall," has raher grand, yo know, however small, and o he collecion Now is added one by yo and ha oo is pleasing and no ngand Jly Days pass, he bshes slide and pll he pain  o yor win_ dow   Do he roses bloom I hope so: how I love roses! Bnches of roses on The dining able, Georg Arends, big and silver pink wih sharply Ben-back pels so he peals make a poin. Or  aiegaa di Boloa, sreaked and eaked in raspberies and cream, A  few gahered ino an amehys wineglass nohing like i and I Love hem, no over ye early in ly, his cold Jly, he grass for once Is no overmown, b o he mower is se oo  close, i fsraes Me. Typing in my ndershors, m cold abroad, England, France, Denmark, Germany (oh yes, and Ialy), heyve had a for-week hea wave and A drogh The pasres for he cows are all  brn o, only he grapes In France are happy, wha a bonanza here will  be, wine, rch and gapy, No rea, las, for hose who don imbibe: rich as hose Poire robes And dresses I wen o see in he cellar of he Fshion Ins A brown ha isn prple, gamboge, celadon lined  wih ade, fa fr cs, Trbans sck wh black aigees, lxry an  w: ell me, yo w know, Wha is ha bird big as a dck has no a  dck on he grass wih a black 27

T Mo o Poem

Bib and dark tan stripes is it a kind of dove or pigeon? What would I gain By knowing? Like West 20th Street, West 22nd Sreet a white high rise at Number 360 'here the _Inteational Supermarket nestles? And the Seminary Enclosing a court of grass and trees dark green-smelling cut-out shapes on The evening we took our stroll there. Nearby the sadomasochistic bars With men in nails and boots and leather and the heavier sort of denim, Clanking keys, the rsky docks: youd be well advised to keep Away from a lot of it of course is just r show (children playng Dress-ups) but some of it is more, how you say, for real I saw a mans Back where someone had played ticktack-toe with a knife. His w has Left him "Have some speed makes you feel real sexy get away om me you Poet with no talent only a gft to destroy when our best poet was invited To review one of your little oerings I said, "Wont it be lke Reviewing your reection in an oil slick? So many lousy poets So few good ones Whats the problem? No innate love of Words no sense of How the thing said Is in the words, how The words are themselves The thing said: love, Mistake promise auto Crackup, color petal, The color in the petal Is merely lght And thats refraction 2

A wod has he poem A blackish-ed nasuium. Roses shed on A kichen oo, a Cool and scened bed To loll and oll on I wish I had a ose O buey aoo: Bu whee Hee on My  o my inne Thigh small, whee Only he happy fw Migh see i? Ill Nee foge ha Moing mn, naked o The wais a pize Figh buckle on his Bel (Panama) and Flying high on each Pecoal a bluebid On an sky skin I Waned o ea him up No such luck Eas 28h See 1950. How he oses pass. I wish I wee posing on Wes 22nd See, seaed by a window and he plns, While you bush makes whols in you painy palee and I wach   see and kids skim on skaeboads: is  summe, is July, O else is wine, Decembe Januay Febuay and he kids ae gloed and Bundled up and is snowbll-ghng ime: Gonna ub you face in i! and Does and one beaks loose and uns cying home In he highes window of A house acoss he see a Geman shephed ess his paws on he sill and Hangs his head ou gazing down gazing down, gazing down nd aking in he scene: 29

T Mo ohe Poem

Ths ng Crsms plns brng o mnd Jol Pons: mus rd up on Hm: nd n pmbr  sn wnr,  s summr, s July)  s your Nw rop o work  lk h r you syng  o h su? Rmmbr wh Th door sd: I m: rmmbrng nd syng o mosly s no o hrd ndd: dd you know  sd  o Anbus n b o mk You mon No h I nd muh hlp n h dprmn hs dys: unny, I rmmbr wlkng undr h plms on lbry n 19 wh  soldr I hd us pkd up nd n my slor su som hng sony s h Wshngon Monumn I wnd o hd rom h or omng owrd m: I  Guss I ws rd hd s , g h pur o wh ws bou o nd n  d hpn, nd snd m bk o bs. Ky Ws h buul wh houss Wh h louvrd upsrs, downsrs porhs, h vy oks dnsly hung Wh pnsh moss, h ll blu-blks wh huur nd dsdn, byond Th hn n, n hr ys nd rrg y ou o Jungl Town You B I wll: h brrud nd h nglsh, srs lk h Koh-noor And  ull moon rng bk h sr-nrsd s,  -  Envlopng moon I wn o s gn sng blk vlv shdows o Th plms nd brod bnn lvs Bu h son o  bh, h soldr: H ws rd. I ws muh oo young n hos dys r h zz nd wlkd Awy nd l hm o brng hmsl o ny wy h hos, by s, I suppos. ng ypng n my undrshors on hs hlly 20

ggy moing wile e rain Comes and goes Id like o live in T-sir and undersors Bare ee my Danis silver can a gi rom e one wo maered mos one as las yeas roses (Souvenr de la �almaison a Ill never agan Fall asleep wi my ead on is ces or soulder a kind o bugs me and Picures linger clearly ouside e Hoel Celsea e sood across  Te sree in weed a snappy dresser ee apar ead urned In an Iris prole olding n nglis aac case looking or A cab o Madison Avenue lae as usual lookng rg ou o a bandbox s usual. I won make a caalogue o all e · imes we were ogeer I Remember us one more slim and muscular you come ou o e sower Wrap a owel around your wais and lean on e wasbasn wi one Hand en squring oxzema saving oam o smer on your Sarpboned ace and save. Wilkinson Inecor  Green eyes in e Medicine-ces mirror. ou sad m sorry everyng us go oo Fucked up Tank ou or e book Tas wa I ge. Was i wor i On e ole I ink i was. Toooo oosie goodbye Te low nd seamless cloud is over us e lere is o i  Moing sky again day aer day bu oday is breakroug day e sun Bus roug en goes away en reus more brigly a breezy coolness A e window and a my back sirs e Peperomia e grass ere and acrss 27

T Mo o Poe

The seet (HOUSE FOR SLE almost glares a law mower makes ts heay hum Adacg ad retreatg  a dace a reel sweet Jesus ts my ephew Mke mowg hs anys law Mke come  ad hae a Coke " Wll Ucle Jm soo as Im doe he wears a Ace adage o a elow where He cracked t caoeg at scout camp last week. e lkes to Sk hekes to wrestle he has a tespeed ke he lkes to shoot small  Gne  the elds ad wood ehd ther house o the other sde o tow Where you get the est ews o the susets olet laced wth orage ad Whte rtters kmoo colors oh I saw those ays aga at daw Tearg at somethg whte ad the somethg whte was a whte petua the ays Are real workers at ther o ad he petua row s shredded almost All away tall ad setel aoe whats let o them a dese row o lles Log  ud soo to loom wth ther oxy adolescet grl smell repellet Yet sexy ad crotchcallg audelare Id lke to share a ppe with You (we could oth wear gloes or ear o the tch ad I would e a eteeth Cetury dady dud smellg strogly o alla ea dd you kow that Valla s a orchd? Ad so are you my cute reekg o poppers I the parlor car Southampto oud you must hae had qute a ght o t At the saua tell me what you dd you dd? Oh wow Jmmy you sad dot tell Ayoe you hae syphls O course Im gog to tell X I hae o secrets From hm; ayway Ie alread told Y ad Z, they  272

didn't take it big and Laughed when I said they should have blood tests." I told   in a skylit room and he was, to my surprse, cross, unsympathetic, in fact Disgusted: it was all out of his range, the range of Things that happen to foks you know You must be· more careful About catching syphilis, When you had your accident I didn't say be Mor careful of geting hit by trains," and If I'm to have any sex At all to do so I must run a risk (back in the Turkish-bath days) no One stayed mad, I got well, and when I went to my doctor for my last Injection I walked in on his wake Wihin a week his aide had killed Himself, his wife had bued to deah in her living room, all on morphine nd my doctor had cared, had tred to care r them all, others too In the cool insistent sun of ts changed day Scotland has gone away, weste New York is, it seems back to staybeneath the norh window I see out of when I Look left, large leaves of Solomon'sseal make light and shadows on themselves Moved by air, the air is ke the grayhared strding slimwaisted Man who went hrough the automatic doors yesterday afteoon at the store ahead Of e I wanted to tap s shoulder nd say, Excuse e, I'm sure that we have Met were you in the class of 41 ?" Instead I grabbed a cart, went wheelng up and down the aisles trying to get a front view of him and see how he was Hung and what his ce was like. But when I reached my goal e was wearng (I surmise Jockey shors (I curse the inventor of

273

The Mo o Pom

Jockey hort) and h ce Wa eathered lke oeone ho play gol a lot, not handoe bt a knd  Face I lke he a ellng and qeezng honeyde I'll be yor honeyde Yor Peran elon) hen ddenly he raed h head and paed Me, a on a tray, a plan and qetonng ghtorard hotle look I ropped a green bel pepper 1¢) n the cart and >ent heeng on What a I orgettng?" hen I a yong I ddn't go or gy y age, I oght Ot en h age tyve?) abot the age I  no bt no en y age are not Intereted n e, they eek ot beate, bleeyed, blond and tanned, or n other Coloraton, the clt o yoth, I'd ke to kck the : there' no deocracy Te to retre" hen I a a broad-beaed lady alo ron and gve e a erent knd o look I kno yor ace . . . aren't yo   ." yo're Rght, dear, yo at n ront o e n enor Engh or a t chetry Or French or tdy hall? I grab a ton o lk and head or the expre check Ot ane, t hovng the nanted bel pper n aong oe og ood The an had vanhed What a great love or ght have been, dong It on the gol coe at 2 a he a clearly arred, all the good one Are) At the hrdare tore I boght an onon chopper, gla and h orange Platc, and an oldahoned oetrap, pdated th a cented, lated Pece o ooden cheee. I hate oetrap akng n the nght to hear The thrahng crahng tggle on the ktchen oor, the hdeo trapped Screa o pan and I' the one ho  have

274

o deal wi i drowing? an Elepan gun Besides was wong wi mie  few mouse rds re soon swep up. Now ras ras are anoter sory Tis day I wan o Send i o you e sound of sirring air sof sunlig quivering rees Ta sake eir needles and leaves lie gers improvising on a keyboard Sriabin in is sofes mood and e wind rises and i  goes Delius Te sky pale and esly wased e blue aked o ere and ere and Sowg wie a and skimpy louds auning a brig green a sof blue day. Im sorry e fl moon is pas sill ere are sadows on e grass Fi o lie in; sudy te leaves or blades and le e surrying Blak ans taverse your , your and e dog nex door go in e tras gain a blak and usky ummy llow im I an ge mad a. Te days Go by soon I will go bak bak o Celsea my room a faes sou nd e ailanus ree wound wi ivy my reords saks and saks of em Spors Double Quarte Ida Cox and si in your parlor on te suisy airs On Wes 22nd Sree e Faur Seond Piano Quarte mirrors and piures On e walls nex weekend I ear youre going To Sagaponak r a double Birtday pary and af of i is you 37 mees 49 many appy reurns o You and You and years and years o ome oday is a year a mong is Moing was a year I go up a six sxiry on e grass ere lay one Sreak of moing lig e days and eir dieren igts wen I Was a ild in Wasingon ey ook me o e

275

The Mo o Poem

heater t see Edward Everet Hrtn n Spigtime f He (n whch that master f the dube Take tured fr years catch hm wth Heen Brderck and red and Gnger And Erc Bre n Tp Hat) and when the curtan went up n the secnd Act m breath caught t was the ght Id seen hat ght befre n Chevy
276

Book on the parlor table and i  was Linbergh's W how can I know that? I couldnt read: someone told e no doubt and no doubt it was Virginia Gold, she was a schoolteacher, Im prety sure. I dont remember much about Her except her bluebe muns and later she and my moher had A terrible quarrel on he telephone�the harsh and hateful voices made me Sick-and never met again Mr Gold drove us in a Model T or Touring car to catch a tran and in the Union Station my father, Mark, was waiting For us heavy, jolly, wellread man, youve been gone a long timeMore than thrty years-and time I suppose has swept all the Golds Under the carpet too But I forgot one of the best days at the n: The  women put their bonnets on and I went  with them up a hot dusty road To elds with rock outcrops (watch out for snakes) and gathered poke Weed Fried ham and pokeweed, and, in New Bruswick, a side order of Fiddlehead fes. Europe bores me it's too late: I mean Im too late Ive been here: no, it isn't that: I love architecture more than anyhing, Beini and Palladio and La1rana, a certain church in Venice, Mauro Coducci, Buonarroti's windows on the Farnese Palace Architecture? What about Donatello and della Quercia, Canova and Verroccho, the Pisani Music and dancing, acting: the Grand Canal in autumn after a week of rain: The water pours om mountains and tus mlky green, the toursts And the vapid rch leave and you are left with 2

T Mon o Poem

t

innie iches, The sian sone wih he silvepin cas o i of Geog ends ha fe a ainsom enames isef no has he ics (san one and bcs conased) ha become peals of oses, blossoming one Blac gondolas glide by he sueoed gondolies bending and Leaning on hei poles, weang een velve  slippes On Diaghilevs Tomb a ench coun lef his caling cad: moe suiable Than wiheng owes I lef only a glance and a hough BuEuope-spi, wised, shivengleaved olive ees Gapevines sng high in swags beween popla ees-Euope isn Home The oling mland of ew Yo, o bee sill Maine and is coas and Bays and islands, ew Bunswic, ova coia,  whie clapboad Houses wih ed geaniums inside spaling  windows, eaing lobse, geedly, emon wih a ew Yea g of hellish cold and deep, glieing, bndng now ie ce down in i and die: please don die, ge up ad go inside Whee he logs snap and cacle and smoe and gve o hei Hea and eshwaning smell he beauful humoous whie whippe o longe es, legs in he a, on he geen velve Vicoian couch unde Ms ppleyads paining on velve of an pegne  ful of fui can one, Jus one, moal peson o animal be immoal, lve oeve? o shiveling lie Tihonus, no in an impobable CloudCucoo 278

Land youd ke  but can't qute beleve n ageless, mmortal, speedy Here n Vermont, chasng rabbts, havng a wonderful roll n the horse sht �um! Good!" Whppoorwll! Wt have you done (Hs Masters Voce), the Graceful tal curling down and n between hs legs can a  curl down Shamecedly Hs could, and he could strew a house wth trash, leave An unnvtng mess on stairs Surprse! Surprse! or the nght I ce n And found between me and my bed the contents of a three-pound box Of the chocest candy a cheval-deise of chocolates and, Most beautful of all, on a long long lawn running, racng as whppets Are bred to do and leapng straght nto Kenwards arms, who Casually closed them qute an act! (hat moment n Seee when the dancer soars across the stage, tus, legs n extenson, ull n the male dancers face and he clasps her By the wast. They eeze atrca. Ncky.  es, that whppet s The one I nomnate for teestral mmortalty They sy that when The moon s dark a thn whte dog goes racng up and down Apple Hll,  ou see the whte scuts of deer y o to hde, the skunks Scuttle under madenhar, a pond reects the nght andths s the scary part  Out of the transpcuous gloom a dog named Nghtngale Materalzes. I wouldnt lve there i you  pad me." Love,  ove Is mmortal Whppoorwll, I know that. How can I know that? God knows, I may be dumb

279

T Mo ot Poem

my ! Ws he grve  Lned h moss  hndfu of doers ossed n dd mr rtte n  pne box r ere the shes sctered here mkeed oss Crry her seeds ke te men I see  mn nked nd hndsome n the pond. I see  horse umer up  h i see tomoes set to rpen on  s I see  og to dogs Whppoor of he mysterious determned nner fe Le me n et me out e me nd mysef n  cry qut nd pretty rembng hysterc Rossgno epng ou of he bck se of n open cr never o be see gn Rest e  rest mong hese hs nd mounns n utumn ong n mpe coors crmson yeo ornge green h he rpeness  resurrecton eves eves eves hen t's me cover us .

280

noher day nother dolor  shopping list  watermelon wedge blueberries (2 boxes) (In a fr recess of summer Monks re playing soccer) Bread (rnold sadwich) Yogurt (plain) Taster's Choice Brim Milk (2 qts) Whipping cream ispozLite  Riders Something for Sunday dinner Blue TopSiders (lOY2) Little apples Paper napkins? Guerlain Imp6riale Steak Nozema medicated shave foam lkaSeltzer Baume Beng KY There is not one store in this goodsized village that will deliver Guess Ill have to cll a cab while I ate my oatmeal and read the Coue Expe (that reman whos been doing it with adolescent girls got wentyve years "Sodomy in the rst degree; sodomy in the second degree: sodomy in the third egree: whats that  about? and a theater group is putting on a show called Bulle  the Potato Salad) it bega hertily to rain: not in drops In liquid shafts driving into the lawn and earth drilling holes beating up The impatiens petunias lilies (whose cocklike buds are ting orage) and The blueypurple owers like larkspur only not so nice (there is a bowl 281

T Moi of t Poe

Of eversting on my dressing tbe Id ike to dump it out: I hte the e Of their ppery sti pets: why fe it hen  Cnt hep mysef, fe, ee) Rin ths morning I iked it more thn su, if I were  younger I woud hve Rn out nked in it, my hir fu of Pre, chied  nd oving it, censed, Reeshed, t one with quince nd ppe rees.As it ws it ws enough to Sit nd et nd wtch it, wet wevings of  summer morning,  nd   to stop My mother om samming ever window nd shutting out �the sme The sweet, sweet sweet sme of moing rin, in  your nose on bre skn "Dnt shut tht window it isnt coming in We, it might  come in nd Im  the one who w hve to cen it up Sm.I  open it gin his Rin w ast bout thirty seconds (it did), Im wtching it nd i It srts to bow in I cose the window. ee  you do nd you cn Mop it. I red bout Brin Goode he et Oympic teen Age swimmer nd fee ike smshing dshes (never  forget the mong when Moher yeled, "Dont you re  throw tht ight bulb  t me!  I didnt I Smshed it on the w when youre sound seep and someone ynks the Covers o . )Two peope obstinte s mues, who  ove ech other: I wonder Sf   ·bout deth I ughed too nd sid, m redy to go ny  time. W, immy she sid: "No I men it. I wish it ws 1938  or 39  gn 282

and Bee was seepng Wth me n the tent at the back of the yard  the tme we got up In the starry nght and went downhl, down Oean Road, dowhl agan And through the pasture where the cows coughed and exhaed warm breath, Barefoot among the cow ops (Dutchmans  razors) and stands of thstes and Buttercups the cows wont eat i youre not a f  boy, comng up aganst A cow the sze of a batteshp s not unnerng) (now what  was  the name of that boy, the cowfucker, Who ed down Oean Road  To each hs own), sharp cropped dewy grass between toes to where Caznoa Creek made a bg bend and the wam and muddy water was deep  enough to swm n.Starghted sent Rppes as you stroke the thck back shapes aganst the  black are od bg trees Bee cmbs Up nto one and des nght ar s oudy shattered by a  spash the crash when the curtan rses In La Tavaa  on Act One Voetta s hang an at home   we dont hae towes and stand on the cay Bank to et the ar d  us o, grabbng at each others cock  ony, t not that knd of frendshp Mosty because Berne was Cathoc and worred about cofesson and such me, n thse days I was randy most A the tme The back doorbel rngs: ts the aundry  ad, hes got my sacks, a buck twenty-e, Hes funny-faced, sknny and muscuar, red-god har, and, sgh,  wears a broad pan weddng rng I make Myself sound ke a drty od man, a hound, aways on the sn  the truth s I haent had se n oer a year And a half as Ethe sang Whe he ly ma i he wld Yu ae abu Tal f mebdy ele A Wal Ou .  (Mr Coe Poter, and I

May be msquotng) Bob, who  I kddng? In some ways you were brght and gfted, 283

 Mo ot Poe

in thers, yu were ne dumb xI insist, _ Thugh, yu were gted much mre than, smehw, yu culd  let yursel knw: spending it in rivial Ways: n: hiding it under the sd, where yu culdn't nd r use itLve letters   said t make dull Reading: I have ne rm yu that's as gd as Byrn, and n it yu wrte in yur weird hand, Im nt Ging t read this ver because i I d I'll tear it up I  keep that letter but nly nce have I taken it Out and read it uch clgne in a shaving cutWhere are yu? I dnt want t knw (yes I d) Hw are yu? (wh cares?) did yu and yur wie divrce (that, I am curius abut splittng ater twentythree Years?) wh gt the pretty armhuse in Jersey where the ellw Japanse iris I gave yu ursh? and why did Yu keep saying n t a clump  big white chrysanthemums? Splendid against deep grass at the end  August, ast Unkillable, a perect perennial r a lazy gardener, which yu  were (s am I), again, ld chum, gdbye: I Did a better b with Dnald, I winkled him ut  an antique  shp and back int lie and I didn't knw I'd Dne it until he tld me: they break yur heart and then they  thnk yu: yur heart They break yur Balls and say, Yu really helped me: yu knw,   was in love  with yu; I think the rst, The very rst, Paul, the ne in high schl,  later said, ater that winter  Silent midnght walks in the deep snw, "I culdn't take it: it was t heavy yu put n t much Pressure: but I kept that letter yu wrte me in hat empty  reezing huse: it tuched me Ever time He thught hed gt ut rm under I thught  a new trick a dzen dark red rses r his mther (she, She  was nice), "Paul, I'm very nd  Jimmy I've invited him  t dinner t help celebrate my birthday,  that Must hae pissed him : I went thugh and enyed mysel:  with Paul's parents, surprisingly, I was Never shy, bragging abut my Schuyler descent and h Alexander Hamiltn mrried (it wasnt me): r the dark Summer night when Beiewe were getting ld, plnning t  g t Guatemala, we sill slept in the tentand 2

I crept int their darkened house and up the stairs and into Pauls room and woke im up he was furious but ot Dressed and came out to the Roycrof Inn and ot mildly drunk on n nd Squirt I knew it would work Pal was nuts about Berne. All Beie eer said about him was  I saw your heartthrob the other niht At Kleinhans Music Hal I knew him by his piy little eyes Then one day (snap your ners, tap your toes It was oer I passed him on the street and looked at hm un sheepishly and said, Hi, Paul, he was startled into sayin Helo for the rst time in a year later, not much later but later, comparin notes on our st acquaintance Wit queer (ay if you prefer New York, he sad, One niht I hockd my one ood suit so I could o to the One Two Three Club and her Roer Stes play Cole Porter its cheap i you sit at the bar Im wel  Aware dd you et picked up m not tellin which meant he didnt he was not ood-lookin enouh to  ake it in tat keptboy crowd (between sets Roer Stes sat at his own table with the most beautiful sailor I eer sawon the nihts when I went there. We were sittin on a sofa, side by side and Paul reached out and Put his hand on my crotch and ddled with my y (the crust and ot the horselauh of his li He sure did Hae little piy eyes Lets take a walk to Stikn Pond O K., he sad he was a reaist in a Sickenin sort of way Years afteard he caled me at the Museum and said, Lets et toether I'd loe to But Im oin out of town a Museum show m workin on.   Finis Paul, wth the peculiar cock, short, thick, Twisted, lumpy, like a piece of rotted rope (ie it to the oakm pickers Ill remember you one way, Sittin  front of me in I wonder which class, with beautiful Patricia sittin in front of you and leanin Back while you slowly combed her hair. You were also Luther Smeltzers pet that I did not like it made Me ealous Mr Smeltzer, who opened windows for me on owerin elds and bays where the water reenly danced, Knid into waes by wind the day he disclosed Wliam Carlos Williams to us wrtin a short and seeminly Senseless poem on the blackb0 arde serched the collected

285

T Mo ot Poem

 oms and am nvr sur which it is (Wallac Stvns Mariann Moor Eizabth Bisho I ound or mys vn thn thr's a chanc that I  was somwhat Smartr than Luthr Smltzr Who whr whn what and  why his joualism lssons wr not too novl) nd tlling us about a book that basd its narrativ on Homr stram o consciousnss Dorothy Richardson tr class I askd whr could I gt that book? Chuckl chuckl  whn you'r in collg it wil b tim nough In my quit way I nvr hav card much or hors shit so I  wnt into Bualo to Otto Ubrich's book Sho whr John Myrs to whom th arts stand indbtd thn  workd as a clrk You look intrsting: Hr's a co o my nw lttl magazin Upstate." I bought my book and hitchhikd hom Hiding what It was lik om old book burnr my stathr was an asy trick: "I hav to writ a book rort: its  story about oor ol in Irland Dubin. Probably stinks to high hll its so lthy Hr Lt m s that book: h lad through it not knowig whr to look or Molly Bloom and tossd it at m: Still cant catch: go mow th lawn: I mowd th lawn On day in mrican history classtaught by Miss Pratt so old in 19 sh still wor hr hair  a omadour combd u ovr a ratI was d in th clott Irish rhtorc (as Frak O'Hara said about Dylan homas "I can't stand al that Wlsh sit) whn a mmbr o th Footbal tam land ovr has th book that tlls it lik it is it is hothow did you gt hold o it? "I guss th sam way you did bright and sassy: but to b sokn to by a otball layr and on qual rms! and th shock that anyon would think I was rading it as o! his was art this was truth this Was bauty it was also laborious and dul but I lowd on. Whn I rst knw John shbry h slid m On o his ick tst qustions (w wr looking at a window u_ll o knittd ribbon drsss) I dont think Jams Joyc is any good: do you? hik what did I think I didnt know you wr wed not to lik Jams Joyc h book I suos is a mastric rdom o choic is bttr. hank you Littl J. in a 

Popect of Flowe. Lat eenng Mke mowed the lawn agan  n the lken dawn each leaf and blade and Needle boe t cytal dop damond cut nto peal-haped peect globe ( nee hae een a ound Damond why not d lke a few to attle n my pocket a  change fom attlng change) and the lk Gew won and taned and ayed away and te un pped  the doplet up not all at once no one at A tme a teady anhng nto the a wetenng ehenng  en dewng the day. The day go by lke leae That fall n fall not yet oon o oon  feel my death n  cuent of damp   on the back of my neck Flteed though a wndow ceen (a caement wndowceen   open n the watche of the nght too lazy To make t to the ohn and take a moonlt p nto the tau)  death my death oe ty yea and that  hat  am buldng towad. No cematon thank wom food ol enchment mulch. Anothe mong and  hand you a hammeed le booch dppng ·et hed fom a team. Lke a cue n a Geek myth wate Not an n dop o team n heet wate old a that n a wnunng pool maely fall bendng the Thcktemmed oange lle to the gound tng oeown  ga back fom coched tan to ucculent geen Culng (e nee notced th befoe) maple leae n on  themele lke cupped hand and dclong Coal petole: that one ed leaf bu on  n  an. Hee  a toy about Faeld Pote. A long long Tme ago he went to pant n the fay wood beyond the Double Beache on Geat Spuce Head land. He had h potable eael and wa weang oh neake hot a ht and a taw hat a fame hat. He Set up hop and got to wok: a ew of Bea land (owned by Buckmnte Fulle and h te Roe). t Wa a ne hot day o Faeld took o h clothe   enoy  what alty beeze thee wa and went on meang Maoge medum on h cana. Fom Bea land put out a  owboat o a canoe ( cant emembe eeythng) n t a couple a man and a woman owng o paddlng oe the unny bouncng wate to the ocky pont beyond whee He wa pantng. Faeld thought of deng but on econd 287

T Moi of the Pom

thought reected, This  my island." Now he  Was working the pigments into the medium The couple beached in a coign of the rocks, took ashore their lunch Hamper, and took o her clothes They were under fory and handsomely built They ate their lunch, basked In the sun and Faield forgot them as he went on painting After a rest, the stranger got up and left His mate to wander into the fairy woods (so named by Feld's German goveess when he was a child: because Of the silvery beards of moss that hung from the spruce), pckng and eating wild raspberries that ourish there He looked up and the naked men confronted each other Nobody said Hello, Goodbye Fine day or Whats Your name? He went back to hs woman, they dressed and returnd to Bear Island over the broken gleaming water  Where seals snort and play Our painter, in his farmers hat, naked as a snake-to quote Wlam Faulkner Finished his painting, dressed and ankled home A  winter or two later, in brash New York at a party, Faield Noticed a man across the room who kept ownng at hm The own broke into a smile, the smile broke into a in  The man pointed at him: I know you: you're the man in the hat! I wih I could say they went on to become the Best of ends they didn't though I suppose they chatted: Hows Buckie? Hows Rosie? The painting? he painting did not tu out one of the best I thnk Kenneth Koch has t now Faeld's lfe was ll of Incidents like that, and he always carried them o with aplomb Like the time he ws canoeing naked and guess  What got sunburned I lke  think o sunb on a day like today rain in sheets and thunderclaps and Lightning bolts in the house the ghts icker on and o:  we may go up n a sheet of ame: would th Rain put it out? Who knows? I wish I were paddling an Old Town canoe with red and peeling shoulders, bouncing Over and cutting through curlng and cy water: uent below me the giant seaweed called devil' s�apron,  While there in the pebbly shallows o Landing Beach John gathers mussels to scour and beard with a wre Brush and an oyster knfe, t steam and serve hot in soup plates, rich with the salts of the sea Do you often

288

Experience dj vu Jimmy Edwin aked me Why ye I ad (old Truthul Thoma). He and eorge exchanged  look ike a nod That prove t t eemed to ay  ot· o people beleve tht a pronene to dj vu that Strange and not unwondeul eelng I have experienced th thi ight thee tree thee bird heard the very  Word you are aying beore or t a clck nto place and I know what you are about to ay Pleae Stop picking your noe: there you aid it: they ee thi a a ymptom o chizophrenia Hence  The look between ie old Edwin (the color o lvery parchment and knowng eorge (whoe look were begnning  To go it want dj v that told me they both were hung like talon: ony a ght ce o experience I wa eelin upet enough od know the anatorum door tood agape: but I ubcrbe to a mpler explanation One lobe o the brain regiter the event what in mple reaity i aid or happen or i een while the other Lobe take it n a plt econd an inniteimal plt econd later o n a ene there  a real d vu Hal the bran ha experienced the experience: I have been here beore you have o knowitall eorge and Edwn can go crew themelve wth tlk o gla wheat Lke my dream th mong catng a pa over  Thi part o the day (why did t have to top rainng Donald and Roy exchanged a harp glance it meant Jimmy i going over the hll: I let n pique and took the  uncular down th andtone cl on ether Sde bunemen n hat and carryng biecae were uckng each other o n cavelke cubicle: on  The unle beach the day ater a torm with creamng and  wheeling gul and otam and jetam board Stuck wth bent and ru nal and wound with bladder wrack they-the border patrol the cop the uzzStopped me and aked to ee my pport: in my mind I could ee it n a dek drawer n an orange room In th land you cant orget your paort I tued and let them and they let me go I cmbed the gritty Step which oon penetrated the cl the rear entrance to a horrible apartment houe n the ronx to o orard coud only get wore I tued and ran back down

289

The Mo of  Pom

o where he unne issued from he ci: Beow me bos \Vere gheng rocks on he bech wih which o sone me  woke up, gd o ge ou of m Fresh whie bed (usu,  woud rher seep hn do nhing):  wh shoud  drem ike h  me wih goom, A kind of mor hngover:  m wn o die, bu  es  m s ive? Ws i on eserd   Awoke o sreming rin om  drem,  vision, ike  e pining of Fied's, one of he ones of  misshp_en Sun buing hrough mis over  sidng moing se? There is on one sk  pewer pe, esi ben  There re wo windows: ou one ss m be dmp bu ooks dr; ou he one o he es, encosed b rees, he Brod nd poned ees of Soomon'sse re hick se wih  wer drops, s es o gher s cooress wid Berries in  ce in  c, s beds on  Pou dnce frock green bre eked ih bue nd gier Jpnese nes nd serpenine,  confei bizzrd, New Yers Eve on  ship  se, shm Jones, he Coon Snders  Bnd And now for our pesure, dies nd genemen, Miss rene Bordoni Or ws i Fi DOrs? Ls nigh, riing  he Od Orchrd nn,  sh ood Wh woud  bnk, m broher sked, be crz enough o nnce  House on he  b  creek where he cer is bound o ood  whenever i rins? Wh, indeed? Crossing Czenoi Creek he smooh rcing wer ws mos up o he brdge, sen, smooh nd cresed,  ossed Ou engh of coeecoored sin Sdisic,  hop6d o see  drowned Hosein oing b,  ship of Furr esh, is udder ike  moor Drowned Hosein ees bu no  Jerse A beer moing comes o pss Sunigh buered on he grss Le, e,  ie wke Finding pesure for is on ske Redng books o pss he ime Prin on pper, ge, sime Uni bere he dwn  gr Ligh breks, wi he d be g Or wi hundersones ro his w?  The former, es, i m  ou,

290

Though, no the latter stil come abou  jingleangle the day may pass Light eshly buttered on the ass. My mother goes o to the podiatrist: she has an ingrown toe nail ifs tuing black and looks inected My sister-inlaw will drive It hurt so much yesterday morning {Sunday) she almost ddn't go to church Unheard-o Ever weekend we have the same talk: Jim, woudnt you ke to come to church?" Sometimes Im ude and say Lay o!" Mostly I manage a polite No thank you" I wish you would. I wishes were horses then beggars could rde In other words Im not going to church I wouldt obect i you Want to go to the Catholic church" " I wanted to go to the Catholic church then I woud go As it happens I dont" Then why do I carry a rosay with me Partly because a hamad old woman gave me one (I have two, s it happens. You look like a good boy" she said here take this": a handul o beads and a dangling cucix I remember the beads slipping through my ngers decade ater decade, as the car spun east through Newport the luxuy Cottages, the cs, the sea: what happened to what I thought were my resolutons, praying in the Lady Chapel At St Patricks, going to Mss wth kindly Father Lynch, attending a lecture by Karl Ste, the Cathoc psychiatrst That was a tu-o: his idea o sin was certainy not mine: I have never been Sure about sin: wong, yes, but sin and evl, it al gets too glib, too easy Then meeting the head o Fordham, Like a handsome snake with George Rat hair (only silvey) who gave me the sh eye: except or Father Lynch I can Live without Jesuits I can live, it seems, without religion though I have never wanted to Brush in hand, Youve slipped out o my poem: I have such condence in your uture, in what youl create, with paint and Canvas, Cont crayo� and heavy paper views aces, a pier glass in a long room, a ence hung with roses out a Grden window: is the stereo playing, and i so, what The Ring, Scriabin moth-wing strokes o Sviatoslav Richters Steady ngers Here, I have no phonograph: televsion My mother watches {i.e, dozes o while I sit and read

29

T Moing o Poem

The Olmpics were n marelos slowmotion ndewater shots replas o swimmers arms and sholders Fleing and plling and the t and psh o the wall the high divers leaping and spinning to straighten And smoothl slice the water; the gmnasts the reenearold girl rom Rmania who cold do nthing anthing she pleased delightl enchanting and how the crow went wild when the Rssian weight Liter broke the Olmpic record and then cme back to break all other eisting records: Hes the strongest Man in he world!" the annoncer sqealed Laes and gentlemen, ove jst seen him the worlds strongest Man!" His voice broke in his ecitement Then horses and hrdles and Princess Anne her horse was too eist to Handle: the roal amil decorated a bo the Qeen Prince Philip th Prince o Wales hs brothers: a Closep shot: m mother came to long enogh to sk Does the Qeen have an chldren" And dozed o again I switch to Mod : Adam Greer (plaed b Tige Andrews) is shot b almost invisible poison pellets: He passes ot on the grass: will Pegg Lipton and Clarence Williams III nd ot what the poison is in Time to obtain an antidote It seems lkel. Bt what  o painting oh o who paint on West 22nd Street Yore not mch o one or writing letters are o Bt then o said o werent so I cnt complain No More am I. A bnle o postcards all o them dll sits and has sat on this desk or das This ateoon I mst Mail them to o Bt it looks like rain! Not again I wish I cold send o a bndle o orange lilies To paint The standand leanin a row at the top o a wall b the drive. Ther anthers are so delicatel Hng that jst walking past makes them swing and i the brsh or clothes te leave brown stains Wake p In the ·night ater midnight and open the casement screen and std the road gliding downhill brightl Lighted b a misshapen hal moon almost white scooped ot o lemon ice How can macadam or is it called Asphalt or blacktop) retrn this lnar light as a river or creek might On ths qiet smalltown sreet Whose car coas qiel p the hill at this late hor Reting

292

 fom a socal even? A ngh woke gong home To bed? aven I seen is ca a hs hou befoe? Abou now M Talbo used o dive home fom he Bualo pape fo whch he woe a naue column hunng and shg, he was of wldl and wha was and Wasn bugeonng n elds and swamps And a lle lae oe Palmes sedan slid b also home om a Bualo Pape a deen pape a ewe man Ohe people lve n he houses: I know a lo of dead people: I Don hnk of them much Sandng a he ndow, sang a he see sang a he ee behnd whch swfl Slps he bgh ws of a demmoon I wsh fo someone o ake a nocual soll wh lke he moonless Ngh on Gea Souh Beach when he waves boke and spaed us and ou pu ou am aoud m shouldes and I though ·Wh can w walk on lke hs foeve? Sand sneakes A ca (called he Geen Bomb) a dve home a Sowe, mussed shees bed sleep s oal black a fou wndows meled no he false dawn Sleep no sunshne A Censhaw melon, and ou dve awa m chlled a hs wndow hee n wesen New Yok, sudng and losng Whas lef of he moon: omoow ngh heell be a bgge sevng. An Augus mong, cool and cloudless Maple leaves lghtl movng confes peecl sll, obns skmmng he gass whee a fa black dog named Coela jus ook a dump a sk no blue bu whe up he valle  fom Olean a fegh tan passes (he dsan Sound of beakes) down the valle owad Olean he loudness and smell of desel ucks, chldens voces shll: Backad smmgpool voces One an ollng owad Bualo gh fe he ohe has ae: s Ranng no knowng wh. You pu down ou bush and s down and stae a wha ouve paned You lgh a mld Cgaete o a thn cga. Whoeve knows wha a pane s hnkng? Is  obscue and mugg n Chelsea, o lgh and Shve he wa  s hee? Wha shall I do wh he es of he monng? Showe, shave we o Babaa, Go upown and bu cool mlk n wax caons? Call m nephew and go  a walk? T o emembe wha I Fogo? Wha I can emembe s he name of m New Yok doco: Mua Bu Mua wha? I mus have  293

The M f he oem

Writen dow someplace, and if I haven't "you can tell me. When you read this oem you wll have to decide Wich of the yous are you I tink you will have no trouble, as you rise om your chair and take u your Brush again and scrub in some green, that articular green, whose name I cant remember Thank God the Sky cleared: I tink its tonight that the moon is  Round and white as oaque ice, hung from a sky hook Over a city avenue, tonight, riding slowly u a rural sky, a wheel of Gounandise with the foil eeled o, smelling Sweetly of cherries, the colorless side of a Royal Anne cherry, shedding light erhas, erhas with a ring on The blue-serge night: does a ring arod the moon orend ran? I bet it does, I bet it will, this dank and Somber summer The screen through which I eer cbes all into  samler stitches the suerime shadows laid Out in toiary· work, a dolhin, a sire, a dog, your name, at and roughly clied, dark on light dark een On bright moon green, the world smells of mown ass. I think I see a montan it must be a cloud: there is No mountain. Let there be a mountain: Why not? Didnt Long Islnd have a hrricane last night? Didnt I long to be there in the four-oster bed nd hear the shutters ratle and the windowanes whistle and sing And the thunder of the surf, wind in the giant lane tree? And to get u in a cleared-o day and go to the beach And the dunes and see the scattered wrack, sh and weed and (always) some castu surrse: shing Ger, net, an ominous object of red and orange lastic, breakers rough, dull and  of sand and the sinusClearng oceanic smell Dunes carved into new shaes, salt air, combing trough the cut grass, beach lum, Unkillable rosa rugosa Maybe a big beach cottage hs had its foundation o_f sand eroded by water and wd Tolng, ready to tumble why so much leasure in wrack and ruin? A house falls into the sea my heart Gives a um But the aer says the eye  the hurricane and the moon-drawn hgh of he tide did not coincide: Probably nothing much haened What a gy Or better this way? At least I neednt feel guilty for my leasure  wrack and ruin Suerime shadows sneaking over the lawn, 2 94

 buzz w lng  ree no oron, r Comng u he hll o dnner he  e Jell0, me mokng nd ou nng no lenng our bruhe Though bou h ou re no quie o ruulou  ome I know wh for dnner? Shrm roquee? rbr Gue en me  rd, Arheurl Pereve, Iln, le 15h Cenur, u h gve me  ng, h mke Me long o ke ou o h lovelie lnd nd we ould v Venz, V u he drve o he Vll Round, he buldng wh he noble role n he world, ee he u of he gh of e  ou Slowl ermble hrough gr ered wih ekng whe hken, go o he hllo wll nd look Down  he eld below, here eok fn her l I doub  wll hen ll, here our roeed  To Whngon nd he Nonl Gller, h o look forwrd o Pning re uh  leure n I em ou Wh Clevelnd nd oon nd limore? Clfo, frnkl,  u oo fr. Suerme hdow, m gr Jue re begning o ow. rbr wre, I n ee ou workng & okng our hed oudoor n he evenngor Tkng  le wlk he m be rgh. She w rgh, I oked m hed ou of door fer uer beef  Tomo uek nd here he ger lile were, n  row bove  lo wll bove he drve n whh grew A few more ger lle, reddh ornge, el urnng bk, drk brown ollen, no en, he rong Thk em beded wh round blk eed Furher on,  he brdbh,  bn rl ed wh Gunk hldhood memor Pu down h book nd go rub he brdbh, o he le nd qune ree Lookng o old, o unkem I remember lnng hem, he were u eedlng, or do I men lng Now The nd, unruned, unberng, mohered n wg of Conord gre leve lighl, hevl movng lke he Heve of he e, lef over lef, nd hung mong hem loud green bunhe of e. I would lke o w And ee hem emurle, I would lke o w nd e h rulr e, o wee when here rell re dd The ell ou h f ou wllow hem he eed wll h n our endx nd gve ou eron I 295

The M fh em

Alway wallow them, dont you? etting the oozy ape meat lide down my throat lke an oyter: grape, oyter And champagne: bli i uch a imple thing A ded photograph ho\ it ay in penci on the back), hi i What the wood are like white-temmed tree, mudge needle), rough oft a. I made limeade tcky Finger: I drink and type: ticky key.) Thoe wood, that iland and the bay, I wont forget them oon, Nor that ame moon I aw lat night hang in glory over thi mall hill I ued to ee ride, emboomed, in the fullne Of the ky it lit etching the tall, till pruce and catng it light on the rippled water that led o and o To ocean and to where you cannot ee: to go out through the dining porch among the daiie and the crag And moon-bathe Have you ever wum at night in water o cold it like ·plunging into a cae of knive, your quickly Moving limb dripping with moontone, liquid moontone? I ted my back and thi mall een world went hadowle: The nimbu i back at four in the afteoon: no moon tonight. Before dawn I woke and made my oatmeal, orange uice and Coee and thougt how thi poem eem moty about what Ive lot: the one who mattered mot, my bet friend, Paul Who mattered leat), the Iland, the Calfoia wildower paper, the thi, the that, Whippoowill, buried friend, And the thing I only write between the lne What can one write between the line Not one damn thing. ook over Your houlder, into the future: one thing I want to ee i heavy now falling in Chelea, to walk in it, now Bloing in my face, from where I live to where you live, to tomp the now o in yor vetibule, to punch your bell, To hear the buzzer buzz, to puh the door and ee the open inide door and you miling there: "Hi-ee: how are You? What will it be? The uual? A tall cold a of Vichy. Winter in New York, when the big wet ake Stream horizontal Funny, I havent beat my meat in daywhy that) I think it may rain again tonighta Shower, a matteringuddenly I eel it in the breeze that lift the paper on which I type. I mell It, faintly, the freh faint mell of coming ummer rain. I ued to climb out my t-oor bedroom Window, naked, into it: the lippery wet bathmat gra, the 296

an, both cool and wan, lsterng down M hr, ra rn all over me as I danced or stood n t, the long ersstent tongues of summer ran Want a tr around the world OK And so t dd, the lckng, bathng summer ran. Another dawn as Gra as hands that shovel ea coal nto an Aga cookstove under t, the walks and road sne slck as though Greased wth Vaselne n the mddle of the nght, dee n the dark of that tme of the mong when t Seems lght wll never ret and onl a weght of black go on and on, what a storm we had, the lancng of the Ran, the thunder cracks and lghtnng bolts haenng as one I thought the house was struck, or at least a Nearb tree,  bedroom lghtng u n ares lke the strobe lght n a dscotheque You bet I ddn't go out In that for· an sex ran bath no-sreebob. The ar s cool but heav, clamm, robns re gerng earthorms om the lawn I see one long worm wrggle as t's swallowed. Earl, so erl, t lghl rans agan or s It dros showerng down from leaves on other leaves So earl that te mornng aer hasn't come et Erc arsen brngs t, he's about trteen, wth ellow Scandnavan har rst hs older brother asses, wth Paers for houses further u the hll, then, at, oh, seven or so, Erc trudges across the ass to leave he Coui Expe on the brck stes Good mong, Erc, Good mong, gr, but wth a sh smle, and I St down to coee and the news the Reublcan Conventon, raes and muggngs, rson arsonI don't know wh Is ve bg on the Nagara Fronter. A b ber hs been bus on these summer nghs the Coui kees Pontn out he doesn't seem to want to hur anbod, he just wants to see the wood me nd roar u nto The nght sk (although one herd of Holstens were roasted n ther stalls erhas our frend ddn't know That the were there) I'm glad hs meat s not small whte claboard houses A da comes n a month, n a season, nd You wsh twere some other month, another season. I never have liked August much, I wsh t were Setember, October, I wsh t were the fll Fallng leaves, gltterng blue skes, n the countr, late goldenrod 29

h Mornng of t Pom

Ad ater,  the , a rakle to the ar, a rakle, ad at the ame tme a balme The Bluebrd Laudry truk ome ad goe (I med my hat wth the ekled drer), there are mall dadelo attered  the law o, yellowed Euoymu leae blow dow by lat ght' torm Wth all that udde fore, ot A gle lly talk wa bet or broke They tad  row  meal tregth ad ure ther etal bak Ad ge a ot to Augut. l he are about are leae ad ower ad weather ad who are you, whh Male are you I mea, the oe who ure t leae lke had dlog k alm, growg  luter o Brahe wth ler bark ad already bearg e, x, olored (a lght rh red) leae A ler bark? Awam male t that the oe whoe leae t t? I thk t , I remember oe, deely blazg Full  late ummer, growg  wamy groud where the waterfall tumbled ad tkled dow to feed the beaer od. The other eeg my mother ad I were wathg   the lg room whe omethg fell, a metal lag o the Bak too. I wet ad ut the outde lght o ad looked the traha ld had bee koked o ad Perhed o the a full of trah wa the bgget raoo I'e eer ee he tued h head ad looked me I the eye, hoed dow ad walked edately o to the hrub. I ut the ld bak o ad dragged the a to The etbule. I wh you had ee hm, I told my mother, he wa beautful he wa o big" Maybe he Wa a dog, he ad, dee  her rogram I do't kow why, but that break me u, lke tellg omeoe Youe ee a rat, ad they ay, Maybe t wa a fat moue. d loe to hae ked hm u ad held hm, ly, akly, I thought he mght le to bte. I would lke to ut food out for hm, but how ould I kow He wa eatg t ad ot the dog that warm aroud th ll? The dog, they get eough to eat at home The mal ome, the malma mle ad goe away  blue, lowly ad teadly, to the et houe behd a ree f tree ad hrub (rue, forytha). Letter from Keward, Treor, Ae Porer, Darragh ad Domae de Ste Ete, Lambe,  other word, Ae Du, who wrte 8

It was nie having the Hazans here but unfortunatel I had to leave midwa trough their visit as m brother was ding and I wanted to be with hi. In so far as ding of aner is bearable his death was his wife two daughters and mself never left him until the last 24 hous the grandhildren and the dogs ran in and out as usual he was heavil doed but onsious and felt reassured b our being there. I must admit his ding was rett harrowing I have never sat holding someones hand before as the take o. After the funeral Rodrigo and I went to Linoln to see the athedral whih was one of hilis last wishes so we led  for him on the wa there we went to the eak Distrit whih was beautiful olling ountr eked with stone wals and dream os \e staed at Bakewell and ate Bakewell tarts also visited Chatsworth Gardens whih are sensatonal and ut the _ Himalaas to shame the sale is so unningl maniulated etraordinar gowths of giant ow arsle b rushing streams I wish ou had been there. The temeratue was in the 9s whih ou wouldnt have liked muh. I fell in love with the Linolnshire wolds. We ame bak b the Boston Stum (St. Botolhs) re stored b the good eole of Boston Mass and El whose a thedral I real loved muh more so than Linoln. How English the hildren and the dogseseial the dogs running in and out of the room here the man The son brother husband father gandfatherla slowl ding In the midst of life e are in death in the Midst of death we are in life I know how harowing it must have been for ou but though Im not muh of A msti Im sure in that long last handlas he gave ou something: not ust love the eletri ow of his faling ower: a gentle harge: and in ehange took with him from our hsial gr all that ou lt r him al those Years ondensed in a red ulsation And what a ne memorial to take a leasant ilgimage he would have iked to Take Loln the Linonshire wolds the eak Distrit El the gardens at Chatsworth (aton surel?): es I wish I had been wth ou. erhas one da I will. Dear dear Anne. What is the Isle of El Is there Reall an island And when net ou ome to 185 East 85th lease bake me a Bakewel tart Im sure theres a Reie in that Florene White ookbook I gave ou (and I would not mind a Grass Corner udding). Here 299

T Mo of  Poem

Stness, and a ca hons twce, unchte stness  ong we ved n a barbershop, the Perpetua power owers shavng away the reentessy growng ass Peace and uet, a suen sutry sun Sants under a eaden sky A at woan n a oose dress pads down the h whos she A bg whte  Buttery zgzags by, and a saer yeow one dstanty, a dog barks, nearby, a young chd yaers And suawks the neghbors have chdren and grandchdren stng),  subsde nto the uet o y Roo, annuncated by the rapd tckng o y cheap ar cock The phone b cae ast onth  spent A hundred doars on ongdstance cas  ust be bored here, wthout y rends  shoudnt do t but ang France s so uch un Gve e the overseas operator" oh to_ be rch to do a you want, to vst Chatsworth and Bathurst, n New Brunswck oh you know) August ha over and another dawn that s no dawn, a Mezzotnt o a ornng how  used to pore over Pennes Eches a Ech pate ater pate werd, seared Sooty scratched Rebrandt, Whster Goya, Fcen Rops an rslunan whose nae  orget, a strea densey Banked by unown grass water, sunght succuence, a cue d ke to coect etchngs o the post-Whster Perod, nor works by nor asters, evocatve and esh My heavy naked caves are etched wth hars, orn O on the nner sde where y egs rub aganst y jeans On ths serabe Sunday ong (J, are you Se you woudn't ke to coe to church")  ke to st n ths Htchcock char and dy pu y reskn Sttng n y undershortsand drnk ced tea and soke and have a passng sexy thought or soeone  won't ever Havthe eyes, the wde sope o the shouders the thghsand et tunes pay n y head Cary Son sngng Antcpaton," Mado Robn sngng Fascnaton," goden odes  know soeone who when he wakes up n t e Mong kes to just e there nd e hse  over aybe hes arad he vanshed n the nght  rather Wsh he woud)  ke to e n bed at nght and read and e yse, shouders, arpts, chest bey, crotch And aybe tweak a har Once  ound a knd o a swar o oes 300

on m rb cageonl I dont tnk te were oles I dont know wat te were not scabes not a ras te lums owts a colon I ut rubbng alcool on Tem and n a few das te were gone. I dont lke an funn busness stu lke tat Heres smle! Tats a drag Ee salve s good for t I found tat out m a doc n Zuc were I staed n a snowwte otel besde te een glass nd rusng rver on wc swans onted ustream toward te brdge on wose balustrade I was drunkenl leanng one Januar ngt wen some men came b and soke to me n Geran Surel ou seak Engls I sad: te tougt I was a gas We went someere to drnk and soon I ws n bed wt a sule gra-ared man lang snkes ang bout and knockng te bedsde lam on te oor He ran one of te bg otels and used to send me ackets of arrons glacs srnkled wt canded volets te desk clerk gave me funn looks wen e anded me  dal trbute How I gobbled tem u! I wonder wa m cums name was Once wen we were dnng te Strng qurtet laed Wen Wen and e leaned across te table and took m and and sad Ts wll be our team Song t took a wle to gure out wat e meant nd once e sad Come we steed nto s batroom He cked a razor u and saved m sdebus o Wat crust I ddnt reall mnd toug Id onl grown tem Because wat else do ou do on a nneda crossng Wat I dd mnd was tat t emerged e was a major bore so I acked  duds and took an eress tran to Geneva wc I onl went to because I wanted to sta at a otel were Henr James ad staed t ad falen on so das and m vew of Lake Leman was one of banks of g I walked ast Calvns ouse on most cobbles bougt a volume of Gdes dar saw George Raft n cc and took te tran To Ital assng te nsraton of Brons Te Prsoner of Cllon Swtzrland so long Jul s gone  unk of ugust a w blank das got lost (I couldnt sto sleeng) te sun came cloudlessl back ot esterda Hotter toda otter stll tomorrow te  set redcts sower bats el Im well bedewed ts mnute m Har slcked down and c orange juce and ced tea wt lemon bot are on m deskno wonder m tme s sent 01

T Mor o Poem

Hngng out over the tolet splshng wy lke  mountn  rill Lte n the fteoon n suenly  cool Breeze sprngs up n strems n the wnow the leves shuer  how  sweet when somethng you rely enjy Unepectely rrves lke the postcr I  got ths mornng from Ne Rorem wth tterng wors bout some Poems how kn how nce but Im g I'm not wth hm on Nntucket where I got one of the worst sunbus of my lfe I woner wht t's lke beng  composer Wrtng goes by so fst:  couple of hours of concenton then you're Spent but musc tkes so much time: the sous come nto your  he but then the writng them own the lttle NotesI cn see Nntucket now sn n whppng grss uner   gre of sun There re not mny slns I relly Lke the ones where the rocks re slthery uner the  thck sewee when the te s out where the Hert of the sln beneth tll trees s l overgrown wth fes n moss begemme wth fog n s slent spongy To wlk on on other ys  scente sprgy mttress to stretch  out on Lttle bots emerge from behn other Islns utter pece n totl privcyStll Nntucket hs ts  ponts but I prefer to go north n further north Mne New Brunsck Nov Scot Oh whts to mke such  ss bout I lke ll sorts of plces I cnt Beleve t I hve to go pss gn t's le tht nght n Prs when I rst got bombe on Peo I Ws mkng my wy long the boulevr bck to the hotel when  tht I h to go n my b6ok,

 nor coul I runI plunge my But tht just sn't close  left hn n my pocket n got  goo grp lke Stppng the ow n  hose n wke stlegge log the  pressure the pn ws somethng else My Brow  ws wet : I me t there I  ws conontng  urnl I nche own my zpper n put my rght hn nto The openng heous trum there ws just no wy I coul  trnsfer my swollen tool from hn to hn thout  et Gushng rth (nse my pnts) lke when Moses ht the rock so I  t there ws pss l over Pris not To menton my shrt n pnts ght sun tns: why couln't t 30