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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