THE MOSAIC MAN

THEMOSAICMAN

COLLECTEDPOETRY(1966-2023)

CharlesStewart

Aulecture 1

PARTONE: NewYear’sDay:1966. 2

PARTTWO: UrbanLandscapes,Autobiographies,Transfigurations,Mythologies,Exequies. 8

PARTTHREE: ProgrammeforaSymphony:FourMen 50

PARTFOUR: Exequies,Transfigurations,Mythologies,Autobiographies,UrbanLandscapes. 71

PARTFIVE: Eclogues:HamletinHoplands. 158

PARTSIX: Transfigurations,Exequies,UrbanLandscapes,Autobiographies,Mythologies. 178

PARTSEVEN: LeParnasseContemporain 258

PARTEIGHT: Transfigurations,Autobiographies,Exequies,Mythologies. 328 L’Envoi 434

Aulecteur

THEMOSAICMAN

TheVampireishere

Hisfoodisbloodanddeath Beholdhimifyoudare

Hebreatheslivingbreath

Helovestheendofspring ThelastdayofJuly Nourishedondyingthings Hismagpieheartisdry

Askeletonbyday

Heputsonfleshatnight

Thesmallbrightstonesinlay Disguisethegrinningfright

Glimpsedthroughthecracksbetween Theboneofhisskullawan Mirrorforyourbaddreams BeholdtheMosaicMan

HereIam,aninfantinanancientland: Herewherecenturiesofmenhaveleft Toscarletbannersflyinginthemorningair; Clankingtoboatsthatwhisperedofdeparture, HissingacrossawateryworldunknownWherecalmcouldmeanthedeathofhalfavessel, AndsailswerebillowedbythebreathofGodWheremendiedstrangesaddeathsindistantcountries, Whilesomereturnedtobringthefardeathsback Andmakethemafamiliarpartofliving; Untilthewholeworldshrunkintothisland Wherecenturiesofmenhadrearrived, Foralwaysthisnewlandwasnevernew: ToRomans,Saxons,Normans,itsurprisedthem Withshocksofrecognition,asahome. (PerhapsHisfeethadtrodhere,afterall.) And

Iamarrivinghereagain,thisfirsttime, Topathswheremyfather’sfeethadwalkedtoschool; Whereancestorslieburiedandforgotten, But,beingdead,donotforgetushere.

900yearsago,itwas,hesailedhere, AstewardofWilliam,withtheNormanfleet; Astrangerfromthecoldblondnorthhestood,clear Eyed,surveyingthelandthatlayasleep Afterthebattle,greenandpeacefullooking, Butfirmandwelcomingunderneathhisfeet; Heldbyathought,hepaused,and,withoutkneeling, ThankedGodwithallhisheart:thelandwouldkeep Hischildrenandhischildren’schildrenafterHestrodetheblood-driedearth,weepingwithlaughter

ToScotlandthentheycame,andtooktheland Which,throughtheyears,becameanotherland AtoddswithwheretheNormansfirsthadstoodAndGod’sgoodwillwasonthesideofeach. Bloodsproutedfromthewoundsofmenagain, Arteriesemptiedintothethirstyearth, Commingledwitholdblood,alreadydust,

Rekindledoneliveblood,whichcoursedthecountry Underground,throughveinsofearth,becoming

OneCeltic,Roman,Saxon,Normanblood: Abloodmorerealthanbloodoflivingmen; Alandmorerealthanflesh,warmerthanskin: Abloodasrealaswine,orBloodofChrist; Alandasrealasbread,orFleshofChrist: Thebonesofburieddeadbecameonevast Skeletonoftheland,andofthepast.

Thegrassisgreenagain,andwhispersnow Ofsenselesscivilwars,andsenselessdeath, Andcomingstogetheronlyforotherwars Withotherlands:cruelcrazyalternations Offightingselfandothers:weepingnations Battleatime,anddie,whilegenerations Glitteratime,andfade,andpass,aswars Swellupagainlikewoundsimproperlyhealed: Andallthatcouldbelearnedislostindeath. Thegrassissilent,cannottellushow

Icamehere

aninfantfromasavagehome, Afoster-landthatfedmebittermilk, Indigestible,thatgaggedasitnourished: Aplacenotgoodorbad,butjustaland

Different,alien,new: Whereotherblood Flowsunderground;feedinganothergrass.

Butdryandburntandrustlinggrowsthegrass: Notthecoolgreenmeadowsofmyfather’shome; Notthesnow-bredcoursingofhisblood; NotthewalkstoschoolthroughthemorningmilkWhitemist;nottheslowlysoftlychangingland Thatcenturiesofrottingdeadhadnourished.

Andwhenhegrewhelefttheplacethatnourished Him,andsoughtfornewanddifferentgrass Wherehecouldsinkhisrootsintotheland: And,aftercontinentsofseekinghome Hestopped,andtastingafamiliarmilk Atlasttocalmthewanderingthrobofblood.

Itisnoteasy,settlingoldblood: Divideditwillgrowlikethosetwinsnourished Andbroughttomanhoodbytheshe-wolf’smilk Who,whileyoung,playedandsportedonthegrass Anddidnotquestionthatitwastheirhome Butloveditforitself. Andyettheland

Grewupbetweenthemastheygrew;theland Becametheirdifference;andfreshyoungblood Wasspilt,becauseeachlovedanotherhome, Revertedbeast-liketotheonewhonourished Them. Andsomyfoster-homefedmedrygrass Insteadofthefamiliarpromisedmilk.

AndthenababeIdrankmymother’smilk Dividedonceagain: halfIreland AndhalfthefierywineofSpain. Thegrass Ofbothlands,mingledwithmyfather’sblood, Conceivedamixturerich-butundernourished Inacountrythatcouldneverbemyhome.

SoIcamehometofindabettermilk, Benourishedbyanolderkinderland, Wherewispsofbloodstillwhisperfromthegrass.

YetstillIhunger,still inanancientvoice

Ihearthegrass,butcannotunderstandthelanguage Thatitspeaks. Insidemywombafoetusrattles Kickingtobefree. YetIamimpotent

Toconceivethehealthychild: Istiffen Withrejectionofthesenses;Istream, Iscreamwithinterruptedcoitus, Unabletofulfilinsidemyself Thefinishedchild;unabletobringforth

Thepoem alone

Therootsarecutaway,thewitheredplant Knowsnothingbutadryanddesperatewant.

Thewindblowsflecksoffoamuponthestrand

Idonotknowthesourcewhereitmustspring Iknowthatsomewheretheremustbealand

Thebeachisrippledlikethesea,thesand Isruffleddownuponaseagull’swing Thewindblowsflecksoffoamuponthestrand

IfIcouldtagawildbirdinmyhand Thenletitgoandwatchitswandering Iknowthatsomewheretheremustbealand

WhatifIfollowedit,andcouldnotstand Toseethesightsitsjourneyingwouldbring Thewindblowsflecksoffoamuponthestrand

Butthisbeallmyeyesarefitfor,and Thewinds,blownthroughtheblindingwhitefoam,sing Iknowthatsomewheretheremustbealand

So,inmyheart,acityisunwound Wheremankindcanendureanything Thewindblowsflecksoffoamuponthestrand Iknowthatsomewheretheremustbealand.

Isthistheplace?

Thereonthedistantshore

Faintfadingechoeswerewashedupatmyfeet And,ratherthanretreatorholdmyground, Iadvancedbackward,withthesteadygait Ofaninfant’sfirstfewsteps,keepingmyeye Ontheremnantsofacivilisation Oldandlostnow,butbetter,intheend, Thannocivilizationatall.

Land

Swamintomyview,grewlargeranddiminished

Inafadingseventh. Theoldnewcountry Disappeared. Islandsstartledthehorizon

Inawasteofsea. Drawingcloserin, Icouldseethechordsofswarmingislanders Scalingthecliffs,ascendingtothetop, Anddisappearingbeyondtherealmofsound.

Thenonthedecktheheavynativefeet, Misshapen,broad,fromclimbingontherocks Impossibletofitwithshoes,camepounding Greatoctavechords,likedrum-beatsontheplanks Descendinginthebass. Theirwaresweresold, Thetouristboughtcrudecarvedandplaitedtrinkets, Andtheydeparted,inmanufacturedboats, Half-civilisedtogreed:whilestillthepast Clunginbrightcolourfulshredsabouttheirnecks, Blowinginthewindastheypulledaway

Etpuis,etpuisencore?

Awasteofsea.

Dappledbylandsthatfadedinthemist Andreappearedonlytofadeagain Andreappearasotherlands. Unreal. Beneaththeplungingprowthewavesbeatup Assolidsheetsoflivingsea,andstood Suspendedintheair,onlytoshatter

Infoaming,flashing,freshsaltsea-greendrops Whichstood,suspendedintheairagain, Asiftheseaitselfmustlivetwolives Whileeachboatpassesoverit. AndI, Feelingthedesolatesprayuponmyface Initsjourneybacktothesea,feltthejoy Ofitsbleakreturnassaltdropsonmylips. Surginglikebloodacrosstheveinsofocean Wetravelledonthestream,torearrive Atthecoreofheart. Thenewoldcountry Appearedoutofthefog,quitesuddenly Atnight,thelightsofFolkestoneclusteredthere Ontheshadowycoast. Andwewerehome.

Butisthisthentheplace?

DIGRESSION._____________

Basically, I still believe T.S. Eliot was right when he said that poetry is an ‘escape’ from emotion.

Why?

Verypersonal: Reading aloud. Tragic or merely pathetic fiction. The death of Ilyusha or Emma Bovary or Platero. My voice breaks constantly. Theyare,orallyspeaking,barelyreadable. Atremendous effortofthewillisneeded. Prosecanbeaharrowingexperience. Andshouldbe.

Butpoetry?

Even the most tragic voice. From Tichborne toLowell. Canberead,unbroken,totheend. Yet the experience is deeper. And stays with you at least as strongly. Or stronger. As long. Or longer The metre, the rhythm, carries the emotionalongwithit,unbroken. Ifyoufeelyourself going, vocally, you can pull yourself back intoharness,backtothelineandtherhythm. Itis,so tospeak,beyondemotion.

As Yeats said, not even the worst actress in the world would think of crying at the death of Cleopatra.

The impersonality of even the most personal of poetry Its holding itself within a strict form. Forcingitselfintoanorder. Anarbitraryorder. Personal? Buttrue.

Apoemsatinmyheart,waitingtobewrittendown,whileIwasstretchedupontherack oftwenty-sevenyears,torturingmyback andspine:butstillIcouldnotgetridofit.

Ihadgothome,myrootsweredown,andyet thehalf-expectedScotch-snapleftmeslack: collapsedonthebaregroundlikeanoldsack emptiedofitscontents,unabletofit

Intoanyworld:rememberedwavesofpain whippingmynakedfleshagainandagain whilemysoulwhimperedearthward-ForGod’ssake

Leteachscarbecomeasonnet,madetoburn lessfiercely,inoldformsandmetresborn: Makemyheartgrowstronger,orletitbreak.

URBANLANDSCAPES(I)

UNDERPASS

¡Underpass withacityabove sweatingseepage intothiscatacomb Underground awhite-tiled urinalworld echoesemptiness!

¿Shouldthesewalls beheapedwiththebones ofmartyredcommuters ingrinningrows

Ifourcar stalledtoadeadstop revealingthehorror ofthisotherlife?

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(I)

SUMMER‘66

Theworldisgreen. Aroundmelikeaframe Theseasonflames

Inpointsofgreenfire. TheworldlivesoutaSeuratsummer

Inthechangingpatternsoftheblowntrees. Thesunisgone. Nowanother Still-lifewaitsontheverandah. Thebreeze Plucksatthewires

Ofthetelevisionaerial.

Orpheusstrumsanelectriclyre. Thegeraniumsstandstiffandbright Intheirpots. Thesweet-peasclimb.

Thebuddingroselooksfrailandtame Butswingsassturdyasabell

Inthewind;itsmauveandgold Catchesthelight Andshines.

Onaredrooftheblack-birdshopandsing.

Standinginthedoorwayofmycell WhereIhavespentalifetime,moreorless, Inemptiness Andbittercoldconfusion. IamtoomadorelseIamtoosane.

Inmychestmyheartswings Likeapendulum. Mybrain Hurtsmyhead. Myeyeballssink Deeperintheirsocketseveryday. Istherenootherway Todiebutslowlylikethis.

Ithink

Attwenty-seven

ThesoulshouldbealittlenearerHeaven; Notstucklikethisinthemuckofmylife.

IthoughtIsawthingsclearly Andwell. AsIoutgrew Eachillusion

Istampeditunderfootandlet Itdie. Andyet Why

HaveInotoutgrownthisturbulenceandstrife?

Framednowinthedoorway,aStill-Life PaintedbyaMaster: Icanseewell ThatitisaportraitofamaninHell.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(II)

ASNAPSHOTOFMYFATHER

Theflashbulbisolatesthemfromthegloom ofthesurroundingbeach. Myfather’shand restsonthemarlin’sfin. Acrosstheyears, myfather,youngerthanIknewhim,smiles.

Alive,withthatdeadfish,hishiddenglance seemstocontainthecertaintythatI, unbornyetfortwomonths,shall,withhimdead, findthisoldphoto. Isthatwhyhesmiles?

Father,Ineverknewyou. Myincrease mirroredtheincidentofyourdecline: ReachingthebeachIfoundthatyouweregone.

Wemeetthough,here. Thisfadingno-man’s-land unitesuswithitsage,yourage,myage. Toolate,weknoweachother,andyousmile.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(I)

NightfellorshouldIsay dayfellwiththevoiceofMozart singingjoyfullyorshouldIsay noisilyinthebackgroundorshouldIsay theforegroundtomysoulorshouldIsay mysoul.

RECOVEREDJOY

Ihaverecoveredjoy

Inadismalcloudysky

Inaceilinglowandgrey Ihavediscoveredwhy

Ihaveuncovereddeath Aclock’schillmorningchime Thedarksilencebetweenbreath Comeinathinstraightline

Ihaveseeninthevoid

Asingleunbelievablestar StaringatmeIhaveheard Itsvoicelikealancingspear

Ihavefeltsilences Surroundmewiththeirnoise

Inthetactileemptiness Ihaverecoveredjoy

URBANLANDSCAPES(II)

Thetinychild,frail,indiscreet, onthecurb,tearful, Knowsthereisnothinggoodorsweet tomakehimcheerful, Seeingthefuture,violent,bleak, stretchinginruin, Cryingthereonthecrowdedstreet, knowswhathe’sdoing.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(III)

ShallIsayIlookedtotheStarinthesky ThatluredtheWiseMentoBethlehem, ButthedawnofTruth,dazzlingmyeye, Washeditoutofmyheartinpain?

OrshallIsaythattheStarwasahint OftheblindinglightoftheTruthtocome, Thatdawnaccomplishedtheshimmeringglint AndthatGod’sfullfacewastheblazingsun?

Ishallsaythemboth,asthePoetcan Consciouslyaffirm,consciouslydeny: (Secretion,duel-luck,temper,withoutplan

Tempthim.) Asallpoetryisalie, ThePoetmust-neverquitebeingamanBesatisfiedtohopeandwaitanddie.

THEFIVEAGESOFMAN

Therewasagardenonce,thepoetssay, Wheregodsandmenlivedhappilysublime, Neithertoohotnorcold,butalwaysMay, Alwaysthebestofday; Butthatwaslongago,andinourtime Thegardenseemsagod-forsakenplace Inhabitedbywolvesandgruntingswine Who,allbutlosttograce, Restbetweenrutsastheybeholdadistantface.

Therewasadarkwoodonce,thepoetstell, Whereman,thoughlosttoGod,couldfindagain Hissoul,ifhewouldtraveldowntoHell, Fromwheremankindfirstfell, Andstandupontheparchedandburningplain; Butnowthathellseemshereonearth,weare Trappedbyindifference,worsethananypain, Andhavingcomethisfar, Wherecanwefindtheguidetotakeustoastar.

Therewasagreatcauseonce,thepoetssing Ofstrongbelief,ofpassionforthetruth, OffightingfortheirGodorfortheirKing, Oralmostanything; Andancientsseemedtohavetheglowofyouth. ButnowtowardswhatIdealsdowestrive:

LookHomeward,Angel,please,weneedyourruth; Theworldisscarcealive

Anddyingslowlyonlyonitsdeathdoesthrive.

Thereoncewasafinedespair,thepoetstold Howmanwasjustanaccidentofchance, Ofsoullessatoms,meaninglesslyold; Andmanfeltboldandcold Andjoinedhandsintheexistentialdance Gladtohavecontactwithhisfellowmatter. Butmeaningseemedtocreepintothedance, Theheadupontheplatter, Andhopelessnessitselfbecameofnogreatmatter.

Thereisatimewhenpoetswhostillcare Willstopthedanceandmakethemusiccease Andstandinsilencetilltheworldisbare, Recapturingdespair, And,cultivatinghopelesspointlesspeace, Holdalofttheirheart,theirblood,theirflesh,theirwhole Body,liketheHostheldbyaruinedpriest Mindlessofanygoal Saveformingatriangleapexedbythesoul.

MEDIAMAN

WhatcanIdo: Icannotdo whatIcannot. WhatcanIsay: rhetorictrips meup-Iknow itistoofast. Manwasnotmade fortheagony ofthewholeworld; butstillitcomes andhemustswallow itatonegulp. Manwasnotmeant forpainatan universal level. Itis toosoonforthat.

Sufferingfor himself,hisfriends andfamily, andthebeggar whopasseshim onthehighway issufficient, atpresent,to fulfilhisneedsandthebeggars! Itisenough. Andmoreismore thanhecanstand perhaps. Itis toomuch. Itis inhisliving-room tooquickly afterthedeed. Thereisnotime forhimtosay: Ithaspassednow. Thereisnotime forhimtothink itout. Itgoes shootingthroughhim likeabullet, aflashofpain, anditsinksaway andislost;but tonopurpose. -Imustpray,both forVerwoerdand hisassassin-

NightlyKingHerod walkstheair-waves. Theinnocent areslaughteredby histenmillion televisionsets.

Doesoneescape? Theairisfilled withdyingcries.

Therearenomorechildren. Idwellinthe centreofthe greyscreen:asmall glimmeroflight, electrical orotherwise, likeabubble atthecentre ofanice-cube. Immobilised, Iamfrozen bytheworld’sgrief.

THEDEATHOFPETRUSHKA

Acrysoundedonthepath. Thestallsclosed. Thecrowddispersed. Aflutter,liketheflutterofbirds, Oroftheheart,orlikethequick,small Pulsingflutterofsex. Stuffing Oozedfromthebreach. Sawdust

Tosawdust,ragstorags. TheMoorhadlainhimlow Anddisappearedintolife Withhisbrightstrumpet. Thus Helay,abusedsoanddying Onthefair-ground. Thushedied, Anddyinglefthismortalrags

Toshriekafinalcurseathiscreator, Tosemaphorehishateabovethepaintedboothes Anddieagain,hisswingingghost Forgettingitsownmortalpuppetsoul

EXEQUIES(II)

THEDEATHOFTOMMYSIMPSON

ICyclewheelsturn, bytheirverynature, slowlytoastop somewhereintime:

Apointisreached, thelastrevolution iscomplete,and theheelbreaksback; fullatonce ofslippingagony, andstill andpeacefulandlonely.

Acoldwhitehand, sculptured,Venetian, holdsthewheel betweenthumbandforefinger: Grave,benedictory, itblessesthewheel thatmuststop, blessestheheel, blessesthewhole lovely,unworthy, sublime flashofhumanity.

FORTOMMYSIMPSON

PoorTommy, Yourcycleiscomplete, Youpassed FromEnglandtoFrance, Fromhome Tolonelinessabroad, Thenhome Abroad,success, Andnow Backhomeagain Atlast, ToEngland Andloneliness.

MYTHOLOGIES(II)

CHILDRENOFTHEAGE

Wecametoourselvesinthebathtub Wewokewiththewaterallround Ourchinsjustabovethesurface Andourfeetbarelyreachingtheground Wesplashedandwewallowedandstruggled Ourbodieswereslipperyandbare

Whenyouwereachildoftheatom AndIwasachildofdespair

Wecamefromaworldofthespirit

Wewoketoaworldofthesense Whenwesawthechaosaroundus Wetriedtomakesomesense Butjustpasttheageofreason Theworldsseemedtomeltandlosetheirs

Whenyouwereachildoftheatom AndIwasachildofdespair

Nakedwecametoadesert

Thesandmovedbeneathourfeet Ceaselesslyslidingandshifting Noiselesslycoveringourfeet Wedancedinslow-motionasand-dance Thewindmovedyourslow-movinghair Whenyouwereachildoftheatom AndIwasachildofdespair

Wecrawledtoacaveinthemountains Youcrouchedtheresobbingandblind Iclamberedontopofyoushuddering Stuffingyoufrombehind Andlateryouposedbytheentrance Forthelewdgraffitithatweleftthere Whenyouwereachildoftheatom AndIwasachildofdespair

Wedraggedourselvesdowntotheocean

Liketadpolesweslippedouttosea Irecognisedyouattheinstant

Whenyouceasedtorecogniseme Lostfarfromlandandeachother Thereforalltimetodeclare Thatyouwereachildoftheatom AndIwasachildofdespair

EXEQUIES(III)

FORTONYDORNAN

(2-VIII-1948/2-VIII-1967)

Poorlittleboy nowhe’llnevergrowold, he’llneverlieinbed withhisfeetallcold; buthe’llneverwakeup withastartofsurprise tofeelthesunglittering inhiseyes.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(III)

(ONSEEINGWAGNER’S‘RINGCYCLE’ATCOVENTGARDEN)

Thoughhelieunderground andrestlessravensbrood uponhisgrave,thesound thatfilledhislivinghead nowswellstheGarden’sround skull,whereheisnotdead, whereSolti’shandsthatlift hispresenceinthedark assurelyasapriest’s rekindlethegreatwork thatwashisbody,there amidanalteredmultitude, stillunifyingtheminitsdespair andhope,stillfindingintheirgreed andself-destructionaspare vanishingpointofgood thatridesthegreatcatastrophe, anunbornParsifal, whobythesimplebendingofknee cantriumphoverHell.

IfIcouldwriteapoem asbeautifulasYeats, thatwouldstandonitsown, alighthouseinthestraits oftime,Ineedonlyask tokissthebeamasleep andleavetheyearsthetask whichonlytheycankeep, thatinsomefutureage, staringintothedeep inhopelessbitterrage, agrandsonofmysoul mayfindthegutteredflame andbringthepoembackwhole intohisteemingbrain, maybringitbackandbreak hisheartstillwithitspain, bykissingitawake andletmeliveagain.

ADREAMINWINTER

Leaves,lightaswind,hanginthequietair andhoverliketinybrownhelicopters beforespirallingtotheground.

Theypileinheaps andaresilent.

Theleaves,lightaswind, arestirredbyabreezeintheirsmallbrownheaps. Theyspiralroundthefeetofthechildreninthepark. Theparkisemptyexceptforthechildren. Red-faced,wrappedinwintercoats,theyplayintheleaves, creatingtheirownsuddenevanescentwindwiththegusts oftheirvitality.

Theleaves,liftedbythistransientbreeze, swarmroundthechildrenasiftojointheirplay.

Oneoldmansitsaloneonaparkbench. Itislikethegardenseathesatonyearsago whenhewaslittlemorethanaboy

Heremembers theseat,andthegarden. Heremembersthedresses ofthelittlegirlswhoplayedaroundhimthen. Itwassummer.

Thetreesweregreenandthelittlegirls’limbs werebathedinsunlight. Onelittlegirl,inparticular, heremembers.

Thedeadleavesblowinhisface.

Thechildrenlaugh,red-faced,astheyplay

Hedrawshiscoat aroundhim,likethepast. Thesunshinesmomentarily andgoesoutbehindacloud. Thedeadleavespile athisfeet.

Thelittlegirlsitsonhislapinthesunshine. Hedoesnotmeanittohappen. Thethingmoveswith theheatofhersitting. Shejumpsupanddownexcitedly asitgrows. Whenitisover,shedoesnotevenknow,perhaps, thatanythinghashappened. Sheskipsaway,laughing. He sitssilently,blushingwiththeboy-shameofhiswetcrotch.

Hewakes. Theparkisgrowndarker. Thechildrenplay atadistance. Vague,shadowyparentstakethemhome. Heisalone.

Hishandfumbles. Hefeelsalittlelife inthedeadleavesofhistesticles,alittlewarmthinhisgroin. Theleaveshoverintheairliketinybrownhelicopters. Theyplayroundthefeetoftheoldmanlikechildren. Heremembersthedressofthelittlegirl. Itiswinter

ENDYMION

In thegladtouched bythepassingmoon hisfleshwakensmomentarily losinginnocence hegainshis birth

He issleeping hisdreamisadream ofcrystaltranslucentpurity whenIkissedhimhe stirredandlay still When hebeggedme inhisshatteredyouth Igrantedhimimmortality nursinginnocence eternal sleep

I knewnothing mydreamundisturbed butoncetouchedbyhereternity acceptingnothing lessImust dream

thiswoodthishurtthisslowdeathandthiscrucifixion theydidnottellmethatitwouldbesohard torealisethatit’s allcometothis

thisbodyofminehasgrownintothewood ableedingtrunkofresin myveinsstiffenmyfleshacrustofbark mybackdraggedbackovertheseveredtree jointsunsocketedmybodyOGodmybody thathaslovedandbeenlovedsowell hascometothis mockeryofabody Iworshipped thefirmfleshofmyyouth

howmanyhands rosewarmonmybreathing

howmanytookthepath

myownfirsttookdiscoveringforthemselves eachcountrymyexploringhandshadvisited leapintheirhandswithunconsciousdelight howmanybodiessweatedundermysweatingforce mybackarchedbackinoverarchingsilence tautasabowstringvibratingintolife thearrowspentinitswelcomingtarget woodtowoodjoinedtheflowingsap fasteningthelivebranchtothemotheringtree whereIhangOGodOGodthesememories stillfeedmyfleshIfeelacoiling wherenohandcouldreach nowtheclothhangs looseaboutmygroinandlowandmoveswithme

andOmyGodifitshoulddropandleavemebare orifthebulgingheadshouldpushpastthetopandrisethere inonelastmockeryofstreaminglustandnakedness whileromansoldiersmockatmeinmydistress baredtothesoulofpumpingquiveringflesh paredbytheknifeoftheirlaughtershiveringagain likethattimethoseshoutingboysprancedaroundmein thegrimeofthestreetmypantswavingabovetheirheads mycircumcisionglintinginthesunoftheirjeering theireye-beamsstirringthefirstmovementsofmysinning repeatedinmylastlustthefirsthumiliation OhhhhhhthankyouGodforthispainthisspeedyend thisclimaxpassedunnoticedinaspasmofdeath thattricklesdownmylegswiththemuckandtheblood themillingcrowddonotlookupdonotknow thankyouGodforsparingmethislasthumiliation itwillneverriseagaindeathwillrisefirst tostiffenmealloverandnowitlies softandwarmandplumpasawormagainstmyleg snuggledlikeababylyingonmychest tiredafterwardsandsleepingscarcelybreathingO GodOGoddoesmysinningdeservesuchpeace

thisdarkthispainthissilenceandthisdeaddirection mythoughtstakeonthenarrowingpathtonothingspared nothingandatmywits deadenddeathless

M M M O M M O M M O M M H M A H M A H M A A M A A M A M

thespringisburstinginthetreeandI hanghereonthisdeadcrossofwoodburstingtheseams ofmybodyinafloweringofbloodyleaves

Hestillhangstherebesidemepassiveandstill isHedeadalreadynoHisbellystillbeats gentlyHehassufferedmuchofpainandhumiliation HeshuddersinthesunasifthebeamshurtHim HeharmednooneyettheytreatHimworsethanus Hisbodyreekswithbadfleshgobsofdryingspittle hangfromHiswoundsthethornsroundHisheadoozeblood HiseyesareblackandswollenonemanpissedatHim ComingupthehillawomanlaughedtoseeHispain andHedidnothingapoorcrazyfanatic whoharmednoonesotheysaidandHeendsup herewithusGodI’mgladIhavebeenwicked whenIseeHimgoodanddyingwithushere Iamgladofeverytheftandfornication andblasphemyGodyouhypocriteYouunjustswine goodandbadendrottingtogetherunderYoursun andwilllietogetherforeverundertheearth YoufuckedintolifewhyGodwhy maketheguiltyandinnocentdietogetherinthesameagony strangemercypreparingusforthedeathofthebody byslicingoffthetendereightdayforeskin thechildshouldcryfromthenuntildeath continuouslynobeforethat(rightatbirth thebloodycarnagestartsandendsherebleedingagain morecruellyjoinedtoanewdeadmother)

andafterthisperhapsthepaindoesn’tendhere

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(V)

Christisaflower

Iamatree.

Christwascrucifieduponme.

AlthoughChrististhebeginning Andtheend

Ineedahumanfriend.

Christwaswhollyman AsIam.

Christwaspureandfree; Myprickwon’tletmebe.

Ineedconciliationandpeace. Christ,letthisturmoilcease.

IcannotgotoMass. IlettheCuppass.

YetMasscomestome: Christ’ssacrificeeternally

Eternity Frightensme.

Theboredomofexistingforever Freedofendeavour.

-Eternityisnotlikethat-

Iknow,Christ,Iknow. IwanttomeetEdgarPoe AndBaudelaire

InthepetalsofYoureternalflower.

Christisaflower

Iamatree.

Christwascrucifieduponme.

EXEQUIES(IV)

Duringthedissection

Jamielostallofhishumanity Fromthemomenttheknife

cutintomeat hewasonlyanobject. Momentbymomenttheknife revealedthemiraculousuniverse thathadbeeninsidehim.

Undertheflayedchest

whiteribscurveddown, vaulted,gothic,acathedral: Thenavelopenedontoarednave; hisbowels theorganpipes, empty,silent,meaninglessindisuse.

Skinflaps werepeeledbackfromhisthighs likepetals.

(Hisballsremovedlikecogs, hispenis sliceduplikeabreakfastsausage.)

Hewasanancienttomb justdiscovered byarchaeologists.

Theglowingredorgans wereliftedfromhim asfromajewel-boxoftreasures.

Hisglands madetodecorate thenecksofqueens.

Thesheenofhiskidneys luminous asthebrushstrokesofWatteau.

Thenetworkofveins readyfortheshoulders ofsomelong-deadmaja.

Theytookhisheart likearose, andthegreatchest, thathadbeenlikeachurch, orajewelledAztecgrave robbedbyconquistadors, wasemptynow andsilent asthetombofagod.

EXEQUIES(V)

CZECHOSLOVAKIA (I) 1968

Yourmartyredbodyispaintedontime.

Paintedbloodrunsfromtheholeswherethenailshavebeen,fromthestonesonyour head,fromthearrowsshotdeepintoyourlegsandbreast.

Apaintednimbusoflightilluminatesyourface.

Thecountriesoftheworld,likepaintedgrievingsaints,standhelplesslyabout.

Thepaintedexecutionersdonotknowwhattheydo.

Youaredead,paintedlyinginthetomb.

Itisstillthefirstday

IfChristhadcometoearthasstonesandwoodsandfieldsandtreesinsteadofasaman, Hewouldhavecometoearthasyou.

(II)

DEATH-MASK

Iwasnotastudentorapolitician. IworkedatabreweryinPilsen. Fortwenty-fouryearsIhadspunmylifeincircleslikeaspider Hereandthereitcaughtthelightbutitseemedtoleadtonocentre. Iwastryingtodrawsomethingoutofmybodybutcouldnotsayexactlywhat.

Whentheycameadreadfulhopelessnesspossessedme. Myarmsandlegsstillmovedatmywork. Istillmaintainedsomeunity. Butthewebofmylifewascaughtinmythroat.

ThenwhenyouranflamingthroughPragueIsawthatfrommybirththewebhadbeenleading meincirclestowardsacentre: NotfromPilsentoWenceslasSquareasthecentreofPrague;nottoPragueasthecentreofmy country; ButtoyouasthecentreoftheholocaustthatIwastobecome.

PerhapsifIhadseenmyselfasarawpieceofmeat,morepreythanspider,quiveringatthe centreofablazingweb,Iwouldnothavelitthematch. Idonotknow. AllIdoknowisthatasthepetrolignitedandtheflameslickedaroundme Isawhim. Andhetookmyhand. Andhedrewmyburningheaddownontohisshoulder And hesmiledatme.

SKETCHESAFTERWATTEAU

- hestretchedoutontheroughgrass,hisrifleandbayonetbyhisside,archinghisbackslightly andwrigglingtofithisbodyintothecontoursoftheearth-

- hewasnotasoldier-

- hewasnotaFrenchman-

- hehadneverkilledaRussianoranAustrianoranItalian-

- hewasaboy,inaforeigncountry,bivouackedunderadepthlessbluesky,hisredandwhite uniformedbodyoneofmanyrecliningfiguresdottedontheundulatinggreenfield-

- helayonhisback,histwohandspillowedunderhishead,staringupatthesky-

- helayonhisside,histwohandspillowedunderhischeek,hiseyesclosed,perhapsasleep, mouthslightlyopen,kneesdrawnup,breechescrumpled-

- helayonhisstomach,armsstretchedout,handssoftlyholdingthegrass,thebackofhis uniformfleckedwithgrass-particlesanddirt,thecoatbackrelaxedintocreases-

- helayonhisleftside,hisrightlegthrownovertheleft,hisleftarmoutofsightsomewhere beneathhim,therighthandthrustdownbetweenhislegs,thebackofhiscoatstretchedsmooth acrosshisshoulder-bladesandthesoftundulations,thehighlightsandshadows,ofhisbody-

- helayasleep,spread-eagledonhisback,palmsupward,hiscoatfallenopen,atriangleof lightlytannedfleshgentlyrisingandfallingbetweenthewaistbandofhisbreechesandhis crumpledshirttails’dividedcentre,pulledupandopenashestretched-

MYTHOLOGIES(IV)

ORPHEUS

Wedgedbetweenrocksonthedesolateshore

Hisemptythroatspokewiththetongueofgods Hisvoicethatlivingcharmedaworldofstones Nowprophesiedtomanthathemustdie

Livinglovecameandtookawayhisheart Andsongsunheardbymenbeforeweresung Butdeathwouldnotbemockedandtookhislove Andlefthimheartformortalthingsalone

Returningfromthedepthsoftheabyss

Heturninglookedintohisowngrimeyes Andcallingsawhimselfstepbackandgo

Andafterthathewanderedasthewinds Scatteredhisfleshandburiedwhatwasleft Hisstonyvoiceechoingonthewaves

EXEQUIES(VI)- ARTISTS (i)

LEKEU (i)

Thisisadayfordying. Deadwinter. Bitterwind. Rainlyingonrooftops Alittleearlysun Butgreythroughtheafternoon Untilevening. MonsieurLekeu,sitting Byhisson’sbed,watching Lifesinkaway,watching Thatpreciouschildhood Andyouthunravelitself Imperceptibly-yesterday Twenty-four,tomorrow Nothing-knowing Deaththroughhisson’s Frailhand,knowing Itwasadayfordying.

(ii) dying attwenty-four washe ishenomore thanamemory ofunfulfilledspring fruitunripening hoar-frostblighted orwithus inpianoandviolin abouttobegin themasterpiece alwaysapossibility inhiseternalspring

MYTHOLOGIES(V)

HYACINTHUS

Bloodtricklesfromhisforehead: Aredrootholdinghimtotheground.

Thediscusliesnearby, Innocentinitsimmobility

BoreasandZephyrus,regretfulalmost Beforetheblowhadstruck,whineoverhead.

Apollomournssilently

Thebeautifulboyhasbecomeearth. Hisdeadfaceisalreadyaflower

DAEDALUSINCUMAE

EurydiceturnsandsinkstoHell; Polluxforhisbrotherdailydies; Daedalusthecraftsmanmakesthewings Wherewithhisonlyson,allheedless,flies...

Icarus,hiswingsdroppedbacktoearth, Fliesupward,naked,goldeninthesun, SkimslikeafishthroughZephyrus'blownhair, Hiesontowardthebright-eyedHolyOne...

StandingonOlympus'sacredheights Zeuswatchesastheglowingboydrawsnear, Observestheslimyounglimbs,thefragilechest, Thebodythathisfatherheldsodear...

Daedalus,inCumae,fromthemaze Escaped,mournssilentlyforhislostson; Kneelingheaskswhyhewasnottheone Whofelltoearth,toZeusheferventprays:

«AlmightyGod,beFathertomyson, Accepthimandforgivehisfewyoungsins, LetGlaucuscometocalmthetroubledwaves, Poseidongracetheplacewhereheplashedin;

«Asoverhimtheboomingbillowcloses Lethisstrugglinglimbsfindrestinyou; Fasteneternalwingsuntohisshoulders, Strongwings,thatcanwithstandyourholyview...

«AllthepromisesIhavenotkept!... Ihavenorighttoask...forgettingYou Inpride,ambition,man-madewingsthatflew YetLordIdoask...» AndDaedaluswept...

Icarus,kneeling,headbowed,beforeZeus, Saysnothing,dumbwithwonderandwithlove; Zeus,hearinginhismindthesighsandtears OfDaedalus'libation,standsabove

Thebeautifulboy,takinginhishand

ThemetaldiscstillchainedtoIcarus'neck: «Whocarvedthisplate,engravédwiththyname?» «Myfather,Daedalus,beforemywreck.»

«Becausethyfathermournsfortheeandweeps, Becausehelovestheemorethanhisownlife, Sunkthoughthoubebeneaththewatryfloar, BythisdiscIraisetheeuptoParadise!»

Zeusstoopingliftshimfromtheperilousflood, Fromoutthesea'slipsandthetorrentwild, Stillingthesea-greenterrorinhisblood, HoldinghimastenderlyasHisownchild!

Clutchingtohisbreasttheboythegod StraighttoOlympusflies... Unbrokenwings Vibrate,disturbthewater,andaregone... Thewreckageoftheflight,thebrokenwings,

Floatonthesurfaceforatime,thensink...

Theoceanisaspeacefulasthesky Whereoverheadtwocirclingsea-birdsfly And,circlingskyward,blur,growindistinct...

Daedalus,ontheshore,fromweepingstarts: Abird'ssleepycryinthedeepeningnight Disturbshim. Lookingupheseestheflight... Andsuddenlyhesmiles,lightofheart!

OnMountOlympusnymphssurroundtheboy, Dryinghislimbswithclothoffinestsort, Oilingtheburntskin,soothingoutthehurt Whereheflewnearthesun. Nowallisjoy

Andpeace,becauseafatherlovedhisson; AndPolluxdiedtohimself,forCastor'ssake! ThoughEurydicediestoOrpheus, ThesongshesingswillEurydicemake!

AndDaedalushasforgedametaldisc EngravédwithI.C.A.R.U.S!...

AndIhavemadeapoemoncleanwhitesheets Morelikeaprayerthananyonecouldguess:

«PrayGod,forgivethesinsofIcarus, Soothethecrushedlimbs,smoothoutthehairastray, AccepthimintoHeavenasThySon... Andalltheotherswhohavediedthisday.»

In memory of the French submarine Eurydice; lost without survivors. (March 1970)

EASTER (i) GOODFRIDAY

goingtosleep itwasmorelikedying whenHerebukedus nowstandinghere watchingHimdying prayingforsleep ifwecangrasp somedimunderstanding ofHiswords we cannotunderstand theanguishofsuffering wrackingHislimbs mustwenowbe halfinlovealways withpainfuldeath seeingOurLord Hisstreamingbloodstaining thisholywood touchedbythesun brightindarkgleaming goldasaflame

EASTERSUNDAY

Joyfullythesunagainuprisingskyward Scattersdarkreflectionsonthedesertscudding Codesofbluedecipherthatthedeadaresleeping Notintombsofrockbutlaughterintheeastward

Voicedshimmervanishtellusourpathhomeward SurelywehavenotintwodaysofHisdying Drawnsuchdepthofcomfortfromourowndespairing Thatfromsleepwewillnotwakebutshrinkdrawbackward

ThinkinginHisdaylightthatweknewthelesson NowatnightwecannotfacethisResurrection Savebypeeringsideways

Ouraccustomedearthsight

Uselesswelookdownbitterwithdisappointment

Tothedesertwherebrighterthananysunlight StretchesfromHisfeettheshadowofHisvestment

AFTEREASTER

SuddenlyHewaswithus. Hisside,thetemptingwound,mytremblinghand, Thedarkabyssofblood,Hiswomb,He Toldus,rapedbymydoubt,givesbirthtofaith,and AgainHewillbewithus Suddenly

FORALESSANDROVONSPRETI

Iliketothinkofhim

Asoneoftheluckyones; Histooearlygrief Asortoftraining.

(Theformalityof“TheDance”: Watteau’sminiatureadults, Neverreallychildren Expectingaparadise,

Growingwithoutsurprise; Notevendismayed Bythescreamingofthecrowd Orthewaitingguillotine.)

Aswearedraggedintothesun, Blindfolded,whimpering,crying, Waitingforthebullet Hisfather’sdeathpredicted,

Iliketothinkofhim, Standing,handstiedattheback, DetachedasSt.Sebastian Afterhislongpreparation.

FOURMEN

PROGRAMMEFORASYMPHONY

I

FirstMovement DonMcCullininCambodia II SecondMovement EdwardMorganForsteratCambridge III ThirdMovement IainCloughonAnnapurna IV FourthMovement CamiloTorresRestrepoofColombia

Bandages swaithemyshatteredlegs

Thesheetiscoolonmychest

Everythingiswhitenow

Aredmemorypersists Suddenly consciousnessbecamechaos shrapnelsounded inmylegs thepainflashedforaninstant andwentblack

Awhitesheethidesthedamage thatwasme

Iamanobject Oneoftheunluckyones atlast

Theyarephotographingme asanitemofinterest tothecasualviewer aestheticallysatisfying inthecontrastofsurfaces

Thesmoothwhitenessofthesheets

Thetannedexpanseofchest patternedwithdarkhair

Thebottlesofblood theloopingrubbertubes alltheparaphernalia ofthefieldhospital

Thedulleyesheavywithtoomuchpain

Iamthevictim thatisall

Itwasinevitable Acamerashutter clicksout themoments ofmylife andthistime Iaminfocus Tomorrow Ishallbelivingagain ordeadagain whileothersubjectsmove tothecentre ofthepicture

Otherhandswilloperatetheshutter

Itdoesnotmatter Thesheetiscoolonmychest

Aloneagain nowtheyhavegone amIalive withnocamera tocapture theminutesof mylife

Onlymyeyesrevealed thepainIhadsuffered

Theeyes likethelens cannotlie

Ihavetriedtobehavewell tofulfilmyobligations

Thedangerofmyprofession alwayswithmeifnotinme resolveditselfintoanenigma

LikeConstable withhisnotebook Isketchedoutscenes inthenotebookofmycamera

Thelandscapesofbattle Thenalone inthepositivedark Isoughttotransform thehorrorintobeauty Crucifixionintoart

AstheRembrandt etchinganddrypoint achievesitslast transfiguredstate inthehighlightsandshadows ofthefinalpicture

Itriedtocapture theaestheticofviolentdeath

Ihavetravelledwithitforyears

Nowithasvisitedme briefly andwithdrawnagain

Itiswaiting atadistance bythefootofmybed justbeyondmyfieldofvision outoffocus

EachphotographItake willbringitbacktome clearandsharp

Ihaveseenitandrecognisedit

Oneday itwillcomeagain andclaimmeforitsown

PerhapsinsomeunknownMay Oreventomorrow

Buthavinglivedwithit forsolong nowithasvisitedme IknowIcanacceptit

Whatevermyeyesmayhaveshown mybodyhaslearnedtoaccept

Thecrystalplasma hangsaboveme feedingintomyarm thelifethatseepsout ofmylegs

Thesheetsarestained coveringmywounds atmychest theyarecoolandwhite

Thepainwillneverstop

JesusJesus allthesufferingIhavewitnessed inmylifetimeofmoments allthepainandthedeath inthestillcalmnewspaperprints Icanrecorditall everyblindatrocity canneveralleviateanyofit NothingNothing

Therewasaday whenthesunshone whentheskywasblue thenawind carryingclouds ruffledtheempty grass-slope toadifferenttexture inthemoving shadowsatmyfeet layadrownedfledgling bonyandfragile itsfeathersstillwet withthenight’srain

Thepainwillstop whenIsleep

Inthesecoolwhitesheets oblivion takesonemoreprint frommynegative andfixesit

Thereddreamisover

White bandages covermyeyes

Sleep creepsoverme

Therealhorrorcanbegin

Acleanwhitesheet liesbeforemeonthedesk

Acleanwhitesheet

Icannotwrite Theyvisitme theyoungofthreegenerations thosewhoadmireme usuallyadmireme forthewrongreasons buttheyvisitme andwetalk inthesoftCambridgetwilight

Whentheyaskme whyIneverwroteanothernovel Ianswerthemobliquely Itellthemtoreadtheessays thepoliticalessays andtheintroductions

Seeingtheimpossibilityofartisticdevelopment Ispeakoftheimportanceofachievement theirrelevanceofadvanceordecline

DoIknowtheanswermyself

Therewasamountainaheadofme amountainIcouldnotfindmywayover coulddiscernnopathwayaround discovernopassageacross

ThehopedforArcticSummerdidnotcome

Myheartsankinsilence

Whentheyleaveme

Isitalone withtheemptysheetbeforeme andwatchthenight fillingthepage

Devilsareofthenorth andpoemscanbewrittenaboutthem

Novelscanbewrittenaboutthem

Itispeaceful inthissecularretreat

OccasionallyIcanevenforget

ThethingsforwhichIamadmired thethingsIhavesooftensaid theliberalidealsIhavepropounded areonlythethingsthatall civilisedmenmustfeel thereisnothingsingularaboutthem

Ihavesaidthem thatisall

Yettheyreveremeasan infinitelywiseoldman

Theydonotseethecul-de-sac

Cambridge onadelightfullywarm afternoon

Thepageremainsempty Ishouldnothavewrittenthatword

Ishouldhaveknown whatMahlerknew shouldhaveunderstood whathisrescoring ofthesixthsymphony tellsme

Threeblowsoffatearetragic andmusiccanbewrittenaboutthem

Novelscanbewrittenaboutthem

Butwhatwasthereleft formetosay after boum

Seeingsomethingvaguely beyondtheechooftheancientearth Iwasunabletosay exactlywhat Couldnotfindmywaypastthatdeadsound the boum aliveinthedarkCambridgenight the boum stillwalkingthetownstreetsatmidday the boum inthequestionsinthestudents’eyes

Iwouldnotlie IwroteofthedarknessthatIsaw Yetnotbetrayingmyfriends didI betrayperhapsmyself didI

betraytheechoofthe boum reverberatingstill inthecavesofmyskull whereitcanneverescape

Notontoanypaper

DidIbetraythepaleyoungsonofMrs.Moore

Thecleanwhitesheet liesbeforemeonthedesk

Night hasalmostcoveredit

Theunwrittencornerremains unwritten

Noflame entersmypen compellingittowrite lightingthepage

IhavedonealltheyIcoulddo goneasfarasIcouldgo

Icannotdomore

Mysoulisinthebalance

Mylifewasoflittleimportance soIhazardedmysoul

Ihaveputmysoulatrisk

Nowthedarkishere thenightisuponme

AndIshallknow

Climbingontomyfirstwall asachild

IknewthatIshoulddie somewherehighupinthemountains

Thisdistantgrave thislonelysortofpeace wasalreadythere invisibly intherocksIclamberedover Tripping grazingmyknees runningcrying hometomymother tobecomforted notknowing Ihadstumbledover myowngrave

Thewindsblowhighaboveme whistlingonthemountainsatnight singingtomysoulinawildhighlanguage

Carryindistinguishablewords fromtheflappingcottonprayer-flags ofthevillagesbelow thatmutterinthedarknessaroundme astheyjourneyon tothedistantpeaks andthestrangegodsoftheirdestination

Thesnowliesalwaysontheslope asoftwhitesheet thatwillneverbetrampledintomud

Thestonesarepiledonme

Asinglecross Fewpeoplepass Wreathsofblue mountainflowers wither inthesharpmorningair

This ishowIwantedit orrather howIalwaysknewthatitwouldbe lyinghereatpeace withthesoulsofthemountaindead highhigh farfromthemurmuringcrowd whoshiverincities huddledatthefootofeverycliff countingouttheminutesoftheirlives afraidoflandslide ofrockfalloravalanche

Afraidofevery ActofGod

Feardrovemetothemountains

Thefeartwistingtheirlife-sickfaces

Thefearinmymother’seyes asshecalledtometocomedown

Beggingmenottogoanyhigher Yorkshire becametooconstricting evenhighinthemountains tooneartheground

InScotland

themostchallengingclimbs grewmellowerwiththeyears lesssatisfactory

Thefacesofthepeoplewereunhappyandtight

Onlyonthemountains lookingdownattheearth asfromOlympus’heights mankindappearedtobe softerandhappier lessafraid

Themenstridinggod-likebesideme seemedtoopenoutasweclimbed theirfacesgrewbroaderandclearer theireyesreflectedthesnowandthesky

Evenbackintheworld theireyesretainedsomeglance somerecognisabledistance aglacialfreedom

Ichosethisdeath whenIchosethislife Ichosethiswildsinginggrave

Thestreetsofthetownwereheavywithslush Itrampedinthemuddyfootprintsofothers followingthecharteredstreets squelchinginthedisfiguredsnow rememberingpurewhiteness

Theroadbecameapath andthenatrack andfinallydisappearedaltogether Theslopegrewsteeper

Foothills turnedslowlytomountains grassvanished amidbrokenstones patchesofsnowformedbetweentherocks

Whiteuntroddensnow thatwillneverbetrampledintomud

Theairbecamethinandsharp Somethingcalledtomefromabove

Istrainedmyneck lookingup tryingtosee Climbinghandoverhand feelingcarefullyforeachsecurefoothold

IthoughtofeverystepthatIhadtaken inmylifetimeofmountains howeachhadreallybeenthelastone yetsomehowthefirst

Iclosedmyeyes

Alltheblindingpeakswerethere rangedbeforeme theclimbed theunclimbed thenever-to-beclimbed Ihadconqueredthemall intheshuttingofaneyelid

Themurmuringbelowhadceased

Thewindwassinginginmyears

Thevoicefromabove calling hadbecomeclearer

ForthefirsttimeIcouldhear somethingIhadhalf-heardallmylife

Themountainitselfwastalkingtome

WhenIfell withtheavalanche Iwasonceagainalittleboy kneesgrazed whowouldpickhimselfup andruncrying hometohismother

Tobecomforted

Wheremybodylaybleeding doesnotmatter ifanepitaphwaswritten isoflittleimportance myburialplace immaterial

MybodyisoftheearthofSouthAmerica

Iamcarriedonthesilkofspiders mysoultravelslikeanundergroundstream toeverycorneroftheland

Allinjustice allevilandcorruption feelingitshakingbeneaththeirfeet willtremble knowingitmustspring fromthecracksintheearth likeafountaininthedesert

Therecanbenolookingback

Mylifewassimple uncomplicated mydeathinitself equallyso

Together theyrumble likedistantthunder cannotbeforgotten onlyoccasionallyignored mustonedaybreak sweepingtheearthinaviolentstorm directlyoverhead

Thehouseofthesunhasbeenopened hugeblackbirds carryforththelight

Mylifeanddeath wereunexceptional manymenhavetravelled thesamepathbeforeme eachofuscanonly testifytothetruth

ThetruthofourGethsemane

TheDevilwhenhecame camewithnogreatmiracles whisperingofdeath inthedesertoftheself

Icouldturnnostonestobread couldnotsavemyself norruletheearthinglory

Butinmymomentofagony whenthewholeworldseemedasleep unabletokeepvigilbesideme

Iprayedonlythatthecupmightpass

Hisprayermineatlast

Andacceptingitfreely rosefromtheground inthatfirstaction alreadycrucified

AsJesus achildinthetemple aboutHisFather’sbusiness wasalreadycrucified

Afterwards itwaseasy theactofdying oncebegun movingintotalsurrender untiltheconsummatedgesture

Historycannotfalsifyanimage

Iwascrucifiedinthejungle likeGuevara withChristbesideme

EventheChurchitselftrembled

Thedeathofthebody asmallsacrifice manymenhaveoffered theirliveswithoutChrist withChristmyforfeit therewaslittlemerit

Mysoul Ihadgrownusedtorisking inthehazards ofmyvocation When suddenly inthenight alightshoneonmyface betweentheleavesoftheblowingbranches andIknew thatamancanonlylive riskingbodyandsoul both ineverymovement everygesture everymomentofhislife

Onlyinthiscanthedarknessbeaverted

Evenmymother crying seemedfaraway

Idiedforthefuture

Manymenhavedied fortheoldorder reconciledintheflesh

Itisjoyfultodie forthelifeoftheworld thatmustcome

Forthosepeoplewho tremblingonthebrink aregiventheGracetodrink bymydeath

Fortheunborngrandchildren

Iftheyfindmygrave insomefutureage theywillnotfindthedebris ofmymortalbody

MybodyIbequeathedtotheearth

Theywilldiscoveronly thecleanwhitesheet thathadbeenmyshroud soakedwiththebloodofmywounds stainedwiththeearthofmycountry

Ifawind billowsitintotheair letitbethemortalflag notofanyearthlynation butemblemofourcommonimmortality

Ifitisvenerated byaworld rejectingtheviolence ofitsown unspeakableconception rememberingthatallbirth involvesterrorandblood letitconciliate humanity initsseamless redandblackfolds

Ifitisfound

RemembertheTombwasempty Andthatmylifewasnotlost

EXEQUIES(IX)

ASUMMERGAME

Whenageandcoldhavemadeuslame

OurheartsarefulloflostgreenMay Forcricketisasummergame

Thedaysgrowlongandboysdisdain Tothinkuponthatfaroffday Whenageandcoldhavemadeuslame

Insummerwecantakeaplane Tosomewarmclimatewheretheyplay Forcricketisasummergame

Knowingatlasttheymustrefrain Joiningouraliendisplay Whenageandcoldhavemadeuslame

Theshadowslengtheninthelane

Theflannelspressedandputaway Forcricketisasummergame

Anothersport! Another’sfame! We’llstrikethestumpsatcloseofplay Whenageandcoldhavemadeuslame Forcricketisasummergame

EXEQUIES(X)

GALATÉE

In this Monody, writtenonthesecondanniversaryoftheinvasionofCzechoslovakia,the Author bewails the six French Sailors, unfortunately killed when the submarine Galatée was rammed by the South African submarine, Maria von Reubek, sold by the French only a short time previously And by occasion foretells the ruin of the South African, theCzechoslovakian, the Greek, and all other unjust and corrupt governments then in their heights, the return of countries to their rightful rule, and expresses the hope that FranceandtheotheraffluentPowers willceasedealinginweaponsofwarandtakeupagaintheirGrandDestiny

Galatea lovedAciswellbuttheelephantsandbearsof Polyphemus weretemptingtoonesoyoung, andwhenPolyphemus’ enormouseye glitteredonthelovers itwastoolate.

ThebodyofAcis, thathadbecomepartofGalatea’s, laycrushedbeneaththerock. Symoethismourned. ButthetearsofGalatea wouldminglewiththeriver thatAcis wastobecome.

Odysseus alreadydrewnear thetriumphantPolyphemus. Brontes,Steropes,Acamas,Pyracmon, werealltopassaway. AndtheCabeiri, Hephaestus’trueheirs, wouldmine theirownland atlast.

ENVOI NEREUS

Mydaughter

Thetideisrising.

Iamold.

Acisflowsalready tomybosom.

Returnagaintome, swimminginthebillows ofyourlostlove.

Rushbackintomyarms.

FORJOCHENRINDT

Thedebris ontheMonzatrack isnotwhereIseehim; heisnot onthewinner’srostrum, garlanded,drinkingchampagne: Forme histwenty-eightyears flashintoaninstant, andheruns forthewaitinghelicopter, aracejustwon, aheadofhim thebright,triumphantfuture.

SILENCE

Thereisasilence, sometimesinart,sometimesinlife, thatisnotofthisworld: ThesilenceofPontormo’sVirgin astheangelwhispers itsunbelievablemessage; themomentofsilence aftertheflood beforethefinaltranscending ofGötterdämmerung; thesilence afterthelastchord ofMahler’sninth beforethefirsttentativeclap, theunfinished, releasingarpeggio; thesilence intheBminorMass aftertheCrucifixus, whenBachholdsus inthedepthofoblivion, bringingusfacetoface withdeath,untilthefirst joyfulEtResurrexit; theterriblesilence ofMichelangelo’sLastJudgement, theunheardblast ofthegravemaletrumpets, heraldingChrist, beyondhumanhearing.

MYTHOLOGIES(VI)

SILENUSBOUND

Mywisdomisgreat-beingborn,notfromsperm Likeameremortal,butfromthebloodofmyfather’sgroin.

Tellme,then,allthatyouknow

Iknow

Youareworried. Thattheflute,cutfromthereeds Ofalostlove,givesyounomorecomfort. Thatthepineyoudallyundergivesyounomoreshade. Thatthememoryofanight,themoonsilver Onyourwhitefleeceasyourutted,givesyounomorepleasureLeavesonlyabadtasteinthemouth.

Drunkenlout!

Theysaidyouwerewise. Youshallnotbefreed UntilIobtainsomesatisfaction Otherthanthisfacilemoralising.

Icanonlyrevealtoyouthepast,andprophesy Thefuture. Imaybeadrunkenlout: OtherwiseIshouldnotbeboundfast, Tellingyouthethingsyouwouldrathernothear ButIspeaktruly. Ihavetoldyouofthepast. Asforthefuture. Thereisnone. Foryou Orforme.

Pah!

TheGreatGodPanisdead.

Imustdiewithyou. Theywillthinkofus Inlatertimes,ifatall,asfiguresonvases, Inmarble;figmentsofhistoricalimagination.

Weareneedednolonger Thelovelyboyswhofrolicked

Atyourrites,thenymphsyieldinguptheirmaidenhood, Thesatyrswhocarousedanddrankwithme, Growtiredoftheirconstantindulgence;longfor Achastewhiteenvironment. AnewGod Waitstobeworshipped.

Artemiscannever UsurpAphrodite.

ThenewGodisboth ArtemisandAphrodite. Histimeiscome. OurvotariesdesertthePhallus. Theywillfollow AGodwhooffersHisFleshandHisBlood. Forthemthehighestjoywillbedeath. WewillberememberedasadreamoftheirchildhoodTobethoughtofpleasurablyattimes;mostly Ignored. Releasemenow. Icandonomore.

Icannotletyougo. Youaretied Forevertomycanvas. Yougrinoutatme, Irresponsible,drunken,laughingatthefuture Andatme

PeterPaulRubens.

MYTHOLOGIES(VII)

NARCISSUSDYING

Theribsbeneaththefleshshownotatall Exceptwhenbreathistaken;thentheyline

Thechestwithripplesofmortality

Theskeletoniscoyundertheskin Boxingthelungsandheart. Icannotbreathe.

Thecrabandlobstershellistothepoint, Beingnotsoswathedincomfortablemeat

Thatwewouldthinkasoulmustlivetherein.

EXEQUIES(XII)

THEDEATHOFCHARLESDEGAULLE

Anythingotherthansilence Seemsanimpertinence.

EXEQUIES(XIII)- ARTISTS (ii)

THEDEATHOFYUKIOMISHIMA

I

Myheartbecameearth. Inmybellymybowelscoiled Likethecastsofworms. Natsumiwouldunderstand Myresponsibility:

Nowwhennoraincomes Bringingdeepthingstotheair Myswordgivesrelease. II

Inthesilenceat ThefarendofthebeachI Crossthebridgetoa Smallwoodedislandapart. Orientaltreesgrowthere.

Apagodastands Likeporcelaininthesun. Iwalkthroughthegrass.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(VI)

Justasthesummerweariesofitsbreath, Thehotwildbreaththatadolescencebrings, Thereisnospringthatdoesnotendindeath.

Incipientinsentienceatbirth Weariesthechildfromitsfirstwhimperings, Justasthesummerweariesofitsbreath.

Theschoolgirl,laughing,hearsamidhermirth Thesecretblood’sincessantwhisperings; Thereisnospringthatdoesnotendindeath.

Theschoolboy,rigid,feelsinthespurtingforth Ofwarmwetsemen,potenciesdeclinings, Justasthesummerweariesofitsbreath.

Eventhehero,victoryinhismouth, Tastes‘miditssweetnessotherbitterthings Thereisnospringthatdoesnotendindeath.

Agraveyardsubstancecreepsupfromtheearth, Infectingeachmomentwithitsquestionings: Justasthesummerweariesofitsbreath, Istherenospringthatdoesnotendindeath?

ST.JOSEPH’SSONG

Nowitispast.

Theyarebothasleep. Allthevisitorshaveleft. Awake,Iamalone. Whenshetoldme Ithoughtshehadbeenunchaste. EvenwhenIunderstood Itwashardtoaccept. Now,suddenlyitiseasy. Myfleshhasfallenasleep. Whenshelanguished Virginonthestraw AndIheldGod

Inmyarms, Tiny,inneedofprotection, Iwassatisfied

Tolive,imparting Myfiniteknowledge TotheInfinite.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(VII)

THEDOPPLEREFFECT

Aquasarpulsesred attheplane’stail; togethertheymove slowlyacrossthenightsky.

Iamstill;thecentre. Horizontally theplane’sfixedcourse unwinds,barringdisaster.

Wetraveltogether asgravity’s skinbagofair holdsustotheearth.

Theplanerecedesfromview. Thedullenginehum fallsinpitch: ashifttowardsthered.

Istepoutintospace. Theearthisdistant asanystar,flashing intheblackness.

Icannotjudgedistances. Injustices advanceandrecede, turningasslowlyasplanets.

Itistheyear’slastday anditisdark. Nothingcomes. Imoveoutwardlikeastar.

Oneachpointoflight, far,uncounted, aFloristan succumbstoaPizarro.

Thereisnotrumpetcall. Allthreeareslaughtered. Pizarrorules likeaseculargod.

Nationsrecede,advance, movingasslowlyasinjustice. Somany. Ihadnotthought lifehadrepressedsomany

Releasedfromjail intheirmid-fifties harderthan thequickkindshots ofMurat’scavalry onPríncipePío; impossibletopaint theirslowdecline;

ortheexileinCuba ofthosewho limptodeath,far fromtheirbelovédQuebec.

Heroicsongsarebornof tanksinthestreet, ofsudden,bloodywars; notthetediousaftermath, thegrindingoftheyears, thesystematic repression ofhalfacontinent,half

aplanet,halfastar Spaceiscold.

Thelightsaredistant. Everythingissofar

Impossibletodetect anymotion. Yettheuniverse issilentlyexpanding.

Motionlesstogether, wearemoving towardssomething onourcapsuleofearth, thisinsignificant terminalbrightness. Igazeintodark; findapointoflight.

Theearth? Astar? Orsomethingelse? Itdoesnotmatter. Allthatdoesmatter: itsmotion relativetomine. Newtonhandsme hisfire-bornprism.

HerschelandRitter leanatmyshoulder. Mypulse beatsfaster

Thehum inmyears changesitspitch. Doesitriseorfall?

Colours

burstfromtheprism acrossmyface: theDopplershift fromviolettored? orfromred toviolet?

Icannottell.

Thespectrumblurs. Recessionorapproach? Doesitmove, ordoI?

Theequation, n = n (1 + v over c), shouldwork, butitdoesn’t.

Thedistanceofthestar isparamount. Iftoonear,orfar, orifI,inmyhaste,

stormitwithacharge, orbackaway toosoon,toolate, takingupsword orpen,inartificialfury ofthebrain toolongdelayed, theneverythingwouldbelost.

Itiscold.

Iclosemyeyes. Black

yieldstoviolet,indigo,blue,

green,yellow,orange, redmorning. Overhead thestarsaregone.

Theplanesthatcross theirhorizontalcourse areblack againstthesun.

Thequasar’slost, itsspectrallines displaced towardsthered.

THEFEASTOFTHECIRCUMCISION

TheJordancrossed,withJoshuatheyknew Thesharpflint’smutilatingwombofpain Havingknownfreedomanddesert. Averting Theireyes,theloomingstonesofGilgalgrew

Phallus-like,tumescent. Anicydew Beadedtheirbodies. Foreskingone,obscene, Theirgearlayopentothesky,drenchedin Non-menstrualblood. ThisGod,cruelandnew

Tothem,man-cruel,wantingtheirprivateflesh, Enteredtheirsoulslikeiron: Wastherock WheretenderIshmael’spubertystillcries;

SanctionedyoungShechem’sheavywoundedcock, Madeofhisweaknesssudden,violentdeath; CarriedtheChristChildtobecircumcised.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(IX)

LIPATTIPLAYINGSCHUMANN

1

Gentle,caringSchumann, Affectedbyeverythingthathappenedintheworld, LettingitallfindanoutletinmusicStillrejectingthemadness, Pencilstrappedtohisleadhand, Writing,speaking,communicating,affirming Thewholeofhislifeinabstractsounds

Ashismindalteredperspective, Flog durch die stillen Lande, Als flöge sie nach Haus.

Es war, als hätt’der Himmel

Die Erde still geküßt, Itwasasif,knowing Hewouldhavesmalluseforthegiftsofage, Hedeterminedtowastenotimeoninessentials; Needingonlyachildliketranslucency Thatwouldnotgetintheway; Lettinghisgreathandsspeak Fortheuselessruinedones; Relyingontheclarityofhissoul.

2

3

Theywereboth,perhaps,children Whohavenevertired,aswetire, Watchingtheskinofsoap, Heldintactbetweencirclingthumb Andforefinger,shimmer,grow Withtheirbreath,detachitself Andfloatoutwardfromtheirdyinghands, Perfect,indescribable,unbroken.

GOLGOTHATRIPTYCH (I) CHRISTONTHECROSS

Woman,whydostthoutroubleme? Mytime isnotyetcome.

EnteringtheTemplealone inHiseyesight,Icouldnottakeyouthere; adolescentinyourhands,I couldnottakeyou;wherelonelinessandhunger mademadthewildernesswithpromise wasIwithoutyou;atSiloam wheretheblindmansaw allthatsparklingwater;e’entothegarden whereblood-prophetsoozed,mustI bealone;tobe alone,now: Inyoureyesight bareasbirth,stretchedopen, mutilateduntodeathwithoutyou: Tobe withyouinsleep;withyou indeath: Withyoualways,inyourblood,unseen.

(II)

THEOTHERTHIEF(ANTI-CHRIST)ONTHECROSS

Woman,whydidstthoutroublemeintolife? AlonehaveIlived.

Youshrivelledatmybelly, becamescab,scar-tissue,sunkoutofsight. Miraclesbecamedisasters;prayers endedtautbetweenmyhips,spattering thewildernessofpromise. Still wasIblind;blind asaworminthewarmdarkearth. Gethsemane becamelikeawhore: Ourbloodmingled inanecstasyofagony onthecross;glorifyingmynakedflesh. Butdeathwasall: Nothingtoseethere comprehensible,communicable,noteworthy. Ireturnedwithbloodyhandsandfeet towatchmydreamingsaintsbleeddeathforme.

(III)

THEGOODTHIEF(BAUDELAIRE)ONTHECROSS

Woman,whydoItroubleyou? Yoursoul magnifiestheLord.

YetdoIjourney throughthecordsofearth,smellingofblood anddark,betweenpositiveandnegative,rising andfalling,promisingthewilderness myflesh,astheblooddrains: AndIamblind, seeingwaterinmyeyes. Thegarden mustnotpassfromme: Iwillgothere withoutyou;feelthehurtofmylife pulledout;theblood,thenakedness, thesharppointofdeath. Then, ifallseemsmeaningless,orif Icandivinenomeaning,still shallIreturn,throughgreyshapes,bloodonmypen.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(VIII)

GANYMEDEHOROSCOPE

Theyaresleepingnowbutwoketosee Godgriptheearth inHisclaw,likeanEagle: Theyaresleepingnow-

IprayedthatI, separated,wouldbewiththem always,heldbysome umbilicalgravity; IprayedthatI couldentereternity; floatinMagritte moonlight,greenNoldesea; thatYnold’stearfulregret couldentereternity

lighthearted,complete. (Theearthsucksthemoon throughthePraesepecluster: opposing,aretheCrabandGoat lighthearted?) Complete

harmonyofform, possiblekinetically oroncanvas,ismore amicrocosmofthe harmonyofform

implicitinearthandmoon astesticles:one sterile,eroded;theother circlinggreenandnewimplicitinearthandmoon

aholdingandalettinggo: travellingbetween; carrying“affection” tothenewgreenaholdingandalettinggo.

Thefinalmovement tellsus“whatweare”: theappleinGod’sclaw predictstheparadiseof thefinalmovement.

EXEQUIES(XV)

Hewept. Hislifewasafeastwhere SesameandLilies grew Then Beautylaughedinhisface; spatout despair’s voltageregulator Discharged fromtheinstitution, hisdays followedoneanother snail-like ashecrepttohisgrave.

MAHLER’SFIRSTSYMPHONY

Thestridenttonesthattumblefromthelips ofdistanttrumpeters,thefourtrombones standingatthebackinthelastfewbars, expressinaharshagewhatMozart achievedwithasimplemodulation, Bachbyamajorscale. Nobody deservesthepraiseorblameforthisbuttime: Modebecomekeybecometone-rowbecome chance. Boulezisagreatcomposernow: Thediceoncethrownmaychanceeternity

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(IX)

PASADENA

Sunkinhischair heissolidasbronzeormarble. Therococopastoralscene, workedontheantimacassar behindhishead, istasteless,mass-produced; animageofArcadia duplicatedontheotherchair andthreetimesonthecouch. Theyareallthere inthelivingroomwhere, atfifteenI, unbuttoned,swungfromthedoorlikeamonkey; myboy’schestdarkeningwithadolescenthair. Exhaustedonthecouch, myheadthrownback againsttheeighteenth-century antimacassar, Ilookacrossatmyfather, hiscrumpledsuit,hishawk-likeface, hisindescribableness thatissoontopass intohistory, hardlynoticing thecrudeembroidery thatwilltaketheplaceofhishead.

SELF-PORTRAITATTHIRTY-THREE

Conceding thetimenowpast foratragically earlydeath, resignedthat, atthirty-three, theblood-drops coughedup onthewhitepillow, thepurpleangel’s crystaltears fallingoverGrodek, thefinal quarrelwithGod inatavernbrawl, thedeathbywater outofLivorno withnoguitar,Ariel’s strident emotionalangst, arenotforme:

ofcrucifyingage, Igladlywould spreadoutmyarms, climbupontoatree; yetGod seemstohavelet thiscup passfromme: markingtime untilmydeath insomepuny warofliberation, oruntiltheepic promisedfor myblindoldage, IfindIstillcan emit adropofcrystal lubrication atthemere mentionofsexjustlikeanadolescent.

EXEQUIES(XVI)

TERMINALSUMMER

Soredtheberriesare Growinginsecret Darklyhidden Amongthegreenness

Clusteredinblooddrops Atoptheirstalksstarkly Overripesoftfleshy Claywormsofsculpture

Alwaystherewaiting AsthedyingAugust Blossomsandberries Itswildmenopause

Underthehedgerows Throughcriss-crossbranches Glintingevilly Redintheblackness

Sproutednocturnally Night-growthslikecancers Blightingtheday-time Fleshofeternity.

EXEQUIES(XVII)- ARTISTS (iii)

Theherolaydead. Stillalmostaboy, hishair,blood-matted, wascarelesslyblown acrosshiswhiteforehead; evenamother’s fussingcarecouldnot havekeptitinplace. Backatthehotel hisbridewasinconsolable. DesperatelyIsought somewordsofcomfort, thefutilityofallwords henceforthaccepted, asthedecayofhishard brightfleshindeath hadtobeaccepted.

ThewordsIsoughtwere Rilke’s-fromtheElegiesyetIcouldnotremember where,andturnedthepages assheweptsilently

Thetenthseemedlikely; butno,thelineevadedme, asthemeaningofhisdeath seemedtoevademe.

Thefourth,theninthbothfailedtoelicit thelongedforpassage. Iallbutlostheart.

Wordhadarrived, theferrymustdepart; wassteamingatthejetty withoneplaceleftfor theheart-brokengirl stillsittingoppositeme inthetwilightroom, -faded,adaguerreotypeseekingsomeword, somegestureoffarewell beforeherdeparture forthemainland. They couldwaitnolonger, yetsheseemedunwilling togo,seekingmyface abovethebook,hereyes fullofdumbsorrow. Suddenlythewords werebeforemyeyes, blackonthewhitepage; asifIhadmadethem myself,outofher unbearablegrief. Ofcourse-thesixthIshouldhaveknown. She,turningatthedoor withagestureboth hopefulanddespairing, paleinthetwilight, unfinished-EdithHarms inwater-colour andpencil-andI, bookinhand,saying: «Wunderlichnah istderHelddochden jugendlichToten.» asifIhadfound thekeytocreation;

andshe,herfacelit asifbysunbeams, rushedbackandkissedme lightlyonthecheek, intokenofthanksgiving formywords,myattempt atcomfort: Lighthearted, almostgay,sheleftme inthequietdarkenedroom alone,almostasif theSpanishInfluenza thathadkilledher andwouldkillhim threedayslater wasabenediction.

-ADREAMOFEGONSCHIELE-

Thetracksofourancestors passquiteclosetothe glowingairterminal;

Intheirunseenfootprints wetreadthepathofourown stratification.

Settingout,thesun castgiantmegalithic shadowsaheadofthem;

Inthelengthening rock-liketotemstheywitnessed thedeathoftheirbodies;

Huddledtogether coldlycradledinsnow theyshiveredtostandingstones:

Awarmwalledsociety’s sacrificialvictims toitsunknowngods.

URBANLANDSCAPES(IV)

Gatwickairport glowsatnight likeabee-hive; itsbright goldenfacade promiseshoney.

InFarringdonRoad Ilaidmyhead onaconcretepillowmybackturned totheworld, Mymouth fullofdirt.

Acrosstherailwaytrack, inthedistance, Wren’sdome liftsitshead amidencroaching glassconformity.

Inthebeginning Godcreated theheavensandtheearth andform roseoutofchaos.

Twopoliceman standwithme inthedoorway; theirhands onmylegsandbody areefficient butarenotkind.

DrivinghometoLondon fromChichester, theapproachingtrees emergingoutofblackness intheundippedheadlights, knowingatlast whatEliotreallymeant, myhandsseemed tobelongtosome desperateterminal patient,longed towrenchthewheel fromtheskillful reasonablehands, tosmashthecar againstthebland kindbeckoningtrees.

Hometomenow iscessationoffeeling; tohavedonewith shivering,with despairing,with sheerendlessness; nottoneed,orwant, ordesire;only tocease.

Therewasaday whenthesunshone, whentheskywasblue: thenawind, carryingclouds, ruffledtheempty grassslope toadifferentcolour; inthemovingshadows atmyfeet layadrownedfledgling, bonyandfragile, itsfeathersstillwet withthenight’srain.

Gatwickairport atnightgrowsbright asabee-hiveTonight fog hasshutitdown.

OLYMPISCHETOTEN

Steppingoutofthehelicopters intotheMunichdark, thesteeloftheirweapons wasalreadymovingintheirbodies, thetremblingintheirstomachs beingcastinsmoothbronze. Whenthefirstbulletsthuddedhome amarvellousalchemycongealedtheirblood intheecstasyofpureaction. Nolongermerelyhuman, theyfrozeintothevariouspostures ofviolentdeath: hand-grenadepitched, machine-gunsputtering, standing,fallen,kneeling,prone, eachmovedintoposition forthefinalworkofart. Groupedtogether,thehopelessgesturesofeternity becamesculpturedmetal,thesmoothlimbsbronze underfoldsofbronzecloth, thefirstmetallicleavesofautumn blowingaroundthem inthedark Munich night.

ALITTLEBIRTHDAYCAROL

FormyMother

(Thelastsyllableofeachalternateline isaccentedasinsomemediaevallyrics.)

IsingofaLady WhobroughttomeArmsoverflowingThebrightredberry

Inherdemeanour Isensedthemystery Ofthegiftshehadgiven Mostlovingly

Claspedinherarms Likeanew-bornbaby Redbloodlayscattered Inthegreenery

Alljoyandsuff’ring Acceptedfreely Eachberryofferedits Eternity

WellIremember ThatlovelyLady Ofhergiftprecious MayIbeworthy

-I-1972

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XI)

INMYHEARING.....

Theysleepsoundlytonight: ThosewhomIlove.

Thefireislit.

Theflame,windless, scarcelymoves.

Thereisnodread intheangelofdeath whohoversalwaysoutside, justbeyondthewalls, unseen,unseeable

Thereisnofear inthewindofhiswings thatisstill asthehurricane'seye, orbreath thatceasesindarkness. Tomorrowhisfingers mayreachintous, alreadyperhaps heisdrawingthemaway, orisresting hisnarrowhand onmyshoulder, asiftoremindme ofsomething

Ihadalmostforgotten.

IHAVENOTFORGOTTEN.

NorshallIforget.

But (whetherhiseventual separation beaninstant’s oreternity’s) tonight theysleepsoundly:

ThosewhomIlove. Thefireislit.

Theflame,windless, barelybreathes.

hewouldnotraisehiseyesorlifthishead itgaveherasurprisehismothersaid

hewouldnotlearnwhenhewassenttoschool theteachersaidthathewasjustafool

hewouldnotstanduponhisweddingnight hispantsaroundhisankleslookedasight ahelicoptermovedacrossthesky itwasthelastdayofhislastJuly hestoodinRegent’sParkinthebrightsun hewasaloneinspiteofeveryone theconstablewhofoundhimlyingthere saidonlythewindwasmovinghisdeadhair pathologistswhoopeneduphischest saidtheycouldnotdeterminecauseofdeath morticianstriedtomakehisfacelooknice hiswifeandmotherglancedathimjusttwice thewormsthatcrawledintohisballstobreed swallowedthejunksofdeadwhiteuselessseed gorgedonhisfleshbetweenhisribswhitebars theycarriedhimpiecebypiecebacktothestars

URBANLANDSCAPES(V)

TheReverendAlbertWinnington Feelsinhimselfunease; Thechildrenfromthecouncilflats Playabouthisknees.

Asuddenshiftintimebringsback Thevillagewherehegrew, Thesweet-shop,school,thechurchandhall, Wereeverythingheknew.

Hisfatherandhisgrandfather BothordainedC.ofE., Fromhisfirstconsciousthoughtsthereseemed Butonethinghecouldbe.

Alifeofruralrhythms,birthandchristening, Marriage,death, Toknowthechildrenasyoungmen, Tocomforttheirlastbreath.

Butnotthesechildrenplayinghere, Hischargesnow,hisflock, Theirfaceshardandgrimyas Thehigh-risecouncilblock

Theycomefrom,facesscarcelyknown Brushpasthim,donotturn Tosmileathimorshrinkfromhim Oreventodiscern

Thelookofanguishonhisface: Hislifehascometothis. Alittlegirl,herpantspulleddown, Squatsbyabintopiss.

Whereisthesimplejoyheknew When,eagerafterschool, Hefoundanestwiththreesmootheggs, Speckledandeternal.

Whereisthegraceofvillagelife?

Wherearethesoulstosave? Thesechildrenherewillneverknow HisGod,frombirthtograve.

Whatistheuse? Whycarryon?

Alittleboyhasfound Hisgod;bothhandsinpockets Slowly,slowlymoveitaround.

Innature,onlyinnature, Therehiscomfort,hissolacelies. Notinthesechildren,concrete-faced, ButGod,beyondtheskies!

TheReverentAlbertWinnington Looksreverentlyup, Where,silhouettedontheroof, Twopigeonscooandfuck.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XII)

DREAM-SONNET

Ifthedreamerwakesbeforethedreamisfinished, MustArthurRimbaudcrouchbythelaburnumtree, MustEgonSchielewank,withnocontrollinghand Compellinghimtoviewthatawfulnakedness.

Ifthedreamerstirs,erect,thedreamhalf-finished, MustParliamentremaininsession,waiting,and MustIleavetheChristmasparty,reluctantly, Toloiteroutsideappalledbythesuddenemptiness.

Butifthedreamerdreamsthedream-poemfinished, MyfathershallnottarrylonginPurgatory, NorTonybleed,eternallydistressed;

Jesusshallpluckthenailsout,stepdownjauntily, TofindintheshatteredchaosofHishand TheworldHecreatedoutofabloodysea.

DEATHOFANAVIATORII

flyinglowmidwayonhislastjourney londonwaslikeatoy-townhehadknown once·asachild·wherehecouldplayunending games·wherethestreetsandshopswereallhisown

thefieldsofloveandfamestretchedoutbelowhim thegloryoftheworldcouldstillbehis onlythetearshefeltstinginghiseye-balls toldhimhislifehadendeduplikethis

slidingdownthesilversnakeofriver ashehaddoneindice-gamesasachild hewouldnotthrowagainnorseekaladder thedownwardurgeitselfhadbecomemild

thethingshe’dwantedmosthadneverhappened hefelt·beforetheobliteratinggreen thescaldingliquid·thinkingitwaspetrol nothim·boy-scared·wakingfromabaddream

ididnotmeantowriteapoemabouthim hewasproudandvain·perhapsnotverybright butchoosinghisdeathhechosemeouttoseeit flashinganinstantonthedarkernight

ANIRISHBUILDINGLABOURERFORESEESTHECOMPLETIONOF THENATIONALTHEATRE

goditslovelylyinghereinthesun highinthescaffolding myshirtundermyhead watchingmychestrisingandfalling turningbrown thecoiledblackhairsfrizzledlikeelectricwires

fuckthenationaltheatre fucktheirculture i’llneverwalkinsidethebloodyplace idotheworki’mpaidfor asfortherest itakemytea-breaks snooze readthenewspaper

theydon’tknowwhatit’slike downtherebelow lyinguphere staringatthebluesky fuck theforeman’scalling comingburt iwalktowardshimpullingonmyt-shirt

cementandglassandbricksisalliknow theaudiencewhocrowdthisbloodyplace willneverthinkofme hurryuptherejoe onlytheircultureandtheirartyplays butnowiknow whentheyapplaudeachnight i’llstillbeuphere shirtless stretchedout alone permanentasbricksorstones lying dozing bronzeasabloodystatueinthesun

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XIV)

FormyBrother

Theeaglespreadshiswings,itisSeptember, Thecloud-banksthreaten,justbeforedisappearing, Seehowthesuncatcheshissuddensplendour

Acreatureoftheairwhocanremember Onlytheblueofsummerdawnsunending, Theeaglespreadshiswings,itisSeptember.

Thoughearth-bound,time-bound,Icanstillengender Thatgoldenbird,thatwing,thatflashofwing, Howthesunlightcatchesitssuddensplendour:

Aprophetbirdunwillingtosurrender Eternity,stillhigherskywardflying, Theeaglespreadshiswings. ItisSeptember,

YourbirthdayandyourfortiethSeptember, Theyearslikebirdsareflutteringandturning, Howinthesuntheycatchasuddensplendour.

AlthoughthispoemcannotholdbackDecember, Iknowineternalsunlightwearedancing, Theeaglespreadshiswings,itisSeptember, Look! Thesuncatchesasuddensplendour.

5-IX-1973

MYTHOLOGIES(VIII)

PROMETHEUS (BRÂNCUȘI)

Feelingnolonger thebeakofthedarkvulture herests

Hisbody notnowpartofhim thechainsandnailsbitinto aheapofcoldstones

Polishedbyyearsofthenights hisbronzeheadanswered thesun’squestionings

Highinthemountains hisgiftnomoreaburden featureless hesleeps

MYTHOLOGIES(IX)

OEDIPUS’DREAM

No,Oedipusdidnotgougeouthiseyes

BecauseoftheplaguevisitedonThebes. Hismotivationwasleftunsaidin ThestatelySophocleanrhetoric.

WhenhetouchedthedeadfleshofJocasta

Adreamsprangsuddenlyintohismind;

Adreamnotdreamedsincehisadolescence

Butforonetimehecouldnotquiterecall: Immenseredwaters,silent,stillandbare;

Naked,heplungesdolphin-liketherein.

Abovealowredsuncatchesfire.

Asolitarybirdcriesoutfornight.

Underhimhishardblindphallussearches

Thereddepthwithitsbloodysightlesseye.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XIII)

“Whatshallwedowiththerestoftheday?” knowingthedayhasgotaway descendingintonight;

“Icouldwrite asonnetthatwillholdbacktime.” knowingthesunhaspassedtheline ofthehorizon, thatmidnightishurryingon upthesideoftheglobe,willstillcreep towardstheomegaofsleep aswesitinthefadingtwilight. Itisdark. “Thelight,” Isay,“isdazzling.” asyouswitchon. Butalreadywearegone.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XIV)

Look,myfriend,thissufferingneverends: Thefoetusfeelsit,swimminginthewomb Likesomeaquaticreptile,lungshardstone, Itscryasilentwoundthatnevermends.

Listen! Theschool-boyfeelsit. Evenfriends Growupordieorsimplylethimdown. Peopledeparttoosoonorstaytoolong. Lifeisadesert. Nothingeverends.

Yetbreathends. Lifeends. Evensuffering? Butinthesleepofdeathwhatdreamsmaycome? Istherestsilence? Oh,myfriend,theone

Hopethatisleftus! Shallwe,indying, Atlonglastfind,that,evenifDivine, Jesusisneithergentle,meek,norkind?

EXEQUIES(XXI)

POMEGRANATES

(i)

Miraculousinsidethehardredskin auniverseofliquidgemswaitacrystallinepinkjungle safefromthedesert,gatheringinsecret itspreciousburdenanoasisofsweetwaterdrops alloccultwithin thestiff,unpromisinggourd.

Picturethefirstmantohavetastedoneparched,dry,dusty,wary, placingasingleseed betweenhispartedlips, feelingthehoniedsapburstonhispalatesurelytohimthen thesweetnesstricklingdownhisthroat musthaveseemedlikeagift,abenediction.

(ii)

Inthedarkness, strangetomethen, adouble-headedflame roseheavenward, twin-voiced, itsmouthsfullofblood.

=Ourhearts neverbeat totheirmanhood dreamingof aheroism unattainable

inpeacefuldeath. Schoolboysandfriends wetrodthepath ofourstrange unexpected martyrdom scarcelyglancing overourshoulder atthealready alien winterstreet. Daylightlayahead inthefurnace wemovedthrough painlessly

Hardandred asdrypomegranates wesplitopen toreveal thehost ofpinkseeds bursting onthepalate likeGod’sblood. Hell andPurgatory behindus wemoved upthefamiliarhill leavingonly

twocarcasses ofroastedmeat -thefleshandoffal ofascant lifetimeandasweet liquidtaste onthelips ofthose whohadlovedus andwhoremember= Theirvoices sankintosilence amidtheflame andImovedon throughthe liftingdarkness towardsthe distant flickeringlight whereUlysses’ wandering tongueoffire wouldtellmeofhisdeath.

MYTHOLOGIES(X)

MAHLER71973(NewYear’sEve)

Anotheryearisgone.

Evilsmilesinthemoonlight Welaughatthesun.

Consciousnessnowencompasses RembrandtandBrâncuşi

CallasandTheFarmWemoveacrossthedarkenedlake

Towardsanunknownisland,peacefulandgrim; Theferrymanacceptsourcoinsand Gauntlysilent,hoversattheprow: Butnooarplashesinthewater Disturbingthesummer’send

Withinspiration,drawnGod-like Fromthesurroundinggloom.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XV)

onethingonly canabortatruepoem onlyonething but ifIcryoutorscream peoplewillthinkmemad orworse: Godmay ignoreme (hasalready shownsignsofit) reading Hiscelestialnewspaper overbreakfast deliberately avertingHiseyes fromthe tinynakedhumanbeing untidywithsin desperately tryingtoconjureup (where hispen-pointmeetsthepage) words thatmayeventuallyappear inthatcelestialnewspaper

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XVI)

AlreadyIamalientowhatIwasaweekago.

If I am silent it will not leave me.

Thestreetoutsideisempty. Deadtrainsrattleby

The wolves keep out of sight just beyond our vision.

Hereispeaceandcalm. Inme,nearme,aroundme.

If I am silent it will not leave me.

Youareallwithme: Willneverleaveme.

The wolves keep out of sight just beyond our vision.

Theyaresleepingupstairs. Heisquietlybreathing.

If I am silent it will not leave me.

Awake! Movement-speechandlaughter. Stillnessisdeath.

Disturbed,abirdsingsinthecomingnight.

Thewolveskeepoutofsightjustbeyondourvision.

MYTHOLOGIES(XI)

THEDEATHOFACETONE

Thejunksoffleshtornfromhisconsciousness Werestag-meat,heastagtohisgreathounds. Washeastag? Seeinghernakedness Didbranchingantlersgrow,hoovespawtheground?

Didshe,whilebathinginthepureness Ofherchasteglade,distracted,lookaround Toseethosehugeeyes,hardwithlustfulness, Peerfrombetweenleaves? Didsheunderstand

Thenatureoftheangershefeltgrow, Watchingthosesleekbrownloins,thatrisingflesh? Didhefeelstirringinhistasselledpouch

Seedsofthatdog-death? Bloodwasinhismouth. Didhe,thegameinhislastinstant,know Thisastheonlysatisfyingchase?

DEATHOFANAVIATORI

Alone

InthemiddleoftheAtlantic, Histwenty-fiveyearsofmemories Kepthimalive; Thesunontheseabelow Becamethetwinklinglights Ofanhundredsmalltowns; Hisplaneanotherplane, Heavywithair-mail.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Hewasaboy Inthehouseatnightfall; Thefuneral Ofhisgrandfather’sarm Aritualsolemnasflying; Orelsestretchednaked Onarockbytheriver, Dryinginthesun,aroundhim

Allthatsparklingwater

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Thehero WholandedinParis, Whofrettedforhisplane Asthecrowdcarriedhim Shoulder-high,whostrode Likeagiantacrosstheearth,meeting ThePrinceofWales,smiling,laconic, Wasstillthatboy InhiscockpitovertheAtlantic.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Itsavedhim, Thattimelessjourney, Thatisolatedmoment

Inthemiddleofhisfirstfiftyyears; Thewholeofhislifetime Containedinthosethirty-threehours: Whentheytookhisbaby, Nothingcouldconsolehim Butthatmemoryofsunontheocean.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Theyears, Followinglikebitterfruit, Turnedtoashesinhismouth; Theworld Thathehadonceheldinhishand, Grewlarger,moredistant,remote; Disgruntled,hegrewfurtherintohimself, HisbusinessandhisAmerica: Hisfleshbecameheavyandsad.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Thecancer, Whenitcameatlast,surprisedhim; He,havingfeltitgrowforforty-twoyears, Wonderedwhyithadtakensolong: Dying,herealisedwithapangofjoy Thathecouldstillfly, HighabovetheAtlantic,alone; ‘TheSpiritofSt.Louis’silver, Catchingthesun.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

Hisobituary

Appearedinallthenewspapers: Hisburialwasafamilyaffair, Isolatedfromtheworld

Aswhenhebidhismotherfarewell Withoutjournalistsorphotographers, Notknowingifhewouldseeheragain, Intimateandlonely,astheburial Ofhisgrandfather’sarmhadbeen.

The Flying Fool Lucky Lindy

SONNET

Lostinthetaxi-cab’srelentlesslight YoursuitcasestoodbesideyouonthefloorWewaited,lookingin,holdingthedoor, Holdingthemomentalwaysinoursight:

Holdingyoureyes,unnaturallybright, Holdingyourfarewellsmile,yourwave,muchmore Thaneverrunsfrompen-tip-thentheroar Oftheengineasyouvanishedinthenight.

Therainwasspittingoutoftheblacksky

Asiftomockourhope,negateourfaith. Ididnotevenneedtoquestionwhy

Theheartstops,foramoment,betweenbreath

AsiftointimatealastgoodbyeAndeverypartingisalittledeath.

THESPIRITOFTHEBEEHIVE

For Victor Erice

Itcametoherfirstinthebright,flickeringmovementsonthecinemascreen. Shesatinthedarkness,watchingtheinnocentshehadbeenplaywiththemonster Backhome,theceaselessactivityofthefamiliarhivecouldnotmakeherforget. Herfamily,loving,intimate,seemedasindifferentanduncaringasthebees. SheknewthatshemustseekItout,trackItdown,faceIt,alone,unaided.

Atschoolshereassembledherfear,gaveIteyes,repeatedthewordsofherowndeath.

PerhapsItlayinthewateratthebottomofthewell,orinthedesertedoldhouse. SheknewIthadbeenthere,sawthemarkofItscoming,senseditsinvisiblepresence. ShesawIteverywhere,infamiliarhouseholdsymbols,inthepoisonousmushroomsthatherfatherpointedout. Hereldersister,recognisinginherthechildshehadkilledinherself,feigneddeath. She,deceivedandhurt,withdrewdeeperintoherobsession,letitgrowinthedyingflamesofthebonfire. Wakinginthenight,shecreptsilentlythroughthemoonlitlandscape,willingIttocome. Itcameonthetrainshehadheardapproaching,earpressedtotherailway-track. Orrather,shethoughtItcame,andfacedItgladly,bringingfoodandclothing,comingtotermswithItatlast. Orrather,thinkingshehadcometotermswithIt,sherelaxed,becamevulnerable,unprotected. Smilingatbreakfast,herfearovercome,sherealisedhermistakeinthetinklingmusicofthewatch. Itcouldnotbleedordie,andyetbloodwasonthestonesandonherfingers. Itreturnedthen,nourishedbyabeyance,gigantic,redoubledinintensity. ShedidnotrunawaybutrantowardsIt,bendingtotouchIt,closinghereyes,willingIttocome. AndsoItcametoheratlast,inthenight,bythesilentriver,asIthadcomeatfirstinthedarkenedcinema. Approachingstiffly,sittingbesideher,reachingout,touchingherface.

Theyfoundherinthemorningandbroughtherhome,backtoallthefamiliarthingsofherchildhood. Butshewasastrangertherenow,inthehivemadeunfamiliarwithwhoknowswhatsaddenedfear Hersister,frightenedandalone,hidfromItbeneaththefriendlywarmbedclothes. Herfather,exhaustedbyIt,fellasleep,escapingtowhereItcouldnotreachhim. Hermother,lostinherowngrimsorrows,watchedoverthehousehold,asleeplesssentinel. Whileshe,gettingupandgoingtothemoonlitwindow,standing,peeringoutintothenight, HeardItapproachandclosedhereyes,acceptingItspermanenceatlast,

Strongerthananypartisanembrace.

MYTHOLOGIES(XII)

ARIADNEONNAXOS

Andwhatifthegodhadnotcome? Iftheheavenswereempty? Wouldshe Madehalf-madbylonelinessplunge Toherdeathintheemptysea?

Wouldshefeelinherhandonceagain Thetremblingoftheredstring Butseefromthelabyrinthemerge Avictoriousbull-headedthing?

Thegodwhenhecamedidhefind Herdreamingacreatureoffoam Achariothorsesgonemad?

Didherescueherknowingshehad Notescapedbutwasalwaysalone OntheNaxosofherownmind?

TRIPLESESTINA

Afterthebirththeyletthefatherin. He,waitinginthekitchen,heardhercry Andlongedtobewithher. Themidwifecame Andsawhimbroodingbythefireplace Andsaid: It’salright. You’vealovelyson. Hisheavyfarm-bootssoundedintheroom.

Atfirsthecouldnotseeinthebedroom. Theblindsweredrawn. Thesunlightfilteredin Dimly. Then,inthegloom,hesawhisson Nestledagainstthemother,hisfirstcry Stoppedbytheflowofwarmmilk. Thewholeplace LookedlikethescenetowhichtheMagicame.

And,crossing,hetoolikeapilgrimcame, Hushedbytheholysilenceoftheroom, Bythemiracleofbirth. Theveryplace Where,justbeforeChristmas,hehadenteredin Gentlyanddeeply,hearinghiswifecry, Had,bySeptember,blossomedwithhisson:

Theautumnbirth,unnoticed,ofason. Henextdayearlytothevillagecame Riding,wenttothebar,andheardhimselfcry: Drinksallround! Feelinghisjoyatlasthadroom Tomanifestitself. Hecouldfillin Theformaldetailslater: Sexandplace

Ofbirth. Byafternoonhefoundtheplace Andregisteredthebirthdayofhisson. Aclerkwastheretohelpfilltheformin. Nighthadalreadyfallenwhenhecame Ridingbackhomeward,picturingtheroom, Thebed,hiswife;hearingthebaby’scry

Theroom,thebed,hiswife,thebaby’scry Wereallashehadleftthem;thewholeplace Wouldalwaysbethesame: Enteringtheroom Thatfirsttime,forthefirstglimpseofhisson, Hadfixeditselfforever: Sohecame (Aflycaughtinthatambermoment)in.

Thehospitalwhereshewaslying-in Wasnewandsterile. Noupsettingcry Couldpenetratethewalls. Herhusbandcame Butshewasstillunconscious. Inthisplace, Sounfamiliar,shall,hethought,myson Firstseetheworld. Hesatinthewaitingroom.

Atlasttheycalledhimtotheprivateroom. Hisandthenurse’sfootstepsechoedin Theemptycorridor. Hisnew-bornson Wouldbethereinthemother’sarms;hiscry Wouldbreaktheawfulsilenceoftheplace. Thenurseheldthedooropenandhecame

Silentlytothebedside. Withhimcame Ahostofoldghostscrowdingthroughtheroom, Makingfamiliarnowthealienplace. Firstcamehisfather,stalkingproudlyin, Seeingthebedroom,hearingthebaby’scry, Caughtinthatmomentwithhisnew-bornson,

Seeingthatson,nowadult,withhisson Forminganotheramberbead. Nextcame Therowsofforebears,drawntherebythecry Acrossthecenturies. (Nosound-proofroom Againstimmortalears.) They,filingin, Stoodintheirserriedranksaroundtheplace,

Eachinthewaythat,inadifferentplace, Theyhadoncestood,seeinganew-bornson. Lastly,almostdiffidently,camein Astrangeparadeofphantoms. Astheycame Eachseemedthesame. Andyet? Intotheroom Firstcreptaschool-boy,drawntherebythecry;

Thenayoungsoldier,hearingthelastcry Ofsomedeadcomrade;then,takinghisplace, Abanker;thenabroker;tilltheroom Encompassedhiseveryage. Seeingtheirson Asleepnow,theygrewfainterandbecame Onewiththefather,lookedoutfromwithin.

Wesatinthetaxi,werenotgoingin. Theninthedarkweheardhermuffledcry Weranthroughtheshatteredsilence. Aswecame Intotheunlithallweknewtheplace Hadsuddenlygrowndifferent. Omyson! Ourmotherstoodthereintheemptyroom.

Andthatwasit. She,intheemptyroom, Wasnotalone. Wesensedit,comingin. Shestoodthere,crying,whispering: Myson! Mydaughter! HolyMary,hearmycry! MotherofGod,pleasehelpus. Andtheplace, Ourhometillthen,wasstrange. Andsowecame

Intothebedroom,andourchildhoodcame Silentlywithusintothatsilentroom, Notknowingitwouldneverleavetheplace But,lookinguponthebed,woulddietherein. SeeinghimdeadIdidnotevencry: Iamhisson,hisson,hisson,hisson

Andheisdeadforever: Wasason Hushedandrespectfulwhenthedoctorcame Andtolduswhatweknew. Ididnotcry, Butstooddry-eyedwithinmyfather’sroom, Wonderingwhattodo,howtofillin Thedays,nowtheworldhadendedinthisplace.

Daddy,youwereaworld. Thisisnoplace Toendajourney. Onceyouwereason, Borntoafarmingfather,grewupin AruralScotland,leftforthecity,came Throughabloodywar,toendupinthisroom Alone,nofathertohearyourlastcry

Daddy,Iamalone. ToyouIcry Knowingyoucannothear. Iknowthisplace Wasonceyourhome,isnowanemptyroom. Theuniverseisempty. Ifyourson Criedlikeababy,wouldyoucome. Icame; Myunbornsonstillstrugglingwithin.

TrappedinmyloinsIhearmyforebearscry: Eachofuscame,thinkingthiswastheplace... Youandyoursonshalldieinanemptyroom.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XIX)

THEBALLADOFTHEGOLDENYOUTH

Agoldenyouthwhopromisedwell Setoutonedayatdawnalone, Seekingawildromanticworld Thatdoesnotexist.

Now it is over The golden youth sang

Standingonasunnyhill Heviewedtheunlimitedhorizon, Theprospectalreadycircumscribed Byhistwocuppedhands.

Now it is over

The golden youth sang

Dreaminginafieldalone Atnightfall,drowsyeyelidsdropped Overendlesspossibilities Shrunkenintoone.

Now it is over

The golden youth sang

Darknessclosinginaround Theblueflameofhismelancholy, Hisyoungsoulcouldnotcomprehend Unimaginedblackenedwood.

Now it is over

The golden youth sang

Lostamidyoungfleshandstars, Hissemenleaptbeyondthebounds Ofspace,thegrass-stalksathisloins Sufficientstimulation.

Now it is over

The golden youth sang

Singinghisheartoutintothewind, Emptyinghislungs,notnoticinghow Thewindblewbackintohismouth Hiswindypoeticclaptrap. Now it is over

The golden youth sang

Naked,garden-bound,untried, Helayinthegrass,allunaware Ofthestealthy,bearded,greyingold Codger,who,bendingoverhim, (Now it is over

The golden youth sang)

Blindfoldshiseyes,bindsuphissoul, Filcheshiswildromanticdreams, Clutchesathisexhaustedloins, Blowsoutthematch,takesuphispen. Now it is over

The old codger said

SCOREFELL

(ForDavidHill,15,andColinPace,19.)

Thetwoyoungmen,theyaredead,theyaredead! Theyarefrozeninthesnow! Theywentforawalkandaredead,andaredead! Letthemgo! Letthemgo!

Didtheydozeoffeventually,thinkingtowake?

Ordidtheyknowtheywoulddie? Didtheyfeelthemselvesslipaway,feeltheirheartsbreak, Staringupatthefrozensky?

Didthemenwhodiscoveredthemfeel‘neaththeirhand Theunwrinkled,unweariedflesh Becomecoldasmarbleeternally,and Animagetheylaterwouldcherish?

Didthepublicwhoheardofthedeathsseethemgo Astwoyoungmendeaderetheirprime; Orseethetwoladshuddledcloseinthesnow, Sidebysidefortheverylasttime?

Didtheparentswhowatchedthetwobodiesbroughthome Seethelimbstheyhadnurturedandloved Smoothindeath,icy,cold;bringthesnowydeathin Tothewarmhearthtolodgethere,unmoved?

No,thetwoofthemcameforthtoclimbupScoreFell; FromBarrowtheycameallalone: AndthoughColinkeptpacewithhisDavid,thehill Wastoostrong,andtheydiedturnedtostone.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XV)

MAHLER’S3rdSYMPHONY

(PROGRAMMENOTES)

I

Insentience.

Unborncreation. AndthentheCall. Thestruggle.

Thestruggleagainstprimordiallethargy. ThestruggleforBeing.

Ohtohavebeenonearthforthatfirstsummer. Thefirstsummerofcreation. Howthesunmusthaveshone.

Howtheyoungworld,steamingandfresh,musthaveglitteredandshoneinthebrightmorningair

Ohtohaveseenthestruggle,alivewithlight,likethewrestlingoftwoboys,naked,inasun-drenchedgladeatmidday. Ohtohaveseenit.

Thinkingthesummermustlastforever.

Thentheancientlongingfornothingnessagain. Thedownwarddragintooblivionagain.

Permanent butfor theCall.

Theflowersaregracefullydancing

Themeadowiscrimsonandgold

Theshadowsofcloudsareadvancing

Thebannersofearthareunfurled

Thereisonlyspringandthepresent

Thereisonlycolourandlight

Yesterdaywasbutaninstant

Tomorrowthereshallbenonight.

Theanimalsknownothingoftheirdeath. TheygallopandrutandplayinthefieldsofNow. Thepastandthefutureareotherfieldswhere Otheranimalsgallopandrutandplay

Theycanbenothingbutthemselves. Then,suddenly,inaninstantofsilence, Thesad,smallvoiceofhumanitycomestothem Likeasentimentaltuneblownacrossthefields, Containingallofthesorrowsofthepast, Alltheforeknowledgeofanimminentmortality, Andtheycannotbutstopandlisten

Asifgiven,inthedistantblowingofthehorn, Afugitiveglimpseofanevolutionaryawareness

Asyetunknowntothem,butfeltinthesunlight. Theytalkquietlyamongthemselves

Asthemusicfades,questioningtheunanswerablesilence, Thenhushagain,strainingtocatch

Thedyingmelancholynotes Which,onceheard,itseems,cannotbelivedwithout. Thenthepresenceofmanisgone. Themusicfadesout Completely,andthey,beinganimals,awareonly OftheeternalNow,returntotheirstateof Animalforgetfulness. Unawareoftheirdeath, TheygallopandrutandplayinthefieldsofNow

OhMan! Takeheed!

ListentothevoiceofunfathomableMidnight!

«Islept. Islept. FromunfathomeddreamsIhaveawoken. Theworldisunfathomable, Moreunfathomablethanthedaytimeknows. Sorrowisunfathomable, Ecstasymoreunfathomablethananysorrowsoftheheart. Sorrowtellsusthatwemustdie. Butallecstasylivesineternity, Livesinunfathomed,unfathomableeternity.»

Themorningbells

bim-bam Werechiming bim-bam

Seemedtosay: Thensungthethreeangelsasweetsweetsong, WithjoyandsalvationthroughHeavenitrang. Exalting,theyshouted,theycarolledwithjoy, ThatPeteratlastfromhissinwasfree.

AndtheretheLordJesusattableHesat, WithHistwelvedisciplesatsupperwereat. ThenspaketheLordJesus: «Whystandestyouhere, AndweepwhenIlookatyou? Whatdoyoufear?» bim-bam bim-bam

«AndshouldInotthenweep,mygoodGod,myLord, IhavebrokenYourcommandments,ignoredYourword, Ihavetransgressed,nowImustweepbitterly Ahcome,spreadYourpityandloveoverme.»

«Ifyouhavebrokenmycommandments,myWord, ThenfallonyourkneesandpraytoyourGod. LovenonebutGod,forever,always, SoyouwillatlastearntheHeavenlyjoys.»

TheHeavenlyjoys,ablessedcityoffriends, TheHeavenlyjoys,nobeginningsorends, TheHeavenlyjoysatlastPeterattains, Asallcan,throughJesus,suchblessednessgain.

Sothemorningbells bim-bam Chiming bim-bam Seemedtosay bim-bam bim-bam

Father,lookontheseMywoundsLetnotonecreaturebelost.

SospokethevoiceofLove SpeakingwiththevoiceofBeethoven’slastgreatwork Itspulsethepulseoftheuniverse. Then,emergingfromthetimelesssound, Anewvoice Rising ThevoiceofFaith Ofcertainty

Thentheancientlongingfornothingnessagain. Thestrangeglamourofnon-being. AndthentheCallalloveragain

Fatherlookonthese,Mywounds..... SendmeYourfaith

Insentiencecalls

Primordiallethargy Thedownwarddragofoblivion Constantrecurringlureofnon-being NO

Athreadofsound Flutingoutofthedarkness Emergingfromunborncreation

ThethreadofFaith Swelling,growing,greaterthananyancientagony Tellingme

Father,lookattheseMywounds-

ThevoiceofFaith Letnotone Creature OfBelief

Belost.

DERDOPPELGÄNGER

TheShipofStateislostatsea, Therearenooars,thesailsarefurled, ThereisnoCaptainonthebridge; Wedrift,shallwesailofftheworld.

Belowtheshadowywater-line AremoraisholdingfastThetatteredflagofourcountry Droopsindefeatatopthemast.

Thewindhasdropped,thecloudedsky Isthreatening,butwecannotfeel: Likezombieswearegalvanised; Wehoisttheropes,tiedownthewheel.

TheMasteroftheUniverse SeemstohaveputhisbooksawayThestarsareshrunkenonourface Totinydropsofsaltsea-spray.

Wetoilondecktonoavail, Exhaustedinourcabinswe Lieonthebunksstillsmellingof Thesailorswhomweneversee:

Thesheetsarestickywiththeirsweat, Ourspunkiscrustingontheirthighs, Theirprickserectinsideourpants, Oureyelidsopenontheireyes.

Weknowthattheymusttakeourplace Ondeck,whilesleepingfitfully Wedreamofthematwork,until Wedonotknowiftheyarewe:

Ifitisthemthatstrainandsweat, Ifbunk-boundwetoss,canneverrestWefeeltheirbreathraspinourlungs, Theyfeelourheartsbeatintheirchest.

Onedayweshallmeet. Ishallwake Atmidnight,naked,Ishallrise, Creepfromthecabin,mountthesteps, Climbtothedeck,seestrangenightskies,

SeeconstellationsIhaveknown Onlyindreams,seenakedmen Toilingwithropesandsails,andsee Amidthemoon-drenchedbodiesone

Whosebloodiscoursingthroughmyveins, Whosewakingdreamsdisturbmynights, ToilingIstraightenuptosee Thealien,toofamiliarsight

Approaching,straightening,touching,we Standchesttochest,feelgenitals Brushoneanother,feelourbellies Breathingasone,amidthesails

Andcoilingropesweseparate, Liketwowingsofabutterfly, Imprintedwiththesamepattern Ofbreastandnavel,nipple,thigh,

Butnowmybloodisonhispalms, Andnowmysideiswoundedquite, Ourshipcanneverreachtheland, Islostforeverinthenight.

MOTORWAY

Themotorway instarrydrops ofamberbeads theurbannight Chartersthemental rosary ofsecular pellucidlight.

EPITAPHFORNIGELPRICE

(Sunday2ndMay1976)

ToNigelPrice,thefirstbornandthelasttodieofthePricesixtuplets. I

PoorlittleNigelPrice Livedouthisweekoflife

Inthepalebuddingspring Sawdeathasagreening GodresthissoulinChrist II PoorlittleNigelPrice Kepthistenuousholdonlife Astheothersletgo Wouldnotgiveinandso GodresthissoulinChrist III

PoorlittleNigelPrice

Couldnotresignhislife Tillhissoulhadgrown Amatchforourown GodresthissoulinChrist IV

PoorlittleNigelPrice Hadtouseupalife In7daysand2hours (Wouldhisfatewereours) GodresthissoulinChrist

THROUGHAGLASSDARKLY

Godwas,shesaid,likeablackspider,livinginacrackinthewall. Whentheycame,inthehelicopter,totakeheraway,itwaslikeascenefromafilm. TheCelestialEditorhas,however,removedthesentimentalclimax: Idonottalktomyfather;wesitsullenandsilent,studiouslyavoidingeachother’seyes. Shameprecludesanyintimacies-

Walkingonmyhands,mybellybare,mysweaterroundmychest,seemsanunthinkableobscenity

Afterthefinalframe,alone,Ijerkoff,silent,intent;thinkingofherwarmbodyasitsuckedin thefleshypinktubethatdidnotseemtobelongtome.

WillIdie,anoldman,stillrememberingmyselfandmysisteraloneinthatdesertedboat? WillsheendherdayswithGodstillscramblingupherskirt,underherskirt,findingthecrack, violatingherwithspideryintensity?

WhenIwashedmyselfunderthegardentap,crouchinginthedarkness,tryingtogetherblood offmyshirttails,pullingmyforeskinbackunderthecoldwater, IthoughtthatIsaw,inthecrackedplasterwherethewater-pipeentersthewall,adarkshape peeratmeforaninstantanddisappear,scurryingawaybetweentheflakingplasterintothe impenetrabledarknessofitshome; Adeadladybirdwasatmyfeet,almostanemptyshell,suckedofallitsvitaljuices.

NowIwillsitintheemptyhouse,withmyfatherandherhusband,eachofusinhisownway,so tospeak,jerkingoff,thinkingofher,waiting,notfortheglimpsethroughthecrackbutforthe finalvisitation:

ForthenweshallmeetHimfacetoface,knowHimatlast,seeHimasHereallyis: Blackandpitilessanddeadly

THERETURNOFODYSSEUS

Theguestshaddeparted. Nowtheywerealone. Earlierhehadbeenoneofthecrowd, Unnoticed;tillfamiliareyesallowed Thatsuddenrecognitionofhimyoung.

Theguestshaddeparted. Allexceptforone Whohadnotbeenaguestatall. Theloud Suitorsweresilenced. Tenyearsshehadvowed Herloveforthisoneman. Nowhehadcome.

Shelovedhimstill. Thehusbandshehadknown Wasthere,asgentle,inhislovingtouch. Yetsomehowhewasdifferent. Circe'smagic

Worksinsubtleways. Longcustomhadgrown Betweenthem. Suddenlytheirlovewastragic Asanancientplay. Hehadseentoomuch.

Andhewentdownontothebeach,diggingbetweentherockswithastick,occasionallybending toexamineanemptyshell;

Andthetidewasrisingslowly,slowlyrising,growingmuffledbehindhim,cuttingoffhisescape route,eatingintothesand;

Andhedidnotlookaround,didnotturn,intentonthebusinessathand,intentontheminute examinationoftheleft-overlifeofthestrewnebb-tide, Intentontheformerhomesofthedeadmolluscs,thehusksofextinctsea-creatures,thedried piecesofseaweed,theskeletonsofindecipherablefish;

Andtheflood-tidegrewloudinhisears,poundingonthebeach,frothingoverpittedsand, precipitatingthehastywithdrawaloflong,glisteningworms;

Butthebloodpoundinginhismindwasonlytheremembranceofthepoundingsea,wasonlya shellheldtohisear,carryinghimbackintothepast,intohistory;

Andthentheboysappeared,playinginthedistance,boundingoverthebeachlikedogsatplay, barkinglikedogsintheirecstasy,intenseaschildrenatnightfall,playing,waitingtobecalledby invisibleparents;

Andhiseyesfollowedthem,followedthelongloopsoftheirsuddenruns,followedthelong tracksoftheirprintscrossingandrecrossing,dissolvingonthewetforeshore;

Andhisheartfollowedthem,followedtheirsomersaults,followedtheirspontaneousadolescent antics,followedthesuddenrestingoftheirbodiesonthesand;

Andhismindfollowedthem,followedthesublimespontaneousnessoftheiractions,followed thedartingjoyoftheirsuddenness,theunfetteredfreedomoftheirNow;

Andtheflood-tidepoundedonthebeach,unnoticed,thenarrowpathwayofsandallbutcovered bytherisingsea;

Andstillhedidnotturn,didnotseetheonlyarteryofescapeslowlyclosing,siltedupbythe erodingwaters;

Andtheydidnotseeit,intent,laughing,free,themselves,ashehadbeenhimselfandfree, beforethetidehadgoneout,beforehehadbeenleftstranded,withallthedebris,alone;

Andhewasnotalonenow,standing,solemn,watchful,apieceofdriftwoodinhishand,carving lightundecipherablehieroglyphicsonthewetsandathisfeet;

Andhewasnotalone,watchingtheboys,hismindjoinedthem,wrestled,rolled,played,a formalcounterparttotheirraggedromping,adroningbass-notetothebubblingfigurationof theirdance;

Andthetiderose,pounding.

Andheknewthatthetheorieshehadformulatedallhislifewereasnothingcomparedtothis celestialliberation,thisdreamonthebeachintheearlymorning;

Andthetiderose;

Andhewasnotalone;

Andthesoundofthepoundingwavesgrewlouderinhismind;

Andheturned,seeinghimselfstrandedbytheincomingtide,seeingtheboysstillplaying,unaware; Andhecalledtothem,warningthemtogetout,callingovertheroaringpoundingofthewaters inhisears;

Buttheydidnotseemtohear,stillintentontheirplay,stillrollingandwrestling,thewet seaweedstickingtotheirtorn,ruffledclothes;

Andhecalledagain,moreurgent,hisvoicecarriedawaybytherisingwind,hecalledandthey couldnothear;

Andhewasglad; Andthentheystoppedtheirplay,andcame,andstoodbeforehim,solemn,silent; Andtheylookedatoneanother,andtheyturnedtheirheads,andtheireyesmethisintheearly morninglight; Andthetiderose Pounding

Thetide,receding,leavesbehindthedebrisofathousandlives

Thecigarette-butts,papercups,orangepeels,condoms

Thegarbageofaslowlydyingplanet

Togetherwiththehusksofextinctsea-creatures,thedriedpiecesofseaweed,theskeletonsof indecipherablefish,theshellsoflong-deadmolluscs

And,earlyonSaturdaymorning,the19thofFebruary,1977,

Thedrownedbodiesoftwoboys:JamesToveyandMarkLeighton,bothfifteen,whohadtaken aferrytotheIsleofWightand,whilebeachcombing,hadbeencaughtbytheincomingtide And,strandedonthewhitesheetsofthebed,theformerhomeoftheRightHonourableMember ofParliamentforGrimsbyandForeignSecretary,Mr.AnthonyCrosland

Lies,likeanemptyshell,hollowedofpoliticalthought Stillsoundingfaintlyofthesea.

POLYNEICESUNBURIED

FormySister

UnburiedonthebattlefieldIlay

Thesiegewasover. Dustwasinmymouth. Thebes,thatwasminenow,tastedoftheearth. Myvictorywasbitterasdecay.

Weplayedourpartslikeactorsinaplay But,withascenetogo,hadlostourbreath. Mymotherandmybrothercoldasdeath. Onlymysisterstillhadlinestosay

Butwouldnotplayherpart. Shewouldnotweep. Shewouldnotscrapetheeartharoundmyhead. Shewouldnotjoinusinourdreamlesssleep.

Shewouldnotmournoverherrecentdead. But,laughinglikeaPhoenixinthesun, Shetouchedwithflameourhearts. Wehadbegun.

8-V-1977

ECLOGUES HAMLET IN HOPLANDS

Hamlet,dying,

Iamtheghost attemptstoput Thehauntedandthehaunter intosomesort

Iamtheweapon oforderinhis Andthewoundedflesh feverishbrain, beforethepoison

Iamthefuneralmarch takesitsfull Thecorpseandmourner effect,thedetails

Iamthediamond ofwhathadhappened Andthemortaltrash afterhediscovered, twodaysoutof

Iamtherefuge Denmark,thathis Andtherefugee unclewassending

Iamtheprisoner himtohisdeath Andtheturningkey inEngland.

Iamthefuture

Iamhistory

Trustingnobody, Thiscountrysideforme hehadwrittento Ismyfather’smemory Horatio,tellinghim ofanimagined

Hisbroadhands rescuebypirates Aretheland onthethirdday ofthevoyage.

Hisblueeyes Then,landingon Thecountryskies theKentcoast, hehadengineered

Hisforearmstrong hisescapefrom Asthemiddaysun Rosencrantzand Guildensternand, Hisstare ridingalonethrough Intodistantair thecountryside, hadbeenhaunted Alert againbytheghost Asabird ofhisfather.

Yetatpeace Astheblownleaf

Hispresencefills ThegentleKentishhills

Henceforthforme Thiscountrysidewillbe Myfather’smemory

Drawingnear Atthethresholdofthelabyrinth: Hisshadow, toMaidstone Lengthening,meetstheshadowthatitbecomes; asthenight Thescarletcord,vanishingintothedarkness closedin,he Fromherwhitebody,seemslikeatrailofblood. hadsoughtto giveallegorical

Inthearteriesoftheearth: Alone,hissoul significance Feelschillsubterraneanfear;hiseyes tohisdilemma. Scanimpenetrablenight,starebeyond Theblanklimitsoftheabyss,seekingthemonster

ItisHere. Attheheartofthecave: Hediscerns Labouriousbreathing,sensesbestialmovement, Plungeshisswordlikesunlightintothevoid.

Backintheworld: Theyseewhathehaskilled. Shetriestocomforthim,knowingthereisnone. Hecrieslikeababy,enteringherwomb.

Inaneffortto Intheshadowof escapefromhis thehanginghop-bines fateandthedemons sunrarelypenetrates, ofhismind,hehad mossgrowsemerald takenalabouring ontheground. jobonahopandfruit farm. Yeteverywhere Thehopsloopdown heperceivesparallels likebunchesofpale withthepastand featherygreengrapes hintsofaninescapable fromthewiredcheckerboard future. Oneday,in ofbluesky themiddleofthe hop-fields,hehad Hereiscoolness pausedbetweenthe andshade. Hereis rowsofbinesto aCézannelandscape. rethinkhissoliloquy Butnowhere permanence.

Halfthefield alreadystands inadesertofsun; mosseshavevanished, theearthdriedout.

Relentlessly theapproaching chuckchuckchuck ofthehop-knife leavesexposed

Thewoodandwire skeleton ofthewintertocome, starkinthe Septembernoon. Fromthebine-tracks metaljaws hanginggreencarcasses moveformally intothemachine.

Soonthefield’s geometryof suddenhoplesswire willbesilent ofrustlingleaves;

Fieldbyfield ofintenseactivity willdieaway toanhiatus ofexhaustedearth; Soontheseshadows willbeamemory onabaresunlitstage whereIemerge forthefinalscene.

Butnotyet. Notforalittle whileyet. Herenow incoolnessandshade thehopsloopdown: Beneathblue squaresofsky palefeatherygrapes hanginbunches amongtheleaves.

Delayinghisdeparture, HisKentishhandsarecountryhands, hehadcuthisfinger Hardenedbyyearsoffarmingwork, tothebonewhile Markedwiththinwhiteknife-woundscars, sharpeningahop-knife Calmlymethodicalastheytend onthelastdayof theharvest. Toldto HisDanishhands,frailcityhands, gotothehospitalfor Swollenwithunaccustomedwork, ananti-tetanusinjection Restlesslymovinginrepose, asaprecautionagainst Theknuckleslicedopendrippingblood. aninfectedblade, insteadhehadhad HisKentishhands,dabbingthewound, thewounddressed Showunexpectedgentleness, byJohnSlattery, Tyingthebandagelightlyround afarmerofsome twenty-three HisDanishhandwithsuddengrace, yearsstanding. Comfortingastheirownhealedwounds, Impossibleastheirtenderness.

Walkingslowlyback Returningalone throughthedesolate throughCanyonatevening landscapeofempty thesuncaughtastone. polesandwires,he hadstoppedinCanyon,thelasthop-fieldtobecleared,topickupamemento.

Stillkicking

IfthiswereArdenandOrlandoI, againsthis Lostintheforest,clearlyquiteathome, fate,hehad Seekingabranchtohangmylatestpoem, agreedtostay Nailinggraffitifasttoeverytree, onforthe fruitpicking.

I’dtraceupontheblueOctoberday Sonnetswhereexiledlovers,forcedtoroam Inshadowybowers,answermoanformoan, LovingtheIdeal,whethergirlorboy

ButIamHamlet,PrinceofElsinore, Astrangeramidpeartrees,whereIfind Thelaceratingbranchesofmymind, Rankweedsandlonggrassstrewtheorchardfloor,

Andheremypoemslikedeadlynightshadesdroop Frompurplestemstheirpoisonoussoftfruit.

Pickingapples theseason oneafternoon almostover onaladder against highabovethe theappletree Bramleys,hehad stoppedwork, aheavy suddenly,aware woodenladder ofanabandoned thrustsinto laddernearby, infinity juttingbeyond thefloorof above tree-tops, theforkingbranches leadingnowhere: itsempty uselessrungs below theorchardstretches itsfloorofgreen becomes agentle harvest-haunted vacancy thatfills thesunlit autumncheckerboard ofdistant Kentishhills overhead ajetplane impossibly high traces featherywhitenesson indifferent bluesky

Seekinganobjective theuniverse correlativeforhis hasjumpedagrove ownsenseofalienation, continues hehadreinterpreted toreplay thehumancondition inthelightofmodern theabsent baby-caretheories, elementallove asaracialmemory withdrawnonthat ofseparationfrom firstday theparentforthe firstdayoflife; fruits logicallytakingit oftheforbiddentree allthewaybackto lieinthegrass theCreation. androt theGardner fromthecemetery tredsthem underfoot themoribund angelichost declines tovisitman Jacob wrestleswithaghost thetopmost emptyrung stillbreathes aquietatmosphere ofimminent goodbye thedetritus ofladder climbsblack againstthesky

tractors takeawayfullbins theapples allarepicked distinguished theologians chokeontheir rhetoric thesaints haveallbeenmartyred thevirgins alldespoiled thegods arealldeparted theirambassadors recalled

Nextmorninghehad Fogintheappletreestoday climbedtheladderagain Longleafyfingerspry inthehopeofsome Anddisappearintothedensegrey furtherrevelation. Nearnessofthesky Butathickwhitemist, hanginglowoverthe

Betweenthewreathsofswirlingmist orchardandshrouding Emergeandfadeaway everythinginastrange ThreefiguresoutofGenesis mysterioussilence, Likeactorsinaplay hadgivenhisfancy fullrein.

Poisongushesfromthesnake. Evetakesoffherdisguise, Detumescence,foreskinback,

Adam’spenisdries: Unborngrandchildrenweedandrake Theorchardwherehedies.

Unwillingto Nowthatthishandseemsofthesebranchesmade procrastinate Strongasthemiddaysunuponthewood anylonger,on MustItoDenmarkandforgothistrade thethirdday hehadclimbed Emergingfromthehop-binestemptingshade theladderfor WhereIwouldlivealifestupidlygood thelasttime, Nowthatthishandseemsofthesebranchesmade havingdecided thathemust Tochangethehop-knifeforadeadlierblade returntoDenmark Thissunlitorchardforabarrenshroud andresumehis MustItoDenmarkandforgothistrade responsibilities.

Andatlasthe Reportingtotheworldmyselfbetrayed hadachieveda Bythestrangeweaknessofapassingmood certainunexpected Nowthatthishandseemsofthesebranchesmade illumination. Glancingdown MustIagainthegloomymasquerade momentarilyat PrinceofthecastlewheretheymurderedGod thebranchhe MustItoDenmarkandforgothistrade isgraspingfor support,hedoes Hearingdistantfuneralmusicplayed notrecognisehis Mourningthelostfarmerinmyblood ownhand:broader Nowthatthishandseemsofthesebranchesmade andbrowner,the ImusttoDenmarkandforgothistrade forearmgrown branch-likeandthick,asmallleafytwigappearstohavesproutedfromthewrist. Heispartofthetree.

Beforeleaving HisDanishhands,stillfrailandsmooth, thefarm,hehad Restlessasever,stillunmarked saidgoodbyeto Saveforathinwhiteknife-woundscar, John. Nowjoinasoneinlastfarewell

HisKentishhands,which,havingmade Theirformalgesturesofgoodbye, ReturntotheirrestwithinthesoilStrongworkinghandsateasewithdeath.

OhDanishhands! OhKentishhands! Talkwitheachotherthroughyourwounds, Comforteachother’sbattlescars.

OhKentishhands! OhDanishhands! Communicatingunspokenwords: Staywitheachotherthroughtheyears.

Onthevoyage Wakingatnight,theysurroundme backtoDenmark inthedarknesslikeswayingvines, hewashaunted hangintheloopsandtwists inhisdreams ofashadowyjungle. bytheghosts ofthehops.

Daysofsunlight,imprint thehop-binespatternofheavy coilingtendrilandleaf onthework-smoothretina

ofthemind,embed thetractor’slurchings,between corridorsofgreenlight, onthedreamingmentallandscape.

Ghost-Hops! Duskysilhouettes oftheday’slabour,skeletons ofafarmingpast,wave theirlimbsingentlereproach.

Landingina Rain thunderstorm, Commences hehadcompared Peoplescatter unfavourably Run thesoftlife oftheCourt Cower withthehard Indoorways countrylife Umbrella towhichhe Bound hadgrown accustomed. Meanwhile Inorchards

Therain Trickles Frombare Workingheads

DyinginHoratio’s

JohnSlattery’shands arms,thepotent Arecountryhandspoisono’ercrowing Horatio,holdmetight! hisspiritquite, JohnSlatterybound theconfusedmind Mymortalwoundmakesfullplay Horatio,itisnight! withitsneurosis: John,whomhe

Soundthecannon imaginescoming ThatJohnmustcome tobindhiswounds, Horatio,Ihavefear Ofdyingalone, Exiled;myhome, Horatio,isnothere.

Oh! Iamslayed! Thepoisonousblade Horatio,ofMelot. becomesIseult, Yetmustshecome onherwayto Withhealingbalm healTristan, Horatio,myIseult!

Donotfail, Watchforthesail Horatio,itisnigh: Ifwordcomesback Thesailisblack Horatio,Imustdie.

Perhapstheysaid ThatIwasdead, Horatio,goodfriend! Perhapstheybring Thedyingking, Horatio,formyend.

becomes Afigurewaits Beyondthegates, Horatio,ofhorn: Flickersbetween, Horatio,thegreen Andredhawthorn.

theGardner,

Amongthebones

Andbrokentombs, Horatio,ofthedead; Overthegrass Hissilentpath Horatio,Itread.

Hardbythetree Hewaitsforme, Horatio,hishand becomesHamlet Grippingthebough himself, Iswoundednow, Horatio,andtanned!

Hisforearm,strong Asnoondaysun Horatio,isbare; becomeshisdead Inhisblueeyes: father, Thecountryskies Horatio,arethere!

Hispresencefills Thegentlehills, Horatio,hecomes! Hismemory Asfreshforme Horatio,asJohn’s.

Hishealinghands Willbindthesewounds Horatio,asbefore, Withsuchtendernessbecomehisdeadfather, Iamfatherless Horatio,nomore!

becomesJohnagain

Ishallreturn Tomytruehome Horatio,andstand Anexileagain, Deathinmyveins..... becomes,finally,Horatio. Horatio...yourhand...

Inhislastmoments

Bloodgowned heisonceagainwandering Thesunon alonethroughCanyonon Thehorizon theeveningofthelastday Drowned ofthehopping. Alowslanting redsunpicksoutthestone Wound heistokeepasamemento. AroundCanyon Ashewatches,thestoneseems Astone togrowenormousandred, Deadsound almosttobecomethesun-disc:

Thesun-stoneitselfseems Elsewhere tobetalkingtohim. Isviolence Resthere Insilence Darkwhere Thebineis

Horatio,unclaspinghisdeadfingers,findstheblood-drenchedstonestilllyinglightlyonthepalmofhis lefthand. ItistheheartofHamlet.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XVI)

CHRISTMAS‘77

Todaythefabulousboyisborn, ‘Neaththecriss-crosshedgehelies, Blood-dropsonthewildhawthorn Hangbetweenhimandtheskies: Jewelled,amilk-whiteunicorn Piecesthebabyashecries.

Todaythefabulousboyforlorn, IntheTemplecircumcised, Bloodbedewed,thecruciform Infantonthealtarlies: Rubiesrounditsgoldenhorn Sparkleinthecreature’seyes.

Todaythefabulousboyistorn, Stretchedout,opentotheskies, Bloodrunsdownhismilk-whiteform, Slowly,painfully,hedies: Thefabulousdeadunicorn ShallbewithHiminParadise.

THEFEBRUARYPOOL

Beneaththeglassysheetoficehisbodyliesfloating. Hisheadisperfectstill,close-cropped,unmoving. Thewinterhasendedhisabstractrunning. Deadeyesstarethroughfrozenwater,mirrorthesky. Heissafe. Februarywindswillpassover

Thefrozenpool,unruffled. Sleeping,hewatches Thedistortedlandscapeofoursuffering

Likethechildhewillalwaysbenow;sees Onlytheunregardedwintermomentofthedeath Herantowardseagerly,whenfamiliarthingsbecame Strangeandcomforting,achoiceforeverbeyondhischoosing.

Throughthesuddenicehehearsthedistantwordsofangels; Sees,intheunexpectedwonderofablueicesky, Theirpassingimagesreflected;soarsabovetheice; Joinsthemintheirunrecordedflight;acknowledges, Reluctantly,hisultimateseasonwiththedead.

FROMTHEANGLO-SAXONCEMETERYNEARDOVER

I GRAVEOFAWARRIOR

Sunkindeath, thelineamentsofhardsoldierflesh aretracednowbythebone’sfragilityhisskeleton, safefromtheultimate democracyofdeath, markedoutatcrucialpoints bythefragmentsofatransitoryfame, oxidisedbuckleandsword-blade, wristletandshield-bossandfastening-pin, sterilestarsofhispuissantsummer, emblematicconstellations immutablenow inthezodiacofrustandearth.

II GRAVEOFARICHFEMALE

Rich,respected Anglo-Saxonmatriarch, sureofyourrankandposition, nowyoumustdwell intheegalitariangraveonlytheamethystandgold broochatyourthroatremains, fasteningnothing; whiletheuselessfragment offlakingironkey stillkeepssafeyourlastsecrets, dustwiththeboxwhichcontainedthem, itsrustedlock fastshutagainsteternity

Christ,Marchishere.

Christ,Christ,theworldrenewsitself.

Springisametaphor.

Christisametaphor

Deathisametaphor.

Onlytheworldisreal.

Welivealittletime.

Dieintoeternity.

Christdiedinthespringtimeoftheyear

Ametaphor.

Christ,theMarchishere.

Christ,Christ,thespringishere.

EUROPEAFTERTHERAIN

Thecloudsarescattered Theskyisblueagain WhatshallbecomeofEurope

Whereshallwefindrefuge

AftertheRain

Inthisaridplain Insentiencecreepsover Thehumanbrain

Mankindisdying Theseobelisksremain Thisstratifieddetritus

Life-likeandstrange

Wehaveourinheritance Thelandscapeinthisframe Uselessnowassessing Thelossorgain

Thefloodhassubsided Theworldisnewandchanged WhatshallwedowithEurope

AftertheRain

MAYDAY

AmaidcameforthoneMaymorning

Theskywasstarryblue

Thefrozenmoonwaswaning Shesoughtthemorningdew

Shesoughtthemorningdew,shesought

ThebeautyoftheMay Thatdew-brightmoonlightbeautycaught Beforethebreakofday

Shewanderedovermoonlitpaths

Theworldwaslostinsleep Bendingshetouchedthedewygrass Secretwherewatersmeet

Shesawtheuniverseembossed

Oneverydropofdew Shesawoldage,herbeautylost

Andalltheyearswoulddo

Shesawherpalefacetremblingthere

Inthepalemoonlight Caughtineachdew-drop,prisoner Ofthatstarrynight

Theyfoundhernextday,coldassnow

Underacoppersun Stillbathingherstoneybeautythough Thelastdewwasgone.

EXEQUIES(XXXII)- ARTISTS (iv)

METAMORPHOSES

ItseemsIcanstillseehim

LongingforRome Dyinganexileamongbarbarians Prisonerofalostworld Existingonlyinhisunattendedmoments

Thus did he catch a gleam Beyond the hawthorn barrier Of white gravestones between The dark red-berry clusters And the leaves dusty green

Nothingcouldconsolehim Neitherthesimplekindness Ofthepeasantsnorthememory Ofthemarvellouschangeswrought Inallbutthedumbinstinctself

Thus did he tread a path Among the decaying tombs The same impacted earth Mute with ancient bones Whispering secret death

NowIcanunderstand Theutterdesolation Ofhisthriceexiledspirit Losttohimselfhiscountry Andthegodsofhisimagination

Thus did he stop to see Within an open grave The unthought of banality Ovid poet of change Without gods or poetry

OVIDAMONGTHESCYTHIANS

Nothingwilleverchange. Thelightofthelastsunset touchesthehighestpoint ofthehill. Wispsofmist

linethevalleywithblue shadows. Deadgreywaters mirrorhisflatdespair Hesinksontotheground.

Hislastmetamorphoses, thisgranddesolation complete,night,forever abouttofall,darkens thementallandscape, mutesthecoloursof aneveningwhich canneverbeaccomplished.

Thegreatblackmare, ashadowamongshadows, home-boundorhalted, waits: Willshare

alwaystheselast sharpcomfortingmoments, sharethemild eternalexileofpaint.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XIX)

Overloaded theLaxtontree hasdroppeditsfruit likeadowager ataball whosebrokenstringofpearls liesscatteredaroundher ontheground.

THEFACTORY

Thefactorystands inadesertofcommerce onthederelictbanks oftheGrandUnionCanal.

Comewithme, pasttherespectable redbrickfacade, pastthepanelledwood

oftheManagingDirector’s comfortableoffice, pastthequietdecorum ofthetypistandtheclerk:

Comewithme tothefactoryfloor; thesoftunderbelly ofourequality

Herecorridors ofcolouredtrays arefilledamidclouds offinewhitepowder

Herethepreponderant immigrantworkers witherattheirbenches overmouldedplastic:

TheIndiangirls’ goldapplique, flashinggorgeously undertheirdustcoats;

thenewlyarrived youngblacks, stillhalf-expecting tomake‘afreshstart’.

Comewithme, pastthetedium ofthemetal-room’s interminablebrassscrews,

pasttheclatter ofthewheelabrator, whereearmuffed andinsulated theoperators emerge likecreatures fromanotherworld, pastthepackingdocks andloadingbays, whereplasticparts arecleanedandboxed, whereendlessrows oflabouringfaces passthestages oftheiryouthandage:

Theoldmen, nearretirement, expectingnothing beyond‘thenextbreak’;

theyoungmen, impatientstill, tastingexistence inrough-houseandjibe-

humour theironlyidentity, horseplay theirultimatebid toretain somethingofchildhood, somethingofthemselves morelastingthan thefutile tattooedforearms, the“Love from Eddie, Mum and Dad”.

Comewithme, pastthefoulvapours thatissuefrom themouldingshop, pastthesacks ofplasticpowder waitingtopassthrough thefactory’sintestines, pastthecanteen’s suddenhour ofbustling transitorylife.

Comewithme, alongthedeserted towpath,whereonly thefourfoldpetals ofthehot-drinkcup blossoms,tothebanks ofthealmostderelict GrandUnionCanal.

Hereinsilence thegrasshasgrown sincethelastgreathorse lenthispowertothebarges.

Hereonthedead greenwaterway, detritus ofanotherage, thelighterslie attheirmoorings, stillbuoyant ontheebbingtide.

Theirnames,the “Liss”, the “Mary Brent”, the “White Wings”, echothepast.

Allareshrouded intheircovers saveone loadingmetalgirders. Theloading, slowandleisurely, islikethebreathing ofanoldman; eachunhurried exhalation alongexpected certainty

Alighterman, shirtlessinthesun, sitsbetweenloads onthebulkhead; likeSeurat’s melancholybather hegazesbeforehim, whiledistant factorychimneys belchblacksmoke intothesunny Augustsky

Hisreflection, inverted withthewhite, redandblue reflectionofhisbarge, shimmers onthewater, alreadyunreal.

Onlytheseagulls, skimminglow overthecanal, attainingtheheightrequired withafew swiftbeatsoftheir whiteandgreywings, sleekastheyglide, theirgracethegrace ofnecessity,purposeful astheshapeoftheirbeaks, onlytheseagullsarefree.

POPEJOHNPAULI

white prisoner visiting ournight pale moon reflecting otherlight JohnPaul yourtime maybe theSun’s noon-tied eternity

FORPAW-PAW

whenweheardthatyouweredead alltheclocksintheworldstoppedatonce

seeingyouthatlasttime yourtopcoatwrappedaroundyouinthedark thecoldwindmakingyoureyeswater smilingandwavingintheearlymorningstreet

accustomedasweweretotheseparationofgeography wewerenotpreparedforthiseternities

theclockshavestartedupagainnow atleastmostofthemhave

inthelastnoteyouwrotetousyousaid Darlings - the only thing I’m living for now is the thought of seeing you all againthat’s the one dream I have left _____

EXEQUIES(XXXIV)- ARTISTS (v) TRIPTYCH (i) ROBERTLOWELLREADING

(MermaidTheater,Sunday29thNovember,1970)

HisvoiceisdryandlightasLiebfraumilchLikeanarchitectrevealingthedark difficultcornersofsomelongfinishedwork, detached,ironic,almostdiffident, hepausestoexplainaword,aline; thesymbolofthemoon-struckmotherskunk. Awakenow,scanningmetriccertainties, historyisadreamhecancontrol. Arandom,banalquestion,suddenly heisnolongerwithus. “Nothingcan justifyasuicide.” Hisanswers, desultorynowaboveourseaofheads, risewiththeridingbubbleofapast thathecannotforgiveorbeartobreak.

ROBESPIERREANDMARYMcCARTHY

(AnImitation:afterRobertLowell)

Sheisstillflyinginthefaceoftime. Hemindassharpas la guillotine, ontheblocktheheadsthatstoodagainsther willkissinthebasket. Everyoneknows thedramaenactedontheT.V.screen isnottheoneherall-cleareyeshavewitnessed overVietnam-Brünnhilderidingout, notforwarriorsbutasawitness, tellingWotanhisworldisallawry Likeaman,unhysterical,precise; likeRobespierreyoujustify la terreur thatmustcome. Hascome. Mary,myfriend, Yourclarityhammersmyheartintothegrave. Togetheroursoulsbeattimeastheydecay

ROBERTLOWELL (1917-1977)

Awintersun, lowonthehorizon, moltenthroughthelong bareblacklineofskeletontrees, isstrongandoftheday.

Inthewest, theshadowypale ghostofamoon fadestothecolourofsky, ofblueimmensity. Alongtheearth, fixedtothepavementinnegative, myshadowmarches,moon-struck, towardsmidday

URBANLANDSCAPES(IX)

THENEWFACTORY

Vacant,unfinished,bare, smellingofrawcement, ofconcreteandpaint,the newfactoryhasanair ofinterruptedlife, anatmosphere,almost apulse,asofrecent arrivalordeparture. Anabandonedladder, angledagainstawall, bisectstheemptiness. Eightreddoorsopen ontoasunlitcourtyard. Fivearetightshut. Three standajar,thegreenpaint oftheirinnersurfaces halforwhollyrevealed inbrightprimarycolour Halforwhollyrevealed also;thedark,hollow door-mouths,empty,silent. Overhead,ajetplane, likeapale,silvery spider,drawsitsfineweb ofvapour-trailbehindit. Thedistantengineroar fadesagainstthedepthless blueofthewintersky

Mysharpfootfalls,cracking thesilencelikechina, leaveanintensersilence, avaguedisturbanceof theair,echowiththesteps ofafutureworkforce, almostmakemanifest theirnoon-dayghosts.

URBANLANDSCAPES(X)

THE NEWFACTORY-FAREWELL

Nodoubtthefactory wouldhavelookedromantic intheearlyevening, apalemoonoverhead, thelastlightstillinthesky Nodoubtitwouldhaveseemed liketheruinofsome oncetobecompleted templeofprogress, withitseightcloseddoors andabandonedladder themysteriousremains ofalostpeople;an impossibleenigma nevertobesolvedin theuncertainmoonlight. Nodoubt. I,however, hadatraintocatch,friends tosaygoodbyeto,a littlelife,alittledoor toshutforever;so Ideparted,scarcely glancingovermyshoulder atthelowmoon,before hurryingontowardsthebright lightedrailwaystation separatingitselffrom thesurroundingdarkness.

THESONGOFTHECOAT

Jaunty,twenty, acivilengineer inthemaking, Chrisisthefuture. Hisgrandfather’s IndianArmyjacket fitshimlikeaglove. Forty-sevenyearsold, pips,braids,insignia allgone,dusty fromunloadingthecontainer, itstillcutsadash asslimandupright hemarchesoverthebridge.

Hisgrandfather servedinIndia half-a-centuryagoaslim,youthful LieutenantColonel Chrisonlyknows fromafadingphotographonlyremembers intheveterans’home ofhislastfewyearsstillabletowalk fourmileseveryday afterlunch.

“Whenhedied, Nobodywantedthecoat.....”

Acrossthebridge, ahistorytoonear, Chrishshrinks toakhakiblur againstthesnow

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XX)

ATHOME

I

Inthered roomredlightisshed bythesolitaryeyeofthestrip-heater onthewall-themeter8 isfullnothingatall existsoutsidethisroomnoone opensorcloses thedoor-showsus thatglimpseoftheinessentialworldnoword fromtheelementaldarknessinthehalltheclocktickssoftlyonthewall

II Bacon,diced withalittlecelery, sizzlesinthewrought-ironskillet; itsaroma perfumesthemorningair Weareathome: Cooking.....reading.....listening..... allthedomesticingredients ofmiddle-classbliss. Outside snowisintheair; ourradiators donotquiteobliterate itspenetratingchill.

Atfirst onlythehurteyes arenaked, regardingus frombehind therespectable hatandtie ofhisearliest self-portrait. Later, masturbating beforeamirror, theballs areclutched betweenlong bonyfingers. Butnow EdithHarms isdying; watches impassively theunflinching Selbstseher ashesketchesout thislast preciousbastion againstmortality;

manifestes, inthesunken, empty, pillow-boundfeatures, adraughtsmanship strongenough, aresignation deepenough, areality intenseenough tomakethedeath mereincident whenseenagainst theconsciousstrength ofhislines.

Threedayslater, whenhefollowedher, thereremained onlythecamera’s indifferenteye torecord anunshaven, emaciatedface, exhausted withsuffering, staringout fromthestained, emancipated pillow.

INSCAPE

In weird luminous deserts grey shapes of fear cast their surreal shadows on the crucified silence

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXI) FORROSARIO

Spawned indarkprimordialearth, Leda,ourmother washedusintheseamyfather hidbehindacloud;yourfather boundyoufasttoItaly.

Darkened underdifferentforeignsuns, destiny stillplayedwithusyounakedonamudroofinTurkey, whileIbecamedrunken withtheconfusedsunlightofPanamaCity.

Travelling inmymind,asyoumoved throughlongdustydaysinIndia, softMexicannights andthegoldofCalifornia, we,meetingatlastinLondon, recognisedeachother.

Unique beforeIknewyou, nowyouspeak thelanguageofmysoul, myownsoul’sbrother, myfriend,myotherself, mybrotherCastor.

Poor mortalDioscuri, offeringeachother onlyourmortalityhadIthefaith Iwouldshareyourdeath, myeternity.....

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXII)

Atnineo’clock,thesun, enormousandgolden,emerged fromcloudsonthehorizon, hungforafewmoments likeagreatmoltengoldenball, thensunkoutofsight behindthefalsehorizon ofsteelygreycloudbanks.

Somethingremained.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXIII)

Thereisaflowerthatblossomsonlyindarkness,onlyincavesorthedarkestrecessesof disusedmines. Nomanhaseverseenit. Inthefulllightofdayitwithers,asitwithersin theartificiallightoftorchesorofminers’lamps. Somesaythemerestglintofaneye destroysitutterly. Manyhavesenseditthough;havefeltitsunseenpresenceinthe darkness,inthedeepestshaftsofunseenlabyrinths,strongerthanlifeordeath,itsfatleaves andlushpetalsseemingtomockthelightbywhichtheirunrealbeautycanneverbeseen. 30-June

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXII)

DOGDAYS

OncemoreJuly hastakenitstoll. Onmotorwayverges thedrygrassesturnyellow. Trees,aweekago intheirsummerprime,growtiredandsparse.

InKensingtonCemetery, half-glimpsedbetweenthinningbranches, thecolouredslabsofflowers,stillmasking thenewgraves,witherandfadeovernight.

AsJulyends allthingsseemtomounttowards somegreat,romanticclimax;eachhour promisestobearwitnesstoitsown,unique,

neverbeforepermitted revelation. Then,inthestaletwilight, westaggerfromthepub,watchourpiss frothlikebeerdowniviedwalls,

havingdrunkour farewelldrinktothesummerofpromise whichhasended,likealltheothers,enmeshed inforkingbranchesanddeadleaves.

Always the ribs show nearer the skin. In bed at night emaciated finger-tips play, ever closer, to the white ivories. Almost as if

one summer more could jerk away forever the whole, mad, complex machinery of flesh and bloodemancipate, crustacean-like, the hidden bone.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXIII)

Tenpastthreeandtime,theoldsomnambulist, Nibblesanothersecondfromourlife. Thewormisinthebud,willnotbestill, Eatingawaythehours. Youthneverwas.

Deathisthemessagecarriedinthesperm, Danglesinballs,spurtsuptherigidprick, Swimsthroughthescarletseaofsecretblood. Deathisthedouble-helix. Fuckingdeath.

DeathistheGodinwhomweallbelieve, Deathisthefaiththatcannotletusdown, Deathistheabsentguestwhowillnotleave, Deathisthesummitthatweallcanclimb, Deathisthesleepwithdeathitsonlydream, Deathistheonesuccessweallachieve.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXIV)

DEPARTURES

Theducksareleaving.

Iheardthemlastnight, honkingoutsidemywindowinthedarkness, answeringacalloftheblood.

TodayIsawthem, emblematicshadowsinformation, movingformallyacrossanemptiedsky intoanunanswerablesun.

ItisSeptember.

Theleavesarefalling. Theairisbrightandchill. Inbranchandstemthelivingsap sinksslowlyintowinter; respondstothecallofitsvegetableroots.

WhenshallIanswertheCall? South! South!

Noargument. Noequivocation.

Toinfusemyselffully: Intolife. Intoprimalbarbarity Intothehouseofthesun.

ThreeyoungAustraliansinvade theearlymorningtubetoEalingBroadway, gauche,noisy, withtheiryet-to-besophisticatedblood.

Whiletheprimsecretarysittingopposite, definedbyherreadingmatter asaLatintagdefinesanurseryflower, isbyapostaldistrictclassified.

Butinthedarkeyesandcodedfeatures oftheyoungSouthAmericanwhoreads ‘ElCoronelNoTieneQuienLeEscriba’,

LineamentsofanancestralSpain projectthroughtheburning-glassoftime abrokenimageofthefuture.

Eastbound, aninter-citythundersby.

Istandmyground.

Mytrouserswhipagainstmythighs. Mycoatbillowsoutbehind.

Atmyshoulderstransientwingsunfurled willdryandstiffeninthesun preparatorytoflight.

Travellingwest,pickingupspeed, leavingLondon’spostalcodesbehindus, theendlessrowsofterracesgiveway toparklandandcemetery

Thereisonlyonedeparture: Betweenthebone-whitemarbleslabs afresh,rawgrave gapesinthewoundedearth.

NobodystopsatHanwell.

Wejourneyon. Thetwinribbonsofrailwaylineunwind, mergealwaysfarinthedeceivingdistance, seemstrongerthanthestrandsofaspider’sweb, silverywithpromiseinthesun.

GIOVANNI’SSEARCH

DonnaAnna isonething:herprim, sterilevirginitycolderthan hermarblevulvaandbreasts.

DonnaElvira isquiteanother:heroutrage magnificent,wereitbuiltupon arockmoreworthyofhonour.

Zerlina,however, isallwoman:teasing,tender, herlivehandintheDon’s eclipsesastoniergrasp.

MYTHOLOGIES(XV)

Thatsilenceamidthepoolsofgreenshadow.....

Thatgreensilence..... Thosepoolsofgreenshadow.....

Surelytheredbreastbleduponathorn, hisheart,piercedbysuchsilence,hadtosing.....

Inpoolsofsilence..... Inpoolsofgreenshadow.....

Andthestonesbledinthepoolsofgreensilence.....

Thegreenmossclungtothedarkearth, emeraldgreen,featheryonthedarkearth.....

Onlythestonesweresinginginthegreensilence.....

Andtheredbreast,hisheartpiercedbythegreensilence, bleduponastone.....

Andtheredbreastsungofthegreensilence, sungofhisheartpiercedbyathorn, sungofthestonesinthepoolsofshadow, sungofthefeatherymossonthedarkearth.....

Andthestonessanginthepoolsofgreenshadow, sangastheredbreastbledinthemossysilence, hisheartpiercedbythethornsofthedarkearth.....

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXV)

Againstthesun-washedredbrickwall

Theshadowofadoveinflight Appearslikeanautumnsentinel

(Fugaciousharbingerofnight) Beyondthecurtainedwindow, Thendisappearedintothenight.

Closingmyeyesitdoesnotgo, Butonthenowabandonedstage Withinmyheadavagrantshadow

Beatsblackwingsacrossthepage, Tracingthehieroglyphicsthat, Ifoncedeciphered,mightassuage

Thestrangenesstheirappearancewrought. Mypen,unwillingtotranslate Suchunimaginablethought,

Musteitherfalsify,orwait Uponatruthitcandiscern, Thenverbaliseandpunctuate.

IftruthwereshadowIthesun wouldpintruthlikeabutterfly Againstthepagesoeveryone.....

Buttruthschangeevenastheyfly, Arelostintheencroachingnight, Willlieasonlysnapshotslie

Themomentlostislostoutright

Thesunitselfcannevernail Theshadowofthedoveinflight Againstthesun-washedredbrickwall.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXVI)

L’IMPRÉVU

Deathwouldsurpriseusby itsunexpectedness hadnoteachlittledeath likeaparalysis grantedimmunity.

Sowemustallsharethe uniqueandcommonplace processoflivingwhere customhassquanderedour lastserendipity

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXVII)

Endingthebreathlessride Reachingtheriverside Scanningthewaterswide Knowingthemaphaslied

Crossingwithoutaguide Movingagainstthetide Feelingthesaddleslide Sensingthehorsehasdied

Breastingthecurrentwe Glimpsethedarksymmetry Ofthisstrangedestiny

Headfortheopensea Sniffourmortality Concedeavictory

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXVIII)

TRIPTYCH

I

ThosenymphsofS.Mallarmé, Didhedreamthemordidthey, Flickeringoverthelawn Createtheirownsleepingfaun, Whodreamsapoetatwork Dicingthemoutofthedark.

II

Lovebademelearnapoet’strade, Educateanapprenticedheart, YetwouldIplaythesoldier’spart, Laybloodysiegeandambuscade.

Truthwasthefirsttobebetrayed, (Pityandtendernessapart) Stormingthatbastionofart Withmusket-ballandsabreblade.

Breachingthecitadelatlast

MyMusehadwetherselfwithfright, Wascrouchedinacorner,legsapart, Wantingonlyafuck.

Iobliged.

Afterwardsshecried. Toldmehow Shenevercouldloveme. Itried Tocomforther

“Fuckme,”shecried, “Again. Now!”

III

Rilkewasgoingsteady TheMusesstoodappalled Whentheyweregoodandready Hisangelicvoicescalled

THEDEATHOFOSCARROMERO

Stonesthebreadwetakeoutoftheovens

Doing this in memory of him Leadtheironenteringoursouls Parched now in the sunlight of unknowing

Spentbeyondthebullet’spunctuation

Doing this in memory of him Nakedundertheharshstarsatnoon Parched now in the sunlight of unknowing

Couldthecrackedadobeofourhearts Doing this in memory of him Drinksuchdangerousunconsideredblood

Excepthisbodycoldasbrokenstones

Parched now in the sunlight of unknowing Blasphemethegrammaroftheinjuredearth

ASILHOUETTEINPARLIAMENTSQUAREASHADOWINWARDOURSTREET

Agardeninglad hipslungtooneside strippedtothewaist atrestonarake bronzeintheeveningsun hissilhouetteone withthestatesmenandkings whichhistorybrings tostandwithhimthere inParliamentSquare.

Ayoungworkingman stridingalong twoplanksoftimber angledoveroneshoulder hisshadowforeshortened onthenoondaypavement liketheCarpenter’sseems carryingthosecross-beams tosomeCalvarymeet inWardourStreet.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXV)

Brownhair thecolours ofsoftfur andbrothers wewere together onthebus

Ifeachhair iscounted thennohair needeverbe saidtobe finallylost inasmuchas thesparrow cannever infalling makegood itsescape fromHis heavenlycare

Andyourhair clingssosoft tothenape ofaneck whichismine Omyson asIsit herebehind youaware

Thatmyhair almostgrey isthehair thatwasyours softbrown Omyson aswewere onthatbus

Thetawny softlocks lightasair inthesun

Whilebehind thecroppedhead andruffled greyfeathers thatfall totheground willbecounted byOne whosuffers myson thoughonly onehair onyourhead ifitfell andfailed tobecounted shouldever belost Brownhair thecolours ofsoftfur andbrothers wewere together onthebus

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXIX)

INNERLICHKEIT

Andthereisakitteninsideme wanderingthroughtheemptyhouseofmybody vainlyseekingitslostmother mouthstainedwithmilk

Andthereisaneagleinsideme strippingthemeatfrommyflayedbreastbone eyelidsheavywithself-love bloodonitsbeak

Andthereisagraveworminsideme lostinthewindingsofmytesticles blindastheirdarklabyrinthinecoils swallowingseminalprogeny

Andthereisanangelinsideme beautifulastheheavypetalsofroses voidinthespacebetweenribsandstars thatwillnotletmedie

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXX)

Early thegreyAugustlight stirsus half-awake.

Welie delighted, notwiththeprospect ofanotherday buthappy tobe onlyhalf-awake andgranted thesemoments spent ineachother’s company.

We aretheluckyones; theworldoutside adangerousplace peopled bymonsters outofourfirst faerie-book.

But,light filteringthrough these yellowcurtains, wearesafe aschildren whohavestumbledon acertainmagic.

Thealarm allows nosafety innumbers. Sensible wemoveaboutahouse peopledby itsoutragedsilence.

THEBRACELET

Notevenanyrottingvegetation. Detritusonly. Unrecognisable. Thebrokentoysofacivilisation.

Perhapsthatwasacar. Thatlengthofcable mayhavecarriedimmensepoweratitscore. Now,likesomucharoundus,unusable.

Thecityisdead. Wesquatlikenatives,score thedryearthhalf-heartedlywithbrokensticks. Butthereisnowater. Scatteredonthefloor ofanabandonedshelter,inadistrict setapart,wefindsomeoddpiecesofbone, black,jagged. Askull. Throughtheinterstices oftherib-cage,lyinglikeableachedhair-comb half-buriedinthedust,somethingglittering amongthedebris. Achain. Asilverchain, bright,delicate,stilluselesslycircling abonywrist. Islipitinmypocket. Onthecracked,drybedoftheriver,walking alittlebehindtheothers,thebracelet burnsmyleglikeahotcoal. Idonotknow why. Later,droppingmypants,wherethebracelet hasrubbedagainstmythigh,thegreyskinisnow redandraw. Idonotknowwhy. Donotcare. Isquattoshit. Nothingcomes. Asuddenrow ofblackandwhitepianokeysflashandflare inmymind. Attwelve,aftermyfirstfullday’s practice,sittingonthepiano-stoolwhere, myhandstwinedtogether,inchoatefingers throbbedoneagainsttheotherlikesmallheart-beats, aliveastheyhadnotbeenalivebefore.

Strangethetricksmemoryplays. Thepatchnowbeats onmythighinthesameway Withoutfires, wehuddletogethercloseonthehardground.

Thethrobbingstarsflameinthewindlessdarkness. Myheartbeatsandbeats. Theearthbeatsunderme. Mythighburns. Ithrustmyhandsinmypockets.

Thebraceletisthere. Lettingitsfiligree movegentlybetweenmyfingerslikelostbeads, Ilieawake. Alone,insilence,softly

fondlingthetreasure,mychillfingersburn andbeat,astheydidfirstthatdayyearsago atthepiano-stool. Myeyesfillwithtears.

Justbeforedawn,astonesinkinginapond, Ifallasleep. Softandslowthedreamappears outoftheblackness. Iamstandingalone

onahilloutsidethecity. Itisnight. Thecity,notthiscitybutmychildhood’s, stretchesoutbelowmeandthrobswithitslife.

Themotorwayscrossandrecrosslikedew-drops onavastglitteringweb. Brightbeadsoflight emergeandlosethemselvesagain. Everywhere

man-marksglowandtwinkledistantly. Buildings, bridges,palaces,monuments,thoroughfares, eachilluminatedinawarmgolden

light. Light. Ineverywindowlight. Rectangles, squares,rowuponrow,cutintothedarkness. Agiantbeehivehummingwithitspromise.

Waking,Iamweakandsick. Theothersstand inclusters,awkward,atadistance,consult likedoctors,nodtheirheads.Theyknowthesymptoms

Andleavemealoneatlastwithmybracelet.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXXI)

alone in thedark -nessat theend oftheworld (hearingthe branchesshake inthenightwind outside)towards earlymorning lookingdown(into thecoldvoid)atthe street-lampstillburning

(havingfritteredaway ourinheritedstrength withoutparsimony)

livingoninanempty crumblingred-brickterrace (circaeighteeneighty-eight)

onthetopfloorofadecayed houseinChelsea(alltheother floorsvacatedinthenearly

two-and-a-halfyearssincewemovedin) whydoIfeelhistoryatlast catchingupwithus(orisitus

catchingupatlastwithhistory)the VictoriaandAlbertMuseum isfloodlitatnightagainstablacksky

clearlyvisiblefromthenowcurtainless backwindowofthelivingroominwhichwe sit(bythefire)aroundthemealtable

(returnedfromtheatreorconcertoropera) tired(havingmountedtheeighty-sevensteps) butgratefultobehomeanddry(eatingdinner) and happy now as angels on the head of a pin

we(thefourofusstilltogether)lingeron anddiscusstheevening(inadesultory kindofway)thebighouse(silent)surroundingus

itsVictorianandEdwardianghosts listeningoutsideinthedarkpassageways (passingbackandforthasourconversation

fallsandrises)thendisappearingin thenight(whereineveryhumanvoice mustbelost)thelongnightofhistory

andIamhauntedbyavision deeperthanthisnight(theV.andA. havingjustswitchedoff)avisionof ourownbriefhistoricity thefourofus(onthetopfloor now)withnowheretogobutout

intothenightskyinto darknessanddeath(intothis eternityofangels)

whereweshallrelive(a blindingflash)nothingsave thisdancealongtheedge

of(ahmydears)our dancealongthe(what) edgeoftheabyss know(forever aloneatthe end)onlythis lastrefuge (ourlastsanc -tuary) and(more sothan ever be -fore) be

URBANLANDSCAPES(XII)

THECHESTNUTSELLERS

1

Thechestnutsellers, earlythisyear, standguard oneverycorner; muffledinovercoats, braziersaglow, springingup overnight, fullyarmed, fromthepavement.

2 Chestnutseller!

Tellmeyourname. Yourbreathstains thesunnyair oflateOctober. Areyoumerely winter’sharbinger, ordoyoufulfil adarker, moresinisterpurpose?

“Whyquestionme?

Ilookatyou andhavetheeyes ofRembrandt’s eighty-threeyearold woman. Youdonotask herpaintedsurface why. Inthequiet ofthegallery youacceptwhatIam.”

4 Chestnutseller!

Shuffling byyourbrazier; awaiting thenextcustomer withhungryeyes. Yourchestnuts emit onlytheghost oftheirwinterfragrance.

5

“Lookclosely! Look! Theembers glowlikehellfire. Thechestnuts blackenandsplit. Ineachfissure, floury,sweet, seeShelley’sbrain exposedupon thatmemorablebeach.”

Chestnutseller!

Bodiesburn andcrack,skulls contain,perhaps, onlythekernels ofdeadthoughts. Yetcannibals devourthebrain, hopingtogain thedeadman’squalities.

7 “Lookagain! Look! Askyourself:can anyfugitivethought leapheavenward fromthechestnut’s deadwhiteflesh? Thehammer-blows demolishingitsfrail, protectiveshell,did anyofJoeOrtonremain?”

8 Chestnutseller! Musttheskullcrack eitherfromGod’sheat orLove’shammer? Mustwesquander deadcells tooblivion,offer thespiritIncarnate foratransient, emptyglory?

“Enough!

Knowevenofhell thereisnocertainty. Thechestnutsareready Lettheflavour oftheirwarmflesh, likeChrist’sBody inyourmouth, bepartofyouforever Come! Buy! Eat!”

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXXII)

thetick-tick-tick-tick-tick oftheclock isclosetomadness thedeep breathingofthedead closerstill thedarkness ofGod isveryclose tothedarkness ofmere oblivion andIam closetodeath tomadness tothedead breathinginthedarkness ofmereoblivion toGod ‘s ticking clock

LEAVING

Thedoves, returningtonight, havecometosaygoodbye: wingsdelicategrey, collaredinpurewhite, theyfly tothebranch oftheirfamiliartree, perch sidebyside, somuchatease ineachother’scompany thatImuststandby (forthelasttimeperhaps) andwatch inthewindlessdusk how,stillaschinaornaments, theyfade, becomeone withtheunanimoustwilight.

Pluck the live hairs from the protesting chin, still the dark beard grows white, (to match every black hair a grey): nothing can keep at bay the encroaching night.

EXEQUIES(XXXVIII)- ARTISTS (vii)

KEATSDYING

Admittedly dying cannotbe verypleasantstill asuddenshock witheyes wideinsurprise preferable tothese interminable Romedaysnocomfort save mycomforting ofSevern.

IfIcould believe inHeavenbutno, itisbetterso, coughing theseredroses onthepillow.

COCKTAILHOUR

Thesmoke-grey glasscocktail-shaker isshatterednow pastrepair

Fifteenyears insecure tea-chestdarkness itrested safeamongspiders. Usedonce almostdaily, redolentofgin andvermouth; butthatwasin anothercountry, beforethelong darkhiatus. Sixmonths inourcosy newhometranslated carefully,put onashelf outofharm’swaytwicemore tobebroughtout, tostand frostedwithice

atthefestal dinner-tabletwicemore tomarkoff thepassing oftheyears. Nowsplintered jaggedsides curveup intonothingness, trace theunbrokenshape: acrumbling perimeter ofroofless half-demolishedwalls thatstilldefines aruinedbuilding once containinglife. Civilisations riseandfall. Loveisfragile. Weareallglass.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXXV)

WHOLENESS

Thisishowitis:afine powderysugarsiftingdown upontheground almondmeal,theplump yellowyolksploppedfromone half-shellintotheother, boundtogether withlove,becomeone homogenousmarzipanmiracle, whilethelightsiftsdown, asinsomeFlemishpainting, uponyourbarearms,andyourhead, inclined inanintensityofconcentration.

3-January-1982

1

Sandra,nowweknow

Theworstthatlifecanhold, Theworldandallitsshow Cannever,asofold Dazzleus,although Athousandliesaretold Tosufferingmankind: Seeingaglimpseofblue Weknowthegoodandtrue; Cannevermorebeblind.

2

Sandra,inourheart

Thesuncanneverset: Thatwhichhasnostart Canhavenofinish-Yet Ducksuponthestream

Wesingourlastsongtwice, Knowingallwehaveseen Prefiguresloadeddice, Knowingwhatwehavebeen PredictsaParadise.

Sandra,wehaveseen Whatnooneelsecansee; Sandra,wehavebeen, YouandBreckandme, Livinginanage Ofmiraclesonearth, Andnownomoreshouldrage Andweepingprayfordeath Thaninhisgoldencage

Thesingingbirdshouldcurse. 4

Sandra,westepout Intotheskyatnight, Sensingallabout Thingsthatwillcatchthelight Whenmorningcomestopace AcrosstheLondonmiles, Wheresunlitwing-tipstrace Theirhieroglyphicsmiles, Andgoldenmartyrsgrace ThesteepleofSt.Giles.

CANCERPATIENT

Thetelevision documentaryfilm willbehere longafterheisgone.

Heisscarcelymorethanaboy yethaggard,unshaven, (hisfacecontorted withapain thatwillcease onlywhenheceases) doesnotmind thisrecordofsuffering being hissoleposterity; doesnotmind thewatchersathome (eveninsome unimaginablefuture whereheisnot) seeingthetears springtohiseyes ashistumorouslegs areprobedandtested;

doesnotevenmind theimpassivelens, depthless astheEyeofGod: mindsthough tocupbothhands overhiscrotch, claspingthesheets, holdingthislast vestigial scrapofmodesty (theinsignificant exposure ofacommonmanhood) tobe ofanimportance withhislife.

Whileathome wesmile,involuntarily perhaps,ofasudden glimpsing onlywhatisours; evenasweglimpse (inhiseyes suddendepthlessness)

theultimate exposure whichwillbeours yet.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XXXVII)

Happyaswewere, Death,theuninvited Guest,wasalwayspresent;

Nowhascomeanddone Onlyhisworsttous, Andatlastdeparted.

Whatwasonceafear Becomeacertainhope: Thatatleastissomething.

Deathcannotwin: Cantakeatrickortwo; ThewholeGamenever

WeholdthewinningCard Once,twice,perhaps; Misunderstandthesignals.

GodhasalltheTrumps, PlaysthemasHewills, HisHandalwayshidden.

Butprogressisslow: Hardastheacceptance Ofourownoffences.

Icouldnotloveyoumore Unlessmysoulhadbeen Ofafinersubstance:

Couldnotrecognise ThethingsIsoughtalone Whichwereinyoualways.

Wewereonemylove, Ofonebeingandsubstance, Till,byGoddivided,

Searchinginmyself, Findingonlydust, TheBreathofLifedeparted,

IknewtheSoulasyours: Praythatitrisingteach Mydust-blindspiritlove.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXVII)

Alwaysawake, Everatrest, Sleep,mylove, InJesusChrist.

Half a lifetime. Spent! Inlovewith. TheIdea. OfArt? Ofbeinganartist. Extractingthegold from the baser metal. Futile attempts. Frantic inopportune efforts. To stop the clock. Freeze the fluid moment. Lend ‘significance’. Spurious. In the end. The onlytruesignificance. Not earned. Onlyevershown. Alwaysfreelygiven.

Having played too long. In the labyrinth. Of creation? Pursuing the ‘Ideal’. Forgetting. At length. That the Game. Even if cornered. Or won. Still fatally flawed. Half-beast. Fool’s gold! Always.

All sight lost. Through long habit. Of mind? Fake quality. Of the whole process. Always. Fine fragments of irritant. Deliberately introduced. Chastely meticulous stimulation. Layer upon layer Coating. Covering. Building. The small pearls of culture. Produced! Smooth. Comfortable. At regular intervals. Immortal diamond ‘immortalised’. Become carbon dust. And the horror of forgetting. That the immortality always sought for Was never to be found there. Butonly. Ever. Elsewhere.

Confronted now At last! Mutabilityofallflesh. Truegrit. Atlast! Workingitswayinto. The so secure shell. Sharp. Embedded deep. Flesh forced to react. At last! Truthfully. Secrete. The real thing. Thetruepearl. Aloneabletomakethepain. Bearable? Foralifetime. Notany mere crafted artifice expelled from the body ascetic. Howeverworthy. Butforcedtoadmit. At last! Only Always. Everything. The whole of a lifetime. Given! Nothing less. Ever Even vaguelyconsonantwith. Thispreciouspain. Thatperfectlove.

“Onlyinthiscanthedarknessbeaverted-------”

THEAPOTHEOSISOFPOLYPHEMUS

ThegreatSiciliangiantthundersstill. Theemptycraterofhisliquideye Flashedfireonce;stonesthatwouldterrify Liescattered,pumice-like,toolighttokill.

Thathelovesher,sheAcis,thegodswill: Thehothardlustnofleshcouldsatisfy Eruptingstreamsoflava,streamsthatdry Andcrustuponthebellyofthehill.

ShelovesherPolyphemusnow,andloves Hisreadyroughness,blindly,asheloved; InAcis’bloodhiswoundedbrowshelaves.

Poseidonloungesonhisbedofpearls, TheTritonsblast,theirlipstonacreousshells, Andnymphsandnereidsleapamidthewaves.

LAULTIMACÉNA

Irememberhardlyatall. Iremember,ofcourse,theBreadandWine, thetransubstantiation: Hemadesurewerememberedthat. Butofthemealitself,oddlyenough, Icanrememberalmostnothing. Therewasfish,mostprobably, meat,nodoubt. Butthese Idonotrecall. Afterthemeal,though, inthegarden,justbeforeweslept, onethingsticksinmymind whichnooneelsesawfittorecord: ThecheeseandbreadHeaskedustosharewithHim, beforethelongordeal, anofferIquiteharshlydeclined, having,asIthenthought,other moreimportantthingstohand. John, ofcourse,joinedHim;couldrefuse OurLordnothing. ASdidtheothers. Ialonestoodaloof,thinkingfood nofitsubjectforatimelikethis, withgreateventsimminent. Icanstillrecall Hislook,Hisacceptanceofmyrefusal, knowingnowmypettinessandspite partofHispreparation,makingsmoothapath forthegreaterbetrayaltocome.

FORGUY

Torackandruin hisdreamsallcome thestateandcrown withhimhavedone hisbowelsunwound hisvitalsgone hismanhood’semblem takendown thepeoplewarned thetraitorhung astraw-stuffedclown atoncebecome araggedicon oftheSon tohisFather’shome safereturned

ASHANDSNOW

Thechildren’svoicesfadeawaybehindme. Silenceconfirmsthis. Myfootstepsecho onthepath. Myfeetfolloweachother likeslightlydisobedientchildren.

Mysoulisdisobedienttoo,blooms unexpectedlybetweenrocks,putsforth greentendrils. Honeysucklesoonwillsend itssicklyodouroutintotheworld.

Strangethisworld. Anotherratherperhaps. Butinanotherwewouldfindthesnow.

Wehadanotherherenotlongago; Aworldofsnowwherefootstepscrossed,recrossed,

followedeachotherdisobediently Wedonotneedacrossofashtotellus thatwearedust. Childrenconfirmthis. Snowconfirmsit. Myechoingfootstepstoo.

Aflurryonthegrassandheisgone. Amomentearlier,later,andthegreen wouldhaveseemedundisturbed. Notragicaction disturbsitnow. Eventhebirdsreturn,

afteramoment'sstrangesilence,tofeed wheretheeventoccurred,acceptingitall nonchalantly,theirpointedbeaksjabbing, searchingalongthegrassyswardforworms.

WhycanInotaccept? Thissunnypeace astagefortragicaction,seemsallwrong. Ionmywaytothesupermarket tobuythemeattoeattokeepalive.

MyblackestfearsconfirmedItravelon, cultivatingstillastupidhope,whilehe aglimpseofpredatorybeak,brownfeathers, soarssquawkingaboveterrifiedshrillcries.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLI)

CHANGINGATSCHOOL

Thelittlechapwasquiteerect underhisshirt-tails;abully, withhissharpeye,didnotneglect toraghimunmercifully:

“Hey,lookatStewart’s,everyone! Haveyoueverseenonelikehis!” Theotherboys,easilyeggedon toobscenity,jeeredatthis.

Hefelthisfacegrowscarlet,hot, felthisballsbecometightandscared. Hetriedtohidehimself,couldnot; theypluckedathisshirt-tailsandstared.

Hisclothesweresnatched,ashoe,asock, hispantswereflourished,hoistedhigh: Reachingup,exposinghiscock, theboysgaveawhoopandacry

Betweentheink-staineddeskshisshorts hescamperedafter,butinvain: AboycalledPrince,aprinceatsports, caughtthem,laughing,andpassedthemon.

Themorehechased,themoreitswung andbounced,fromhisshirtprotruded; sexualshameandprideinone lefthisverysouldenuded.

“Quick! Sir’scoming!” WhenSircamein allwasquiet;hispantsreturned andquicklypulledon,coveredhim, althoughhisbulgingprickstillburned.

Andallthiswasinforty-nine, whenhewasten,orlittlemore; andyetthethingsticksinthemind ofanoldchapoffifty-four.

BLACKPOOLPIETÁ

Hisbodywasfoundonthebeachintheearlymorning.

Gullswerecrying. Therewasonlythesoundofthesea.

Hewasnaked. Badlybeaten. Eightofhisribswerebroken.

Therewerebite-marksonthebody Andsevereheadinjuries.

Hewastwenty-fouryearsold. Thecauseofdeathhadbeendrowning.

Hisbloodstainedjeansandboxershortswerediscoverednearby.

Therewasnoshirt. Hewasasinglemanwholivedalone.

MarytookhisbodyintoherarmslikeherSon’s.

BETWEENASCENSIONDAYANDPENTECOST

WAITING: FORJACKIE

Absencehere Ispresenceelsewhere Presencehere Isabsencethere Presencethere Isabsencenowhere Absencenowhere Presencehere

Presencelost Isabsencegiven Presencein Anupperroom Absencepresence Presenceinthe Absenceof Anemptytomb

NOTESFROMUNDERGROUND

(“ReportfromWenceslasSquare”byJiriMyš)

I am. Therefore I think. I do not think long or deeply. The effort is too great. And I have other things on my mind. I have to have all my wits about me just to survive. But I do survive. ThereforeIam. Ithink.

I have been here long. I donotknowhowlong. Timeseemstohavegotawayfromme. I lose count of the days. And the years. When I wasyoungmyeldersandbetterswouldsayto me: “Just you wait, Jiri, until you are our age. Then you will know that life is a serious business. Then you will think like we do.” But I have waited. And I am their age. And they are all dead. And my contemporaries have all grown old around me. And they all tell me that life is a serious business. But I do not know And I do not know ifIthinkliketheydo,ordid. BecauseIdonotknowhowtheythink.

Nothing ever changes. Everything changes around mebutnothingchangesreally. Only the surface of things. Allmyfriendsandcompanions,mycontemporariesasIhavecalledthem, say to me: “If you were married, Jiri, like we are, with children to bring up, you wouldrealise that life is a serious business, you would understand the changes that are going on around us. You would know what a terrible world we are living in.” But I do not know All I doknowis that change is the only constant in life. Therefore nothing changes. And the world has always beenterrible.

Once I had to avoid tanks. Now I have toavoidthehighheelsoftheladiesofthenight. Pardon my reticence. My contemporaries all call them prostitutes or whores. But I donotlike such terms. As they are ladies and they come out at night, I can think oftheminnootherway. But I do not think about them long or deeply. The effortistoogreat. Andtometheirheelsare aslethalasthetracksofthetanksorthebootsofthesoldiers.

I own nothing. Only a silver coin Ifoundonenightonthecobblesnearthecentreofthe square. I do not know why I kept it. Why I dragged it backlaboriouslytomyhome. Itmeans nothing to me. I donotunderstandthehieroglyphsengravedoneitherside. Idonotunderstand the eleven planed edges. But itpleasesme. Mycontemporariesallsay: “Jiri,whykeepit. Itis useless. Only takes up room.” But I hold my peace. I hold my piece. BecauseIfounditnear thespotwherehedied.

Andbecauseitsparklesinthefirelikehiseyes.

I said I found it near the spot where he died. This is not quite accurate. He died three days later in the hospital. But I try not to think too long or deeplyaboutthat. Iliketothinkhe dropped it as he ran flaming through the night. The night his day had become. Perhaps thatis why I keep it. I do not know. There aresomanyimponderables. Mycontemporariesnodoubt would all tell me: “Jiri, hecouldnotpossiblyhavedroppedit. Yearshavepassedsincehedied. This is a new world. Time has got away from you. You have lost count of the days. And the years.” This may well be so. But still I like tothinkthathedroppedit. AsIwatchitsparkling safe in my lair Because how can his dark flame of suffering ever be of the past. How canhis blisteringbodyevernotbenow.

But for now I have to have all my wits aboutmejusttosurvive. Amorseloffoodwaits near the heel of an old man two ladies of the night are arguing over. They will soon tire. And then my time will have come. I willscamperout,eyesalight,andbringitbackheretomynest. ThenIshallfeast. Ishalleatthefleshofmyburningboy. AndIshalllive.

EXEQUIES(XLII)

Icrouchbesideyourbody clutchingyourcoldhand,lettingstiffenedfingers imparttomysuppleones thecomfortdeathbrings. Yetsupineyoustilllie

inthewarmsummertwilight asyoulayonceundersnow Whydoyouthaw byyourlonghibernation thiswinterofmine? AtyoursideIcanfeel howveryeasyitis, myBelgianbrother,tosleepunderthestars feelingnothingbutahand whichpressesyourown. Doyouperhapswonder whyapoormortalcreature seekstocomfortyou,whoarebeyondcomfort? Whyheseekscomforthimself? Omydeadsoldier,myverviétoisefriend,

Bouzousleepsinhismusic asyousleepinbronze,farfromallbattlefields, andbyasleepremindsus thatitisnotveryhardjustbeingdead.

- Returning in high summer to revisit the war memorial at Verviers after hearing Lekeu’s violin sonata the previous evening. -

PARNASSE

CONTEMPORAIN (or) PARNASSUSNOW!

23-December-1980 (Firsttwenty-twolines)

21-March-1995/ 30-June-1995 (Restofpoem)

OMuse! Isingtoday,notofthewinter, thesolsticepast,ifonlybyasplinter, affordsmesuchreliefthatIcanbring mypenandpouchtocontemplatethespring. Spring! Theverywordislikeapromise ofrisingsapwithinthelimpJohnThomas, ofhalf-forgottenthings-theroundedbreast, thebumandbelly-Oh,andalltherest.

IcallonCliofirst,forHistory aboundsinsex,andasmymemory isnotwhatitoncewas,althoughIcan still,atapinch,recalltheyoungerman whorousedatnightcould,justbythinkinghard, rendertoErosservicebytheyard. Alasnow,evenwakingfullerect, Iknow,oranywayIhalf-suspect, thatitwilltakeadozenfantasies, someluck,andnotalittleelbowgrease, andmanythingswhichmaynotseem‘quitenice’whereonceasinglejerkwouldquitesuffice. Theprickobeys,therefore,yetneverlearns theoldlawofdiminishingreturns.

AndnowagaininageIliveandwrite, thetighteningscrotumoffersitsdelight, thefleshiswillingbutthespiritweak, andI,aRomanCatholicantiqueGreek, storinghisseedinsideamarblebox, evenonthis,thevernalequinox, mustliveinhopethatsomeDemeterfair, liftingmypenisfromitspubichair, shallcomeindreams,pullbacktheforeskin,thus: Thepreciousgruel,caughtbyTriptolemus withinagoldencup,theladshallsow infieldsofpaperwhichmypenwillplough diligently ThusshallIsublimate mysexbeforeIreachthepearlygate, andprove,Godwilling,that,againstallodds, theproperstudyofmankindisgods.

IcalledonCliofirst,andCliocame, butwithheralltheMusesinatrain, singingandtalking,fussingoverme asthoughIwereason;nomystery

IheldforthemasnakedthereIstood; andyetmybloodwascalm,myfleshnotproud.

Calliopethensatmeonarock and,glancingatthelimpnessofmycock calledtoEratowho,withonebarebreast, wasdancing,laughing,chattingwiththerest.

AsshedrewnearErato’sfacegrewsad. AndIwaspained,almostasthoughIhad offendedherinsomeway;couldnotlook onbeautysodistressed: Eratoshook withgrief: Istareddownatmylap,unmoved. Eratospoke: «No. Hehasneverloved anyonebuthimself. LikeThamyris.»

ButIcouldnotthinkwhoThamyriswas! Calliopethencalledtheothersround. «Thispoetknowsheisonholyground. Hisheartisfull. Hisbloodisbeatinghard. Andyetithasnotrushedintohisyard. Weknowhehasnotloved,likeThamyris. Andyetweshallforgivehimeventhis! Becausehehasnotloved. Somanymen love,withthecockfirst,laterwiththebrain, andonlythentheheart. Theheartmustlead. Thebrainwillfollow. Cocksknowonlygreed andshouldcomelastofall.» HereThalia raisedherstaff,Terpsichorehercithare, andtheyperformedadancewhichbroughttheblood straighttomyface,asinahelplessflood. «Sisters,desist.» Melpomenespoke. «Hush. Forthefirsttimewehavemadeapoetblush.»

«Itisunheardof,» Clio,laughing,said, «foranypoettoblush. Whenheisdead, thenheperhapsmayblushtoreadhisverse, whenitisthere,forbetterorforworse, andnothinghecandowillchangeaword. Buthere,amongusgirls,it’squiteabsurd tobeembarrassedthoughhisloinsarebare: Weseeintohissoul,theblacknessthere eclipsesquitetheblacknessinhisparts.

Lookatthepoets: Allthosetenderhearts beatingforhim,lookhowPercyBysshe, starknakedafterswimminglikeafish,

returnedtoCasaMagni,wherehestood framedinthedoorway,everybitasnude, assalt-cakedasOdysseusontheshore whenNausicaasawhim,likingwhatshesaw. ThusShelleystoodamongthefrillsandlace unblushing,thoughtheylookednotonhisface, shockingthemenalittle,certainly, butnotthegirls,notJane,andnotMary. Theyknewhimtoowell:ashisMusesknew hissoulandheartandbodythroughandthrough: Andheknewthattheyknewandfeltnoshame. Hesawthenakedchildrisefromthemaine andclapitshandsinjoy;whyshouldheblush whenalltheworldwouldseehismarbledeath atOxford;statuesknownoshameandhe, thoughlyingnakedforeternity, hadknowntheshameofsomethingfar,farworse: Thisjinglingfoodforoblivion,calledverse.» «Enough.» Calliopeclappedherhands. «Enough. Youhaveanaxetogrind. Don’tbesorough onangels,ineffectualthoughtheybe. YourownfriendRobert’sbook,called“History”, wasjustasuseless;intheendcamedown equatingtheworld’shistorywithhisown.» «That’snotfair. Orgrammatical. Orjust.» «Norquitesotautological,Itrust.» «Enough,youguys!» Thaliaspokeup. «Right. Aboveallletustrytokeepthingslight. Ourpoethere,whatwillhethinkofus? Justlikeapairoffishwives. Whatafuss. Bequietnow.» CalliopeandClio lookeddaggersateachother: Onecouldsee,though, thefaintbrightsmilethatplayedabouttheirlips. «Comeon,youguys. Thispoetneedssometips. Lookathimsittingthere,plainlyaman fashionedinthelikenessofRodin, yetfleshandbloodforallthat. Youmustknow thatwhenheplannedthispoem,longago, heaskedmyhelp,notyours: Themetre,line, thetoneandsetting,allofthemaremine. Andyet,» AndhereshelookedatClio,hard. «hecalledonyoufirst. Menarequiteabsurd.

Andpoetsmorethanmost. Look,youcansee thewayhe’ssitting,sodejectedly, withallofushere,readywhenhecalls. Ifitwasn’tforthatsturdypairofballs betweenhislegs,thatcocksolimpandtender, I’dbehardpressedtofigureouthisgender. Butlook! Againheblushes. Thatmustbe Arecord: POETBLUSHESTWICE.» Andshe spokeintheheadlinesofthetabloidpress. Melpomenethenrescuedme,Iguess, fromutterdegradation. «Stopit,girls. Iknowhimbest. Thegritthatbringsforthpearls I’vehelpedhimcovermanytimes. Butnow, thenacreoussubstancefailinghimsomehow, theonlypearlsthispoetcanemit arethosebrightpearlsofproteanatthetip ofthatpatheticphallus. No! Noshame! Ionlyspeakyourthoughts,givethemaname. Iloveyoustill,becauseyoulovedmeonce. Youyetmayloveagain,yousillydunce! Achelouswasjustlikeyou,whenwelay besidetheriver,allthatsunnyday: slowtoarouse,butwhenheflowed,heflowed. Butlookwhatcameofthat! Thatrecklesscrowd ofdaughters. Sillygirls,theyeventhought tochallengeusinsong. And,forthesport, wepluckedthembaldasoven-readybirds andsentthempacking. Atalossforwords theyfledtoCapri,theretohidetheirshame amongthejaggedrocks: Theynevercame backfromSorrento,bethatasitmay, andmanysailors,voyagingthatway, piercedbytheirsongandplungingoverboard, beganaslovers,endedupasfood. Odysseussurvivedthem,itistrue, bystoppinguptheearsofallhiscrew withwax:hehadhimselflashedtothemast andlistenedtothemtillthedangerpassed. Alas,heshouldhavethoughttobindhisthighs! Hisphallusroseup,bulgingattheskies, becameasecondprow;andallthemen, withspeculationlewdandribaldsong,

madefreeplaywiththecauseofsucheffects.

Hecoulddonothing,naked,withhissex harderthanithadeverbeenbefore.

Ahorse,adonkey,couldhavedonenomore.

Aman,erect,infrontofothermen!

Poet,youknowthereisnoothershame compareswithit;nomockingMuseswho, beinggirls,knowpenis-envythroughandthrough. Womenaresoftandlovesoft,tenderdicks, butmenarehardandbrutalastheirpricks.

PoorArthurfoundthatout,weknownothow: hefeltthecaporalspatonhisprow, hisheartcorruptedandhisyouthbetrayed, butnevercouldacceptit,I’mafraid.

Poet,youmustaccept,foronlythen you’llgainacceptancefromtheworldofmen, ifthatiswhatyouwant. Odysseus, acceptancegainedandallhisperilspast, toIthacareturned,andinhisbed Penelopebesidehim,foundtheblood wouldnotrushtohisprick,couldnotperform tiiihehadheard,no,nottheSirens’song orCircie’s,butthesongthesailorssang: Thatcrudereminderoftheworldofmen.»

Shestopped. Andthencontinued: «Nowyousee whyIamtheMuseofTragicPoetry.»

«Wesee!» Euterpechimedin. «SillyMuse. Nowonderouryoungpoethastheblues. YouneversingthesongtheSirensings butharpuponthesmellyendofthings.

Goat-songisright. Forgoatshavesmellyends. I’mnotsurprisedyoudon’thavemanyfriends. Weallknowatthelastwehavetopay, buttherearecompensationsontheway. Thoughallthingsendindeath,thepoetyearns tohoneinonthegracefultwistsandturns, theincidentalharmoniesoflife; notallthisatonalityandstrife.

Helongsforlinesthatsing,forwordsthatchime: apoetmakesthewholecreationrhyme. Withmehisthoughtstakewing,hisspiritsoars; notbeatensenselessbythatclubofyours.

Iofferpuremusic,notyourspeech: Ireachtheplacesyoucanneverreach.»

Andheresheraisedherflutetoflutteringtongue, herfingersflewfromholetohole,yetclung aninstantlongerhereorthere,herbreath camefromaworldwheretherecouldbenodeath. Themusicsoundedsoftlytomysoul likemyownwillmadeperfect,turningcoal todiamonds,thentopurelightandair: NoCortot,Richter,Yancycouldcompare withthatdivinerubato;Chopinmight havedreamedofitasofaperfectnight, assomethingunattainabletoman. Whyspeakofitthough. Merewordsnevercan captureitsabstractbeauty. Suddenly Iseemedtohearthethingsweonlysee, seethethingswesenseandtasteandfeel, silencebetweensoundsmorerealthanreal, suchasOurBlessedLadymighthaveheard whenGabrielannouncedtohertheWord. Itcouldnotlast. Eratosawtothat. She,wearing,asitwere,anotherhat, hergriefreplacedbysuddenjealousy atmydesertion,winkedatTerpsichore, andtheybeganaslowandgracefuldance tomatchthemusic,breakingtheabstracttrance engenderedbyEuterpe’spuresounds. Themusicwasthesame,andyettheirhands, theirsinuousgesturesbroughtameaningin wherenonehadbeenbefore. Nowalltooplain themusicshowedasultryafternoon wheretheyastwonymphsdanced,whileinaswoon Iseemedtowatchthemboththroughhalf-closedeyes, morefaunthanhuman,hoovesandfurrythighs twitchingasthoughinsleep,ananimal dreamingitselfaman,moresensual thaneither;nay,Iseemedademi-god whohadcreatedthem,ademi-god whodreamedthemintolifeanddreamedtheirdance; whodreamedeachgestureandeachatticstance. Themusiclingeredonthelanguorousair. Euterpedrewnear,aimedherfluteatwhere

mylegsforked,gentlymovedfromsidetoside asiftocharmacobra,orderide itslistlessnessandlackofbulginghood: Ifeltmygroinreleaseadropoffluid, feltitsobscurepassagetotheair Thalialaughed. «Lookgirls! Idodeclare. Thespirit’swilling,thoughthefleshisweak. Ireallydobelievehe’shalfaGreek. Ourcobraherehasgotoneglitteringeye likeCyclops,andhecannotkeepitdry: PoorPolyphemus’eyewaswetwithblood; thispoet’sgivesoutlubricatingfluid. Nowomanwouldrestsafelyinherbed ifhecouldonlyliftthatheavyhead; butthereitlies,alimpwormontherock. Itellyouguys,ifIhadsuchacock,» andheresheheldherstaffbetweenherlegs, «I’dgetadialoguegoingwithmyeggs, notleavethemdanglinginthatbagofskin. Howaboutanerection,tobegin.» andheresheraisedithigh. Melpomene liftedherclub,asifdefendingme fromsuchbucolichumour,andtheysparred likenakedteenageboyswho,yardtoyard, testtheirnewmanhoodinthechangingroom, aweapondroppeddecidingwhomshallwin. RathboneandPowercouldhavedonenomore! Calliopethenstoppedthem: «Whatabore youtwogirlsare,withthatstaffandthatclub. Whichofyourartsisbest? Ay,there’stherub. Ourbard,likeallbards,lovesthemequally. Heneedsyourhelp,notyourantipathy Heknowsnotwhathewrites,andyetheknows hemustwritewhathemust. Andsoitgoes!

TerpsichoreandErato,you’rethesame. Youseemtothinkthatanything’sfairgame. AllthosecavortingnymphsofMallarmé. Euterpe,you’reasbadinyourownway. Goodbye,girls! You’vealreadyhadyourfun. He’sgonetoseetheshadowyoubecome. Leaveitatthat. Thispoet’ssomethingelse. Hecannotimageanybuthimself.

Andhecannotfollowanantiquedrum. Otherswilldothat.» «Rum-tee-tum-tee-tum.»

Here,beatingphantomsticksonemptyair, Polyhymnia,withmock-heroicstare, Uraniabehindherkeepingtime, marchedupanddowninmilitarymime. «Tee-rum-tee-tum-tee-tum.» «Ohstopit,do!

Ireallyhadthoughtbetterofyoutwo.

Ishouldhaveknown,youralwayslookingup, yourmeditating,wereacover-up: Thatsilencehidesamultitudeofsins. Youknow,wherevirtueends,therevicebegins?» Calliopelookedatone,thentheother, chidingthemasgentlyasamother. Bothgirlsweresilent: Polyhymnia herfingertohermouth;Urania hergazefixedontheskies. «WhatcanIsay?

I’vetriedtowatchyougirls,inmyownway. Beingeldest,andyourleader,youmustsee Ifeelagreatresponsibility

Andnowthispoetcallsyoutohisside, thenakedbridegroom,youtheblushingbride. Heneedslove’sgentle,coaxing,subtleways. Lookatthewaythatallofyoubehave!

Youactlikebawdywomenoutforgain; likeScottishmatronsholidayinginSpain. Surelyyourhardheartsmustwithpityfill seeinghimthere,sonaked,vulnerable. Whatisamancomparedtous:athin layeroffatjustunderneaththeskin withoutthefleshtokeephimwarm:hisballs, nottuckedawaylikeourstronggenitals butdanglingloose,liabletoanyhurt:

IknowI’dhidethemunderneathmyshirt ifIhadany;thinkI’dgoquitemad wonderingiftheywereallright:justasbad thelimppatheticphallusinbetween, protectedonlybyasheathofskin frominjury,withJewsnoteventhat: keptinaboxwhentheygointobat.

Nowondermenlikebeingpartofateam, boastingandshowing-off,sharingobscene

stories,bathingtogether,oneoftheboys, treatingtheirprivatepartslikechildishtoys theyplayedwithonce,alone,inbathorbed. IthinkIreallyratherwouldbedead thanbeaman.» Shehereherstyluspressed, firsttomybelly-button,thenmychest.

«Lookathisnavel,girls,soneatandclean, yetineffectsosterileandsomean: Ittakeswhatitcanfromusbeforehisbirth, sucksatourcalciumforallit’sworth, yetit’saone-waysystem;oncehe’sborn it’suseless,savehistorsotoadorn. Youthinkthat’sbad? Well,takealookatthese! Hisnippleslooklikelusciousstrawberries, onelongstosuckthem,getoutalltheirjuice. Butsuckthemhard,they’restilloflittleuse. Solikeaman! I’llbetyouevenmoney you’llnotgetmilkfromthem,orfromthis,honey.» Andhereherstyluspointedoutmypart.

«Isaidmenlovewiththisfirst,thentheheart. I’msorryforthemreally. Lookatit. Whenit’sinsideusit’sacomfyfit, welovetofeelitplunginginandout: butonceit’sgoneoff,what’sthefussabout! Theypullitoutandit’saslimpasstring. Itisn’tfitfordoinganything butpeeing;sowehavetowaitandwait. Idon’tblamegirlswho’drathermasturbate. Manisnomatchforwoman,sexually: Natureneverintendedhimtobe. Buttrytotellhimthat. Hishacklesrise. Heneverseeshimselfasbooby-prize inlife’sgreatcomiclotteryoflove. Ifoncehedid,thatthingwouldnevermove buthangaslimplyasourpoet’shere. Ireallysometimesthinkallmenarequeer! Nevertheless,usgirlsshoulddoourbest toswellwithpridehismemberandhischest. Praise,firstofall,hisdresssense. Menlovethat. Theywon’tadmitthey’reoldandgoingtofat. Asuitcanhideamultitudeofsins: asaggybellyortoospindlyshins;

asunkenchestorbuttocksoversized; there’snothingagoodtailorcan’tdisguise. Solietohim. Tellhimhedresseswell. InsideeachmantherelurksaBeauBrummell. Yetgentlemanandsuitdonotmatchquite. Amanmustdresseithertoleftorright: notmadefortrousers,anatomically, hemusttakesides,ratherthanhangingfree. But,likemostpoets,ouryoungpoethere won’taskforhelpwhenhe’sinhisbestgear butcallsuswhenhe’snaked,allhisflaws exposed,hisscrawnythighsandsaggingjaws, hisshameandvicesondisplay,andall thegaudygushesoutthroughhissmallsoul. Poetsareallthesame:howeverbase, theythinktheirSinsdeservetheuppercase. Andsotheydo,dearpoet! Butbeware. Youthinkthatyouhaveletusseeyoubare? There’smoretoitthanthat. Youmustbewilling, OpoetwhooncetooktheMuses’shilling, toofferupthatfinalintimacy whichonlymother,wifeorloversee; or,tobemorebrutal,morethecynic, thedoctoratyourlocalV.D.clinic. Apoetplayedatmidwifeoncebefore: Sowewithyouhavenotdone. Thereismore. Weneednopassion,onlyyourconsent. Iseeyougiveit. Good. Wearecontent. Liebackalittle,separateyourlegs andraiseyourknees. Wewillnotharmyoureggs, Ipromise. Noryourtenderlittlecock. JustthinkofArt,andliebackonthatrock. Erato,youmustdothehonours,so. Rememberhowyoudidit,longago, ToyoungCatullus? Howyoutookhispart? Doitagainnow. Andwithallyourheart. Butskinhispenisgentlyasyoucan. Youknowheisnoordinaryman ButPoet;withhismindonhigherthings! Wemustbesuretogivehisphalluswings; aforeskinnimbusroundhispenis-head. Wedonotwanthimwishinghewasdead.

Andcarefulofyourhands:thatslimytrail’s nowdriedupontherock,justlikeasnail’s, butatyourtouchwillstarttoflowagain. Solikeapoet:lubrication enoughtospeedahundred-thousandsperms, butnotthesemenfortwodecentpoems. Come,gatherround,girls! Here,abouthisknees! Wemustn’tmissabitofthisstrip-tease.»

IdidasIwastoldand,supinethere, myelbowsontherock,watchedthemprepare asinadream: Eratocuppedonehand undermytesticles;theotherfound themid-pointofmypenis,raisedithigh soallcouldsee;nozepherpassingby playeduponfleshwithamoretendercare: Shepaused,asifreluctanttolaybare itsmysteries;thenslowlydidbegin retracting,foldbyfold,thelooseforeskin. Alifetimeseemedtopass:alifeanddeath. Ididnotdaretobreathe;theyheldtheirbreath.

IseemedtobeinEdenonthatday whenEvefirstsoughttofindwhatsecretslay beneaththeskinofordinarythings; seemedtopossesstheknowledgethathandbrings whichfirstshowedManthewhitefleshofthatfruit. Sheplayeduponmeasuponalute. Afractiongained,thenlostagain;theflesh exposedaninstant,coveredupafresh thenext. Itseemedtogoonhalftheday. Eventually,though,shehadherway, andwhathadbeenablinkingnether-eye stuckuptherehigh,ifnotexactlydry Theothersclappedtheirhandsinsheerdelight. Eratopulledtheforeskinbackastight asshecouldgetit:theoutlandishgland seemedlikeaflowerheldthereinherhand. Calliope,herstylusattheready, toldthegirltoholdmetherequitesteady, andfirmly,fully,deeplydippeditin: Anotheragepassedasshechargedherpen. Themovementinmewassogentle,slow, itseemedtotakemebacktolongago

whenIwasstillaboy;whenpuberty hadnotyetgainedcompletecontrolofme; whenlust,unfocused,seemedtolieinwait againstthetimewhenIcouldmasturbate; whenwordlessvoicesusedtoriseandfall butIcouldmakeoutnothing;beforeall theyearsofchildhoodshudderedtoacrash inthatfirsthomagetomyadultflesh. Andyetsheworkedaway,shepushedindeep, sothatmyglandsthemselvescouldnotbutweep, untilshereachedtheverybase,Ithink, brimmingthatinkwellwithitscrystalink: Tearsseemedtorisealongitsshudderinglength andyetIdidnothavetheforceorstrength tomoveamuscle,voluntarily; Ijustlaybackandletherdotome whatvigorousmalemightdotowomankind. Shesaw,Ithink,whatIhadinmymind, withdrewthedrippingstylusfrommytool. «Poet,youreallyareanAprilFool. Didyouexpectfrommearealorgasm? That’snottheMuse’sjob. Thereisachasm betweenwhatyouexpectandwhatwegive. Satisfaction! Thatcomeswhenyoulive. Gratificationisapartoflife, whetherinlover,handkerchieforwife. ButwhathasthattodowithArt? Youknow youreallyshouldhavelearntthatlongago. Artistoyearn,towant,andtoaspire; Artisallunsatisfieddesire; ArtisyoungTristanlongingforIsult; ArtisoldGolaudquestioningYnold; ArttellsofPelléasandMélisande, notsexualclimaxandahappyend. Ifyouhadwantedworldlysatisfaction youshouldliveintheworld,amanofaction. Butifyoutakeourshilling,youwillfind thatwearefaithful,loving,butnotkind.» Shesmiled,andlookeddownatmyswollenprick stillinErato’shand. «Youseethetrick we’veplayedonyou? Thestatewe’vegotyouin? Knowingyourbody? That’sjusttobegin!

Disclosingtousthislastintimacy offleshwasmeregunboatdiplomacy

Nowyouareopentous,wecanstart delvingintoyourpsyche,andyourheart. Wewantedyou,astokenmale,toknow whatthingitisyouputuswomenthrough. Nowyouarepenetratedtothecore: Youdidnotbleed,butgaveussomethingmore; yougaveuswhatwewantedallalong: Yieldingyourmanhoodtous,youarestrong andfittowriteofus,ofwhatwefeel.

Tireasesacceptedthesamedeal.

Erato! Stopit,do!» Erato’shand, runningthegamutofmyswollengland, wasspreadingthecrystalsubstancetillitshone, itsbulgingpurpleheadcatchingthesun. «Releasehimnow.» Calliopewasfirm butgentlewithher. «Hemustliveandlearn.» Eratolookedimploringly,andsighed; then,afteralastsqueeze,sadlycomplied. «GodsaveusfromthespecialisingMuse. You’lldrivethepoorladbacktoself-abuse.»

Calliopelookedskyward. «Zeusabove! Sheneverthinksofanythingbutlove. Shedoesn’tcareforEpics,History; forhertheheavensholdnomystery; musicisonlytheretosetthescene; lyricsanddancingalwaysturnobscene; thetragicorthecomic,qu’importe? aslongasherhand’sunderneathashirt.» ShelookedbackatErato. «Youmustsee there’smorethanjustEroticpoetry Eventhepoetsexuallyobsessed musttireofthathand,thatonebarebreast. Lookatourpoethere. Seehowitflags. Alreadyyoucanglimpsethelooseningbags. Thescrotumwasdrawnupsotightbefore thetesticlesseemedreadytowithdraw, whilewewerehardatworkkeepingithard. Iknowyoumeasurepoetsbytheyard, butImustmeasurethembyEpicscope: Howlongtheykeepitup,notaquickpoke.

Look! Howagainitrises! Onitsown! Withoutyourartfultricks,Icanpostpone itsshamefuldetumescencewithaword. Allthatmassageofyoursisquiteabsurd. Yourharassmentisfartooliteral: He’llkeepithardforme,withnohard-sell. ButI’llbefairtohim. He’sjustaman. Andthoughthemanisreadytoperform, anaestheticorgasmyoucannotfake. Justthink,tomorrow,howhisballswillache! Thinkhowhispoorurethrawillburn whennextheurinates! PoorLordByron knewit,Iknow,butthatwasfromV.D.; notfromanorganstrainingceaselessly afterathingitnevercanattain. NowonderNervalhadtogoinsane. Wemustnotdrivehimtoohard. He’serect. Notforthatlong,Imorethanhalfsuspect. Itstands,yetleansalittletoonethigh. Butlook! Mywordshavebroughtitbackonhigh, purpleandproudasanypoet’sgland. Quicknow,here,now-takeitinyourhand. Yourlefthand,Poet. Takethisinyourright.» Dippingherstylus,Ibegantowrite: Therosy-fingereddawn’sfirstraysoflight hadjustbeguntodissipatethenight when,fromherpillowliftingherfairhead, Auroraroseup... «God.» Thaliasaid, «Suchtiredrubbish. Ireallymustgo. ItoldthesametoHomer,longago. Buthewasblind,andonlymarkingtime untilyougavehimhisnextdeathlessline.» AnodtoCalliope. «Thispoethere isneitherfishnorfleshnorfowlIfear. Ithoughtusguyscouldhelphim,butitseems hissoul’sawashwithhisHomericschemes: Grey-eyedAthenesurelywillcomenext!» Then,lookingdown. «Iknowhe’sover-sexed; stillheshouldseethefunnysideofthings. Poet,knowthyself. Apoetsings bestwhenheknowstheworstabouthimself. Fancy,youknow,isadeceivingelf!

Trytoseeyourselfasothersseeyou: Lyingbackthere,nakedasastatue, yourkneesapart,yourprickinyourlefthand, tryingtowriteaPaganEpicand beaChristian,simultaneously

Thethinghasnot,willnot,canneverbe. YouwanttoloveyourChristmore,daybyday, yetalwaysPriapusgetsintheway; youwanttoseeHim,followHimmoreclearly, evenasitreachesyournavel,nearly: Christ’seunuchandPan’sfucker,bothatonce!

Melpomenewasright. Youareadunce.

Telemachus,dipinyourEpicstylus: You’llneverevengettoSandyPylos.»

Sheraisedherstaffupinaphallicway, tappedtheendofmine. «I’mtryingtosay: Althoughyou’llneverwriteanEpic,laugh! Thatholeismuchtoonarrowforthisstaff: Yourverytightness,glumness,can’tyousee? isinitselfthestuffofComedy.»

Theyalllaughedthen,Melpomenealone didnot,raisinghermasktohidehershame. Thaliawenton. «Comeon,Poet,smile. Tryonce,simplywithwords,justtobeguile. Thatrosy-fingereddawnstuffwasallright tostartacomedy. Sogoon,write!

You’veseenaworkmandiggingintheroad? Hedoesn’tsitabout. Hetakesaspade anddigs. You’vegotthatstylusinyourhand. Youdigwiththat. Youhaveyourfertileland readytodelve. ThehiddenstreamofFun bubblesascrystalastheEpicone.»

Ifeltmygroinreleaseanotherdrop, feelingitriselikesap,sawatthetop aliquidpearlemergeand,trembling, itssurfacetensionanunbrokenskin, waitfortheblessédbreak,betweenthosechaps bulginglikeZephyrus’onantiquemaps, glossyandfullasanypurplepeach, ripeontheboughandwellwithinone’sreach. Abouttodipmystylusonceagain, Clio,withblastoftrumpet,stoppedme. «Men!

You’reallthesame. Withnothinglefttohide, youstillmuststrutyourstufftoanybride.

Youcalledmefirst,nother Yourlineandmetre maysuitherbest,butHistoryismeeter towriteabout. Thereismoregravitas inhalfalineofmine. Butletthatpass.

YOUwerenotcutoutforlowcomedy; arestillinlovewithyourMelpomene whohidesherfaceinshame,seeingyouthus: AmocktoallofNature,andtous. No! Donotletitgo! Rechargeyourpen. ButwriteofHistory:theworldofmen inaction. OnlyIencompassall, frombattlescenetolowlyox’sstall, fromnoblenaturescaughtinsqualidstrife tobasenesshonoured: Allofhumanlife isthereforyou,real‘NewsoftheWorld’stuff! Youdon’thavetoinvent,thetruth’senough. There’snothinghumanalientomeNotevenyouandyourobscenity

TheEpicmerelycoversanevent, butHistorygoesrightinsidethetent thenightbeforethebattle;canobserve thingsCalliopeneverhadthenerve towriteabout: ThethingsthatHeroesdo inprivate,naked:havingagoodscrew, asolitarywank,beforetheydress inalltheirfilthyfineryfordeath. You’venoidea! PatroclusandAchilles. Thethingstheydidwithoneanother’swillies! Nowondertheywerebothsofullofspunk; NowonderbraveAchillesstaggered,drunk withfury,whenhispoorPatroclusdied: knowinghe’dneverfeelthatprickinside hisarseagain,henearlywentinsane: hekilledandkilledandkilledandkilledagain, yetfoundreliefonlyinhisowngrave.

PoorproudAchilles: Boldandbaseandbrave. TakeCleopatraandherAntony. Aworldwelllostforlove,we’dallagree. ButCaesaristheretoo! Wemaypresume tospeculateonwhodoeswhattowhom.

Epicsareformal,haveanaxetogrind; Historianshaveotherthingsinmind. Nopussyfooting. Everything’sfairgame. There’snothingthatHistorianswon’tname. ThoselettersNelsonwroteforEmma’seyes, fullofrawfeeling,nothingtodisguise, arepublishednowforeveryonetoread. LikethoseofJoycetoNora: There’snoneed tospeculatewhenwecanalmostsniff herfart-stainedletters,seehimjerking-off. I’mnotatallsurprisedthatHenryJames sentallhisprivatepapersupinflames: Hefelttheartwasintheworkitself, notwhathedidwithothers,orwithhimself. ButHistory’snotart,notreticence: Awasteofshame,notthespirit’sexpense, iswhatthenewHistorianreveals. Hehastothinkofsales,publishers’deals, andwhocanblamehim. Nowweallcanknow factshiddenfromusnotsolongago, factsseminal,withwhichallhistoryflows; notjustthelengthofCleopatra’snose butthingsofgreatermatter,farmoreweight: WealwaysknewLordByron’sheartwasgreat, butnotthesizeofhistremendouscock; weknewRasputin,notthebeautymark gracingthebaseofhisdistinguishedgland. Somanyotherinstancestohand thatIhavetroublechoosing. ShouldIlist Napoleon’spiles? Schubert’ssyphilis? Perhapssomethingsexiermightentertain? ThesemeninthearseofPaulVerlaine. ButwasitArthurRimbaud’s? There’stherub! WeretheyonespiritANDonefleshandblood? Theseothergirlsdon’tcare. Thepoetry isalltheycarefor. I,asHistory, amboundbymandate,notonlytocare aboutwhathappened,buttolayitbare.» Shesmiledatme,andthenlookeddownbelow. «That’swhyIliketoseeyoulyingso. Butreally,youmustjustrelaxabit. Yourforeskin’sstretchedsotightthatitcouldsplit.

Youknowhowsoreasplitforeskincanbe; Whatagonyitistohaveapee.

Youcan’tremainmuchlongerinthatstate: You’llhavetodetumesce,ormasturbate. Butlook! Itknowsthatit’sbeingtalkedabout. Attention!» Herehertrumpetshetookout andblewablastthatwouldhaveraisedthedead, muchlessmyscarcelyflaggingpenis-head. Itroseagainwithundiminishedpride: Thecrystalflowed,thathadsonearlydried. TheMusesclappedandcheered. Cliowenton. «That’sgotitup. Nowlet’sgetsomethingdone. Time’spassing. Andthepoemnotwrittenyet. We’veallgotmoneyonyou. Musesbet, youknow. ButHistory’sunforgiving. IfyouchooseArtnotLife,there’snomoreliving. Thatprickofyours,thoughfearsomeasaHydra,» andheresheraisedherportableclepsydra, «Time’sHerculesmustonedayamputate. Noothergrowsthen. Itwillbetoolate. Youthinkthat,onepoembotched,anothergrows? Witheverylinethespringingsemenslows. Youthinkerectionswillgoonforever? Thatyouneedonlyconcentrate,persevere, andwe’llbetheretostrokeyou,holdyourballs? Remember: Thatwhichrisesalsofalls: ThatLucifer,oncefallenfromtheskies, thoughwemaylongtohelphim,cannotrise. Yourprideisgreatashis,yourprickasgrand: Butdon’tjustsittherewithitinyourhand. Writenow. Ornotatall. Yourjuicesflow astheydidonce,alonglongtimeago. Thesapisrising. Branchesbudandsprout. Butspringisevanescent;summer’sdrought alreadycarrieswithitautumn’srain: Thatwhichislostmaynevercomeagain. Sosingyoursongwhilethereisbreathtosing. Morosaloneknowswhatthedaywillbring. Andtherearenoassurances: Theflood swellingyourpenisnowishumanblood. Theichorthatwillmakeyourverseslive Apollohasgivenustherighttogive:

Crystalitflowstolubricatetheway. Haveyouapoet’sballs,orballsofclay! Weofferyouaestheticinspiration: Youmustsupplythethrustandperspiration, theagony,thegroans,andthedistress. Ifyouwantpleasure,findanewmistress. Expectfromusnowild,ecstaticspasm; onlyasolitarysadorgasm. Andasknomore. WeMusesarenotkind, butifyou’refaithfultousyouwillfind weofferallthatwifeorlovergive: TheLifeofArt;butnotthearttolive. Weloveyou,Poet,evenuntodeath. Butseeknogloryfromushereonearth: Onearthweoffermadness,rage,despair; likepoetsatalltimesandeverywhere. Eventheart-work’simmortality remainsuncertain,withnoguarantee. Thesatisfactionistheworkitself. Tobeaconduit;thereisnothingelse worthdoingforthepoetwhohasknown theMuse’sstyluspushedintohisown.»

Sheceased. UponwhichPolyhymnia steppedforward;withhercameUrania, skieyglobeandcompassattheready Theirvoiceswereunited: «Holditsteady. OurCliohere’ssofulloftalk,herlover wouldneedtobeanotherCasanova tokeepitupwhileshegoesonandon. Reachfortheskies: WhenHistoryisdone thatiswherewebegin;nospaceortime tohemyouin: Monotonoussublime itmayhaveseemedtoherdisciple,but perhapshis‘madness’gothiminarut. Lookbehindappearances. KnowNature revealstoustheNatureofitsMaker. Whatmenhavedonetomenthroughhistory isinteresting,butlimited. Tobe seekingtheForcewhichliesbehindallthings, thesourcefromwhichourinspirationsprings, thatisthetaskphilosophersapplaud. Poet,looknottoman,buttoyourGod.

Writingofmantheinspirationflags, seehowthephallusdroops,thescrotumsags, evenwithallhertalkofsexandCaesar Butlook! JustnowtheleaningtowerofPisa, itstraightensasitstrivesfortheDivine: Itsmanshapebutametaphysicmime ofmankind’saspirationfortheTruth, likeRodin'ssculptureofthekneelingyouth, hisarmsoutstretchedtowardshisFather’slove, hiswholebeingstraininguptoGodabove: TheLovethatmovesthesunandtheotherstars canalsomovethepenis,itappears. Seehowitwrinkledduringallthattalk; nowitstandsupproudlyuponitsstalk.

Manisaplantthatturnstowardsthesun, risingtomeettheheat;whendayisdone foldinghimselfawayintohisgrave. Heneednotbeparticularlybrave, justfollownatureandobeyherlaws. Youmusthaveseenthosefloweringcactuses, petals,likeforeskin,drawnbackbytheheat, thehiddenfleshyrednessunderneath ofstamen,stickystigma,quiteexposed. Theydonotragewhentheirshortdayisclosed; accepttheevening’squietconsummation withoutrenown;knowingthemaleerection, whetherinhuman,animalorplant, canserveonepurposeonly: Nature’swant. Man,though,isdifferent;orsoitseems. AtleastthePoetis.» Andtheireye-beams strafedmyexposederectionpitilessly. Theysmiled. «WesaidthePoetseemstobe. Yethetoomusteventuallysubside, UnlessthePoet-BridegroommeetstheBride whosecavityhispartwasmadetofit. Donotblush,Poet. Weadmireit. Admireyourstamina;admireyou. Butcertainthingsapoetcannotdo. Hecannotturnbacktime,despitetheBard. Posteritymayreadaboutyou,hard andvirile,strippednakedbeforetheMuse; theymayerect,fallbackonself-abuse,

butyouwillliewithinthegraveofman, withoutabonetoshowwhereithadbeen.

Wewarnyou,Poet! We,likevisitingbees, maybuzzaroundyou,dojustasweplease withallthatprideofflesh,butoncethepollen isgone,wewilldepart;onceyouarefallen, wemustmoveontoother,youngermen: Dayspringmishandledcomethnotagain. AndyettheparadoxicalSublime comestomankindateveryplaceandtime. Alltimeandplaceishereandpresent;know thatwewerewithyouonce,arewithyounow, willbewithyouagain,ifyoushouldcall: Tobeforsaken,firstyoumustbewhole. AndifyouareinHell,wherenomoonbeams, noinspirationtroublethyourdreams, remember,unexpectedlyitcomes, nootherwarningbutthemuffleddrums beatinginsideyoualways,onlyheard whenoneofusrevealstoyoutheWord whichseekethyouevenasyouseekit. Thepoemyouwritewillbethepoemyouwrit once,longago,wheninspirationcame, butyoucouldnot,wouldnotcallitbyname. Wedidnottakeoffence,weproveitnow bybeingherewithyou. And,anyhow, ifnothingcomesyouwriteofnothing,than somethingwillcomeofnothingonceagain: ItcameforRilke,Mallarmé,ascore ofothers,feelinginspirationsoar afterajongabeyance;they,withall pridehumbled,heardangelicvoicescall. Theactofwriting,evenindejection nearNaples,speaksonlyofResurrection. Youmaynotrecogniseuswhenwecome, youmaythinkusafriend,acquaintance,one whokeepsthetill,perhapsthethirdwhowalks alwaysbesideyou,onewhostrollsandtalks ofmanythingsyoudonotunderstand, ofpropheciesfulfilledfromscripture,and tellsyouofstrangeandunconfirmedreports, until,reachingastoppingplaceofsorts,

youfind,withintheInnwhichlayahead, youknowHiminthebreakingofthebread. Remember,seekingus,weseekforyou: Andthereisnothingelsethatyoucando, beingpoet;nothingelseforuseither, beingMuses;justlookingforeachother, nowandintimetobe,untilthetime whenimpotencesetsin;thenyouwillfind thatthoughyouwritepretendingwearethere, theinkhasdriedup:dipyourstyluswhere youwill,inyoungerpoets’standingpricks, thepoemsarenotyourown. Therearenotricks, nothingthatyoucandotofoolyourglands: Youcannotfakethewayapenisstands. Intruthyoucannotfakeapoematall. Butevenifhehadonlyoneball, onedropofsementoejaculate, thepoettrulybornwouldmasturbate ifhewasthelastpersonleftonearth: needingnowombbutours,hewouldgivebirth tosomefugaciousbeauty;hewoulddie sendinghissky-bornseedbacktothesky.» Theyceasedtheirunison,together. Then Uraniawentonalone: «Myson. Icallyousonbecause,anartist,you remindmeofmyownlostLinus. True, youarealittleolderthanhewas; buthadhelived,Iliketoseehimas youarenow.» Hereshesatupontherock besideme. «Alwaysplayingwithhiscock, whetherathalf-mast,orfullyerect. Whilestillababe,Imorethanhalfsuspect, hehadahard-onsucklingatthebreast. Youcouldn’tkeephimdown.» Shestrokedmychest withonesofthand. «Heneverlivedtosee itflagging. No“Tobeornottobe” withhim. Mysisterslovedhimastheirown: Uponhispricktheyplacedalaurelcrown, andthereitstooduntilthedayhedied.

IknowApollohadtocheckhispride; buthewassuchadearboy,sowell-hung. IhalfsuspectApollocouldn’tcome

sofrequently,somuch,andsooncue!

Whatwasagod,madesecondseed,todo?

LookwhathedidtopoorMarsyas,flayed prepucefirst,becauseofthatfluteheplayed. ButmygöttlicherJungling,myLinus, erectsagaininyou,inspiredbyus.»

Mychesthairstingled,brushedagainstthegrain, mynipplesstoodupfirmandproudagain. Herhandsliddown,mynaveltoexplore; thenitmovedlower,toexploresomemore.

«Mydarlingboy,relax. Justletitstand. Ionlywanttoholditinmyhand!

But,asIhavemycompassandyourtreasure, oneineitherhand,mayIthenmeasure onewiththeother?» Herehercompass-point sheslidrightdown,intomyflaggingjoint, untilitstoodupharderthanbefore.

Myheartbeatasmygroinreleasedsomemore crystalfluidfromCastalia’sspring.

Myforeskinwasarubberyredring. Shestartedmeasuring,Iknownotwhat! Mypenisheldhercompassinonespot asshestoodupandslowlywalkedaround, describingahugecircleontheground.

IknowthatArouetwastoopolite tomentionsuchthings,yetthinkSwiftwasright tocallaspadeaspade,anholeanhole: WeknowwhereLilliputiansputtheirpole butnotwhereitwasputinMicromegas: AndSwifthasstoodthetestoftime,Iguess!

AsIstoodthus,testesdrawnupsotight thattheyhadnearlydisappearedoutright intothecavitiesfromwhichtheydropped, lookingforalltheworldlikethey’dbeencropped bysomeaestheticgelder;asmalldome eachside,andthewrinkledscrotumskinalone showingthatIwasstillaman;afew foldsofredskinthatIwasnotaJew.

Sheheldmetherewithherall-seeingeyes, castrated,asitwere,andcircumcised, circlingasIheldhercompassthus, urethramusclesfirmasPriapus,

feelingthepointrevolvinginmyyard, wantingtocomeyetwantingtostayhard, wantingtomakeapoem,andyettowait, wantingtofuck,wantingtomasturbate, wantingawet-dream,wantingtostaydry, wantingtoliveforever,andtodie, wantingababybornofself-abuse, theglory,jest,andriddleoftheMuse.

«Hey,wait,youguys!» Thaliasawmyplight.

«Isaidbefore,let’stryandkeepthingslight. You’remuchtooheavywiththatcompass-point: Smallwonderthathisjointisoutofjoint. Yourmeasurement’sapretextandasham. Youjustlikelayinghandsuponaman. Withdrawatonce!» Uraniaobeyed, slidingthecompassout. «Don’tfeelbetrayed.» Uraniabentandwhisperedinmyear «WetrytohumourThalia.» «Seehere!» Thaliawouldn’thaveit;hadtomock. «Nomoresweetnothingsinhisearandcock.

Iknowmystaff’stoobigforthatsmallhole: ButthereissomewhereIcanfitthispole.»

WhatshedidthenIhesitatetosay: Raisingherstaff,inthemostbrutalway sheforceditupbetweenmybuttocks’cheeks andrightinsideme;nocompliantGreeks wereeverbuggeredbyagreateryard.

Myowncockgrewincrediblyhard, bouncedupanddownagainstmybelly,then slappedsticklyasshepushedoutandin. Athreadofsilverglistenedinthesun: Thelubricationhadbeguntorun intomynavel,brimmingitscrystalcup.

«Thedoublesourceoflifehasbeenjoinedup.»

Polyhymniaspokealoneatlast.

«Thenavel,throughwhichallhissustenancepassed, nowfillswithlivingliquidfromthatpart fromwhichalllifemustspring. Andwhentheheart, touchedbythesetwowithfilamentsthatcling likeplatinumwebs,joiningeverything inoneecstaticnetwork,hasbegun beatingintimewithtesticlesandbrain,

thenshallthetrueaestheticsemenflow outofamemberwhichcannevergrow flaccidorimpotentorneedagoad: amemberwantingonlytoloveGod.»

Theperorationceased. Theothersstood, awkwardaroundher,silencedbyhergood.

AllbutThalia. Shecouldonlylaugh.

«MyGod. WeMusesdon’tdothingsbyhalf. Andjustaswell. Allpoetsloveextremes. HateAristotleandhisgoldenmeans.

YouthinkourpoetlongsfortheDivine? Ithinkhewantsaprickupthebehind.

YouwanthisseedssownbyTriptolemus?

He’dratherhaveApollouphisarse.

Yougivehimwhathethinksheoughttowant. Imakehimwhathedoeswant: Arightcunt!» Shegaveafinalthrust,withdrewherstaff. Anotherthrust,Isurelyhadgoneoff. Sheraisedthestaffandsniffedtheendofit.

«Heyguys!thisnoblepoet’sfullofshit. They’reallthesame,inbladderandinbowel: Theinspirationpure,thepoetfoul. AndScottishpoetsworsethanmost,Ifear.» Meanwhile,Eratohadbeendrawingnear, wasstandingnow,heroneuncoveredbreast risingandfalling,herlipswetwithlust.

«Idon’tbelieve,»shesaid,«ourpoetyearns forsodomy,ineitherofitsforms. You’recynical,youknow,andquite,quitecruel. Thispoet’satrueScotsman,andnofool. He’drathergiesicuncowedding-tackle taerogermethanoniebirkie’sgyvel; thanonieladdie’sarse-holeintheworld. AndthisItrow,fursaeIhaebeentald bymyainsonsytrue-luve,RobbieBurns!

Theladiescharmsarethoseforwhichheyearns.» Thalialaughed,cameover,andlookeddown atwhatherstaffhadbroughtmeto:afrown cloudedherprettybrow,andwhenshespoke hervoicewassoftandgentle,thoughajoke showedintheaccentwhichsheused;sobrash, soScottish,itwouldmakeMissBrodieblush:

«Yeeverseeapilliehovensae, apebbles-pockiemairreadytaedae, ayeardsaelang,saestrang,o’ilkayin thesaireststaneo’stanin’graithIken.»

Theyalllaughedthen,evenMelpomene. Butsheitwaswhosawthetragedy ofpoet’struecondition: «Whatafuss! ThispoetwantstobeTireases.

Likeeverypoetborn,hewantstoknow whatwomendotomakemensufferso, whatmenthendotowomeninreturn; hewantstobethefire,feelitburn; hewantstobethetypistandtheclerk; perfectionofthelife,andofthework; heisnotmanorwoman,butapoet: Andthatistragedy. DearMrStewart, towriteyourtragedyjustwriteyourlife: Youwanttobeahusbandandawife andyetareneither;yourcelibacy, farfromreleasingyou,settingyoufree, bindsyouthemoretoyourunrulyflesh: Youarethewelt,andyetyouwieldthelash!

Seeyourselfasothermenwillseeyou: Ninewomenhere,andallthatyoucando issprawltherewithyourlegsapart,whilewe makeyousuffereveryindignity thatyoucanthinkof,barringmutilation. Yetyouallowyourselfnocompensation, nocomfort,nofulfillmentinyoursex; onlythemechanism,thecomplex machineryinsideyourcockandballs seemstodelightyou;yetthesexappalls. Youwouldnotevenhaveussuckyouoff!»

Shesmiledatthis. «Idon’tknowwhichisworse: Yourinhibitions,oryourlackofthem.

Struttingyourstuff,sansshameandsansforeskin, yetstoppingusfromgoingalltheway You’relikesomebird,allfeathersanddisplay, puffingyourchestout,showingallyouown, butintheendit’sforyourselfalone.

Youreallyaretheselfishistofmen. Allartisselfish. Giveamanapen

andhe’llbefirsttopassthewinning-post; thoughpaintersandmusicianscomeaclose secondandthird,still,forastraightoutbet, I’veneverknownonebeatawriteryet forsheerunmitigatedloveofSelf.

Atleastthepoetsdon’tdothingsbyhalf! OurPercynow,withJaneandherguitar; onechilddead,themiscarriageofanother, yetstillheboatsunderthesummermoon withEdwardWilliams,bothsosoontodrown, whileMarysitsathome,andEdward’swife suppliestheinspiration. But,that’slife, wherepoetsareconcerned. They’reallthesame. NodoubttheMusesreallyaretoblame. Youcall. Wecome. Weloveyournakedness, yourvulnerability,yourlittleness. Weseethepoorforkedcreaturethatyouare, bare,unaccommodated;seektostir yourmetaphysicmemberwithourart. WeMusesalwaystakethepoetspart, andwon’tletgountilthepoem’scomplete. Justlookatoursuccess. Itworkedatreat.

Tumescencetingles,lubricationflows; yourelishversingafteryearsofprose. Thecoupletstumblefromyourwell-chargedpen: Notallofthemaregood,butatleastsome proclaimapoet’shand,howeverbase. YourMusewillhaveitso! Inanycase, wedonotblamethepoetforthepoem: Hewriteswhathemustwrite,whatishisown. Wecaninspirehim,butthatisall; cannotbutcome,hearingapoetcall. Therestisnotourbusiness. We’llbethere whileheremains,hisprickandheartlaidbare. Butifhewearheart-foreskinfordisguise weleave,thoughhebefullycircumcised. Thereis,withus,noGentileandnoJew ThusPaul,thepatronsaintofpoets,knew, beingpoethimself,thatpoetscannotlie, andshowedhisnakedsoultous. Andwhy didMark,thefirstEvangelisttowrite, aloneshowinGethsemanethatnight

theyoungmanrunningnakedaway:hisclothes, leftinthehandsofothers,surelyshows hisasthenakedtruth,theothermen clothedintheragsoffalsehoodonceagain. Alltruthisnaked;poetsalwaystrue iftheyareworththeirsalt;theycanbutshow theirnakednessineverylinetheywrite. TheSpanishInquisitionwasquiteright; andRichelieutoo:theyknewthateverything isshamelesslyexposedifyoubutbring paperandpentogetherwithaman: hemaydissimulate,henevercan disguisehistruth,whichpeepsbetweenthelines, decipherablehieroglyphicsigns thatgivehimquiteaway;signstoberead inthingshethinksarebetterleftunsaid, thingshardlytouchedon,ortouchedontoomuch; themorehetriestocoverup,toclutch hissecretstohisbreast,themoreheshows; healwayswearstheEmperor’snewclothes; showsalways,evenjournalistorhack, hispenisbare,hisforeskindrawnhardback.» Shesmileddownatit. «Poorpoeticcocks! Sosubjecttothethousandnaturalshocks thatfleshisheirto;sowantingtoplease; equippedwithurine,semenordisease, ithangsbetween;indoubttoact,orrest; indoubttodeemitselfagod,orbeast; createdhalftorise,andhalftofall; greatlordofallthings,yetapreytoall; tumescent,wantingonlytomasturbate itselfintoadetumescentstate; thendetumescent,wantingtotumesce; diseased,wantingtospreaditssyphilis toallandsundry;wantingtoproduce anorgasmofallthatrottenjuice pickedupfromotherpoets;toinfect thefuturewiththepast;nottoreject eventhesicknessitispassingon; wantingsomegrandchild,staringatthemoon, diseasedanddying,torechargehispen andsendthesemenstreamingforthagain

intoaworldthatithasneverknown: theselfishgenemakingthatworlditsown.» «Enough! Enough!» Terpsichorebrokein. «Euterpe’sright. Youreallyaretoogrim. Youseemtothinkthatlifeisallmischance, alltragedyandsorrow. Life’sadance. Ourpoetknowsthat,inhisheartofhearts. Already,inhissoul,sweetmusicstarts,» pluckinghercithara,«hehearstheflute,» Euterpeputittoherlips,«themute glumstuffoftragedydoesnotholdsway: Andthatiswhathashappenedheretoday.» Shethenbeganawondrouschoricsong, withonebeatunaccented,onebeatstrong, thatmadeonelongtodance. Eratosaw mythoughts,witharmsoutstretched,swayingdrewnear, tookinherhandsmybothhands,oneineach, andraisedmefromtherock. AsOffenbach hasgodsandmortalsdancing,sodancedshe, slowlyatfirst,thenmorevigorously, holdingherbarebreasttightagainstmyown, thenbackingoffandlaughing,lookingdown, feigningsurpriseatwhatshehadfeltpress highupagainstherbellythroughherdress, watchingitswinging,bouncing,aswemoved, thencrushingcloseagainstittobeloved. Desiremovedusboth,asinthesceneso similar,fromQuentinTarantino, whengangster,boss’swife,windancingprize, knowinghemustnottwistbetweenherthighs: TheTarantino,notofgunsandblood, butTarantinolongingforthegood.

Melpomene,hermaskheldtoherface, couldseethetragedywhichmustdeface allhumaneffort;she,asalways,knew thatsuchapartnershipwouldneverdo. Thalia,though,helduphercomicmask; turning,asever,everythingtofarce. AndIcouldseeboth: Sawthetragedy ofThamyris’mother,dancingwithme, knowingthat,ifshefailed,I’dneverlove anyonebutmyself;wouldalwaysmove

myglandtomakewithmyownculturinghand; yetifsuccessfulwithhergrainofsand, thoughIapearlofgreatpricemightproduce, still,likeherson,wouldlosemysightandvoice. ButIcouldseeboth: SawThalia’ssmile reflectingwhatitsaw:anubilegirl inflowingGrecianrobes,withonebreastbare, anakedvirginmandancingwithher; butnotasatyroragildedyouth; agrizzled,baldingPriapusintruth, hisphallus,likeabaton,keepingtime, countingthebeatswhilesearchingforarhyme: Narcissusageing,flabby,gonetoseed, noEchoforhisoverwhelmingneed, stilllovingthereflectionheoncesaw yetfeelingnowthewantofsomethingmore. Thalia’s‘comedy’wouldmakemeweep, hadInotbeenmorestoicthanaGreek! YetIcouldseeall: InErato’seye, sosingle-minded,staringdownatme, Isawthetrueromancebehindalllust, thetendernessbehindthepelvicthrust:

AsinadreamIfeltuslettinggo, feltmyselfherself,feltourjuicesflow, feltforeskinslidingbackandforth,awarm tingling,unbearable,yetborn, feltherflesh,myflesh,onefleshallastir, feltherbeingme,feltmebeingmeinher, felteverythingthatpantingloverfeels, themusclestensed,thestandingfollicles raisingeachseparatehair,thewell-defined contoursofbodysharpenedandrefined, feltnipplehardonnippleaswemoved, allsculpturedbythemutualhandoflove. Ifeltitall,reflectedinhereyes, yetknewwewouldnotwinthedancingprize, thatIhadnotthecourageofmycock, beforetheconsummationmustpullback, wouldleave,gohome,jerk-off,andgotobed, perhaps,likeJohnTravolta,endupdead, toooldtochange,totakethesecondchance. YetIcouldseeall: Icouldseethedance

Terpsichoresaw,sufficientinitself, noendstobeaccountedfor,thegulf betweendesireandspasmquiteforgot, nothoughtofpastorfuture,caringnot thoughalltheworldshouldcrashaboutitsfeet, findingthedancesufficientlysweet. AndIcouldseethedanceEuterpesaw, herflutebetweenherlips: Cecilia, knowingthepowerofmusiconusthere, knowingnonebutthebravedeservesthefair, knowinghersisterfair,dancingwithme, knowingmylackofanybravery, butplayingonforallthat,wantingus tobethemusicwhilethemusiclasts, happytoplayuntilIocomeshome, forus,forall,withothers,oralone, happytosoundherfluteforeveryone whoeverdancedwithjoyunderthesun, whoeverdanceddespitetheirburiedpain, knowingthatjoywouldalwayscomeagain iftheybutkeptondancing,keptintime, griefcarriedbytherhythmoftheline intothenextline,where,mysteriously, theevening’stearsareturnedtomorningjoy, mourningtodancing: ThisthePsalmistsknew: AsAugustine,cryingonhispillow, foundcomfortinStAmbrose’sEveningHymn whenMonica,itseemed,hadgonefromhim, anddeathwasthentoocloseforhimtosee heralwayswithhiminEternity Euterpetoo,amother,playedhertune, knowinggrieflastsaday,anafternoon, butmusiclastsforever;knowingtheway griefseemstobeeternal,toholdsway evenasitpasses;amelody mournfulandplaintive,byachangeofkey becomeaparadigmofancientjoy regained,transfigured,whichcannevercloy beingglorified,beyondgrief,beyondtime, inareturnthroughsorrowingsoundssublime towhereitstarted,tobeunderstood onlyasjoythen,whenthefinalgood

hasbeenattainedthroughpainandseenatlast asjoyinstinctivefromtheveryfirst.

Andlikethehoney-bee,distillingrare strangesweetnessfromthepollenofdespair, shecelebratedonthefurthershore ofgriefandpain;eventheTrojanWar andhersondead,becausesomeoracle hadsaidthatTroywouldbeimpregnable shouldRhesus’horsesdrinkfromXanthusstream, didnothersongdestroy;notwhentheycame, thosesametwothievesofthePalladium, stoppingatnothingtheircruelwartowin, Odysseusthecunning,andtherude Diomedes,Tydeus’savageblood bubblinginhisveins,tokillherson; thesonherbloodhadnurtured,byStrymon conceived,withhisfather’sflowingpower bredinthebone,hismother’sallure; andallfornothing;ithadcometonought; thatinfancyandadolescence,bought atsohighaprice,eventuallyhadled evenherRhesusdownamongthedead. Yetstillsheplayed,watchinghersisterdance, knowingthatsorrowneverhasachance; lookingatmethere,helplesslyerect, picturingRhesuslikewise,Isuspect, whenhisyoungmanhoodfirstitsprowesstried; knowingerectionsprovethatdeathhaslied, thatdetumescentfleshmustriseagain inthatlastgeneralResurrection. ButIcouldseethedancethroughClio’seyes: Knowingthatfollyrulesbetweenmen’sthighs, picturinginmycockthelongsadline ofheroesruledbylust,destroyedbytime, thegoldenheroeswiththeirfeetofclay: Or,perhaps,toputitanotherway, themarbleballsthatmockthelackofcocks onclassicsculpture,whichourhistorydocks throughprudery,orjealousyperhaps, ormaybesimplyjusttokeepuschaps frommakingover-proudcomparison ofoursbesidesomeGreciangod’shard-on.

HowelseexplaintheB.M.’shiddenstore ofmarbleprickskeptinasecretdrawer! Butbethatasitmay,inClio’sgaze determinationnottocriticise aboveallotherthingsseemedtoholdsway: onesenseditinthesoindulgentway hereyeswouldmove,firsttoErato’sbreast glisteningwithsweat,thentomyhairychest, thenfollowdownthelinesofgrowinghair tojustbelowmynavel,stoppingwhere asmallbrightblood-moleshowsadropofred, soliketheblood-molethatmymotherhad, thenmovingdowntowheremyphallusswung inperfecttime,evenasbollockshung andbouncedamildrubatointhebass, andfixingit;butnotasiftopass judgementuponit;fixingitwithsorrow: Ouryesterdaysblightinghertomorrow: Remembering,perhaps,herpunishment forcriticisingAphrodite’sbent foryoungAdonis;Aphrodite’srage whichonlyalikepassioncouldassuage; herownfellpassionforanearthlyking: seeinginme,erect,thatpurplething risenfromoutthepurple,toperform itsnecessarytask:asonbeingborn, sheknewthepassionofamother’slove, ajealouspassionnogoddesscouldmove; shewatchedthatson,solikeaflower,grow handsomeandtall;sawherownbirthmarkshow asmallbrightblood-molejustabovetheheart, makinghisbreastmorelovely;sawthepart shelovedfirstinhisfather,veined,fullgrown; sawhowApollolovedhimashisown; watchedasthegodcaressedthebeauty-mark asifitwereherownbreast;feltthespark thatleaptfromgodtoyouthleapinherwomb; itdidnotmatterwhodidwhattowhom, itseemedtoherthatgodandmanwereone. Theyplayedlikeboysunderthenoondaysun. Yetjealouspassionsmovedotherheartstoo: BoreasandZephyrus,theybothknew

thebitterpangsofunrequitedlove; theysighedandmoaned,watchingApollomove hisgod’shandsonthatsmoothyounghairlesschest, strokingthebeauty-marktheyhadcaressed once,inthesecretshadowofaglade when,outofthehotsun,enteringtheshade, theboyhadstrippedandbathedandthenhadslept; andtheyhaddriedhislimbsandalmostwept toplayaboutsuchbeauty: Boxes blowinghiseyelidsdry,whileZephyrus teasedmoisturefromhisparts,butnottoomuch; seeinghismanhoodwakingatthetouch ofthatwarmscentedbreath,hesofterblew, happytobethedreamwhosearrowsflew straighttotheirtarget;happywatchingballs flickeringunderblue-veinedlids,whencefalls asingletear,whichBoreassoondried; happytheytouchedtheblood-moleonhisside, solikeawound;happy,andyettheymoaned, knowingsuchbeautyforthewindsalone. Andnowthisgodstrokesnipples,belly,thighs, holdsinhishandthethingthattheyhadprized toobeautiful,tooinnocenttotouch!

Thesighsandmoansbecomegrowlsastheywatch thegodandyouthsportingunderthesun. Adiscusthrown;andthenthethingisdone. Bloodtricklesfromhisforehead,aredroot holdinghimtotheground. Asingleshoot breaksthroughtheblood-molejustabovehisheart. Themotherweeps;ispresent,yetapart; knowingtheblood-moleonherbreastwillburn forever,tilleternityisdone; knowingthesonshenurturedhadtodie toblossomintoimmortality; knowingherblood-giftnowasshowingforth God’sturningalltogood,eventhisdeath; knowingeachspringthehyacinthsreturn shallbringhopetotheheartoffallenman; knowingApollo’stearsmustturntojoy; yetmourningforherlovelymortalboy sprawledontheearth,morelikeachildatrest, butfortheblood-bloomblossomingathisbreast.

YetIcouldseethedanceUrania, withallherastronomicvision,saw: Knowingshetoohadlostason,Linus, whosemusic’sbeautymatchedHyacinthus, asonbythatsamesadApolloslain; knowingshefelthersister’slossandpain yetsensinginhergazeChaosandNight, fromoutofwhichemergedGaeaandLight; feelingshesawinmyerectionthere thecosmicgriefofGaea,forcedtobear ahordeofmonstersfromherownson’sloins, thenseethemburied,hermaternalgroans echoingtothestarryskyabove whichpresseduponherwithitsselfishlove; feelingshesawinmytumescentflesh Uranussleeping,dreaming;sawtheknife abreasthadfashioned,heldinCronus’hand asheapproachedhisfather;heardthesound ofsickleslicingflesh,thegushofblood, Uranusragingforhislostmanhood; sawCronus’hand,thebleedinggenitals castintothesea,thepenisandballs becomeawhitefoam,outofwhichwasborn fairAphrodite,beautifulandstrong. AndyetthepriceofLoveindeedwashigh! IsawreflectedinUrania’seye notmyextendedflesh,butUranus, theblackbloodgushingoverthighs,anus, themusclesstandingoutundertheskin, theblackholewherehisgenitalshadbeen, theagonyofflesh,thegreaterpain knowinghenevercoulderectagain withnothingtoerect,nothingtospeed thehiddenpassageofhispumpedoutseed, noseedtopumpout,testiclestocool thelostproductionofthatpreciousgruel, butworstofallperhaps,nevertoknow, notthrustinglust,orevencalmnessflow overhimwhen,hisvesiclesempty, hesinksintopostcoitumtriste, butnottoknowagain,wakingatnight, merelyitshealthyreassuringweight

shiftingacrosshisbellyasheturns, orleapingafterhalf-forgottendreams. ButIsawalsoPolyhymnia sadasshewatchedme,sawthedanceshesaw: Standingapart,herfingertohermouth,she tracedtheformalstrophe,antistrophe mycockperformed,likechorusinsomeplay ithadembarkedon,notknowingtheway toreachaclimax,evenplaythescenes, withoutaprompterstandinginthewings totellitwhenandhowandwheretomove, explainitsmotivations,lustorlove, thenstandaside;whiletheprotagonist, myselfbecomemyownantagonist, wouldargueoutthephallicrightandwrong whichit,aschorus,shouldintrudeupon, notgovern,asmyphallusseemedtodo: ItwasasifIhadrevertedto theplayofchorusonly,ritual, withoutaleadingactor;or,worsestill, descendedfromthenobelSophocles furtherthanAgathon,Euripides, pastarbitrarychoralinterludes whereintheborrowedlyricoftintrudes, towherethechorus,arbitrarily, takesoverthewholeactionoftheplay, makingtheactordo,notwhathewould butwhathewouldnot;strivingforthegood forgottenasthepartnertakesthelead; thesowermadesubservienttotheseed: Atragedy,perhapsbyAeschylus, withasprotagonist,Triptolemus; butnotTriptolemusoflegend,shown withKoreandDemeter,sewinggrain; Triptolemusisnowasulkylad whosesolitaryvicehasmadequitemad: Lookingforfertilegroundandfindingnone, Demeter’sdaughterstillnothavingcome backfromHades,heonthebarrenearth castshiscoldseeds,buttherecanbenobirth, nospringrenewaltillthelovelygirl returnstomakethegoldenlandfertile.

Thescene,arockygorgeorwilderness: Theprologue,Kratos,Bia,Hephaestus, bringretributionforhiswastedseed, nailinghimhandandfoot,andthroughtheside, tohanguponhissolitaryrock: Thentheparados,hiserectingcock mockshimorsympathiseswithhisplight, hisinabilitytomasturbate, spread-eagleasheis,nofriendlyhand tojerkhimoff,whilehecanonlystand rigidwithhybris,hishamartia punishedjustly,headmits,moreover thinkingsuchtumescencecannotlastlong. Thencometheepisodes,provinghimwrong: Demeter,Kore,bothupbraidinghim withwhatheis,whatwas,whatmighthavebeen: Hismother,Polyhymnia,theMuse, sorrowingforhisyearsofself-abuse: TheLynxthathadbeenLyncus,lickingdry hispenis,yetnotgoingalltheway, easingtheforeskinbackbetweenthinlips, tastingthelubrication’slastsweetdrips, thenslinkingoff,leavingthefleshexposed, tingling,unsatisfied,aroused, withouthopeofrelief:eachvisitor makinghisstateworsethanitwasbefore. Intheinterstices,thestasimon, inwhich,leftquitealonewithhishard-on, heragesatit,andthehybris whichmakesitmaster,himallpowerless, whilechoricleadercumprotagonist, itisaforcewhichnothingcanresist, supportedbyitstwinchorusofballs. AndlastaroaringlikeNiagraFalls announcesHermesandtheexodus: alittledialogue,almosthumorous, betweenthegodandunrepentantboy, remarksaboutthegenitaldisplay, Hermes,perhaps,hanginghispetasus ontheerection,withhiscaduceus tryingtotapitdown,makingitworse, butalwayswithoutlettingitgooff,

until,thethingnotbeingasatyrplay, he,gettingdowntobusiness,tellstheboy thepunishmentreservedforhim,thecruel birdthatwilldailyfeeduponhistool, strippingtheforeskinwithitsbloodybeak, plungingintothegland,makingawreck ofhisyoungmanhood,rippingtesticles outoftheirbleedingsack’sclusteredwrinkles, consumingeveryvestigeofhissex, then,inthenight,thestrangeabsurdcomplex oftubes,erectiletissue,bloodandsperm, willgrowback,agonisinglyreform, and,risingwiththesun,thewholedamnedthing beginagain,eachdaytheeaglebring onlycastration,agonyandshame, again,again,again,again,again, untiltheboyagreestosowhisseed, notforhimself,forhisownselfishneed, butforthegreatergloryofhisGod: Triptolemus,though,hasnotunderstood, hiseyesareglazedwithself-love,hecanstrain onlyfororgasmthatwillnotcome; becomeantagonistinhisownplay, thechoricleaderphallusnowholdssway: Asinglecrystaltear,brimmingafresh, willlubricateonlythatpurpleflesh; overtheswollenglanditthicklyrolls, lostintheforeskin’srubberyredfolds. Hermes,meanwhile,reluctantlyhasgone, leavingtheboytotheapproachingstorm whichthreatenstoengulfall! Isuspect theplayiscalled‘TriptolemusErect’. AndyetCalliope,standingapart, Icouldnotfathom,couldnotfigureout: Hertabletandherstylusinherhands, shewrotealittle,lookedup,watchedthedance, continuedwriting,lookingup,asif tocheckthatshehadnotgotthingsamiss, then,concentratinghardontheblankpage, wroteinafury,asitwere,togage fromherexpression,withthespeedoflight wordstumbledoutfasterthanshecouldwrite.

Sheseemedascendedtoanothersphere; herbodyearthbound,buthersoulelsewhere. Iwatchedherworking,almostinatrance, creatingme,Erato,andthedance afreshinwords. AndIcouldnotbuthope herwordswouldgiveourlove-playepicscope; somedignitytomysqualiddisplay andtothelustful,single-mindedway hersister’seyesfolloweditseverymove, likeskilfulcook,leavingtheyeasttoprove inawarmplace,watchingthegrowingdome ofbulgingdough,waitingfortherighttime. Yetwhenwouldthattimebe? Neverhadprick curvedupsohigh,sohot,sohugeandthick, touchingmybellyalmost,touchingher whenevershepressedagainstme,leavingthere agrowingpatchofdampagainstherdress closetohernavel’sutterloveliness, visiblethroughthemoistlyclingingfolds. Neverhadman-sexbeensonearitsgoals andyetsodistant;nevermoreexposed andyetsopotent;vulnerablypoised: Thetesticlesdrawnup,thelineofskin runningalongthehypotaurium fromfundamenttoscrotum,betweenballs dividingrightfromleft,fromwhenceitcrawls undertherigidcurvingwater-course, asiftotracethathiddentubefromsource, andrightalongthepenis-shaft,athin redlinedividing,anchoringforeskin, yetstretchedtowhitenessbythenakedgland whichbulgeshotlyattheveryend. Itseemedthatanymomentitmustflag; orelsetheballs,tinglingintheirbag, wouldpassthepointofnoreturn,kick-start thosefranticpumpingspasmswhichsendout oururgentnecessarychargeofsperm.

«Enough!» Avoice,peremptoryandstern, rangout. Calliopehadstoppedthedance. «We’vehadenoughofyouwithoutyourpants. Bouncingaway,exposedtouspoorgirls. Showingusallyou’vegot. Mypoorheadwhirls!

Weallknowwhataman’slikeunderneath. We’veallfeltthatthingseparateourflesh. Benotsoproud,thoughitbesplendid,big. ForthemalememberI’dgivenotafig. Youcallyourselfaman. You’vegotaprick. Right. CallyourselfaRomanCatholic. Isn’tthistheFeastoftheVisitation? Yetyoucanthinkonlyofmasturbation. Josephwaschaste,soyoucanbechastetoo. Yethereyouare,longingforagoodscrew Lookatyourself,man! Seewhatyou’vebecome! Abaldinggrey-hairedlecher,belly,bum, nolongerslimandyouthful;halfyourteeth missing;amassofwrinklesunderneath yourchin;moregreyhairsonyourchestthanblack; yourtestesshrunkenintheirscrotum-sack throughtoomuchwanking,andthesackitself amassofbrokenblood-vessels;yourhealth beginningtogiveout,inlittleways; yourarsesofullofpilesyouhavetoprise theturdsloose,useafingertobreakwind; evenyourpubichair,thoughyoustillfind thewhiteandpluckthem,fastbecominggrey; yetsinceyourphallusjutsinthesameway itusedto,atthatjauntyangle,you almosthalf-believeitwillcontinue. Andsoyoudance. Butwhatifwereturn yearsfromnow,when,oureffortsallinvain, ithungandswung,morependulumthanrod? Itseemstomeexceptionallyodd youputsuchstoreinmaleness,potency. Usedasametaphor,symbolically, forwriters-block,itseemedtoworkjustfine. Butyougoonandon;won’tdrawtheline atanyploytokeepyourselferect. There’snotanavenuethatyouneglect inyourquitepathologicaldisplay Iknowweeggedyouonatfirst,theway weeggedonpooroldYeats,aButlertoo, whenhewassickandimpotentandknew nootherwaytospurhimintosong. Wethoughtthesameofyou,thoughyouwereyoung

comparedtohim,ifjustasvainandsilly. Youbothsetsomuchstorebyyourwillie!

Hisrodandbuttingheadlimpasaworm; yoursreadytocatchlightninginastorm!

Wehopedyoursexwouldbe‘allmetaphor’, butyourbehaviour’smorelikeamalewhore: yourforeskinstretchedtobreakingpoint,yourgear tryingtoprovehowhighitcanuprear itsoozinghead:it’snotaprettysight swingingfromrighttoleft,fromlefttoright, thenbouncingupatsomevaguestimulus; theanglereachedimpossibletoguess withoutaset-square;stifflytothesky pointingitsglossypurpleknob;itseye moist,overflowing,seemingyettoswell beyondmeretautness: Thusyouknowfullwell yourgenitalstakeallyourthoughtandlove, andnotthosethingsthattheyareemblemsof. Enoughforeplay! Enough,Isay,enough!

Weknowyou’repotent,seenyoustrutyourstuff, nowlet’sgetdowntoit. Yourspirit’sweak, yourfleshiswilling. No,no. Letmespeak.

Isawyoudancejustnow. Noneedtobrag. Howeverharditis,yetitmustflag.

Isawyoutherethrownbackonlastresorts: PerhapsthattimeyouwenttoGievesandHawkes and,withyourpantsoff,inthechangingroom, thesales-assistantwithyou,lookingdown said,‘Sir,you’rereallyquitebigdownthere!’and, throughunderpants,reachedoutandtookyourgland andshookit,asthoughgreetinganoldfriend, beforeyouhadtimeeventodefend yourhonour,sendhimscamperingaway withthosewell-chosenwordsyouthoughttosay: ‘Comeoffit!’ Yetyouknew,whenlookingback, youhadbroughtonhisunprovokedattack ifonlybyyourinnocence: Youmust havenoticedhowhiseyeswereglazedwithlust whenyoutriedonthosepantswhichweretootight, andhowyoubulged,andhesaid: ‘Cutsyouright inhalf,Sir’ Then,whenheremarkedupon yourhairiness,askedifitwentrightdown,

howyouunbuttoned,halftookoffyourshirt, showedhimyourhairyback. Youshouldnotflirt! Measuringyou,hisarmsaroundyourwaist, obviouslygavehimsomethingofataste foryourownspecialbrandofsexappeal; youmusthavesensedit,senseditinthefeel ofhishandonyou;yetyoursoulabhors himgrabbing,throughthosetightlyclingingdrawers, thatpartyoushowtousquiteblatantly naked,peeled,erect;yourobscenity onlydrawingthelineat,itappears, thesofttouchofpatheticageingqueers. Tostayerectyoumightbeforcedtogo backtothatclinic,twentyyearsago, whenyouhadbladdertrouble;allthosetests; crouchingtherenaked,feelingsomethingpressed rightuptherectum,thenscrapingwithin; rememberhow,retractingyourforeskin, acertainDrFarrowpulledsohard thatyoucouldnotcontrolyourself,youryard swellingtofulltumescenceathistouch; rememberhimastonishedathowmuch fluidyourglandproduced,howhishardhand, openingtheurethra,madeitstand prouderthananyman’shadeverstood; andthenthatmalenurse,youstillinthenude, pushingawirehookrightupyourprick, pressingdownhard,scrapingoutallthatthick lubrication,dabbingitonaslide: Ifonecoulddiefromshame,youwouldhavedied. Butsomedayslater,backfortheresults, seeinganotherdoctor,withyourpulse racingthistime,aDrMoran,who wasyoung,Australian,good-lookingtoo, andtenderasamother;withwhatcare hisgentlehandsexaminedyou,laidbare yoursecrets,asyoulaytherepartlydressed, yourshirtpulledupsomewherearoundyourchest, yourpantsaroundyourknees,yourkneesdrawnup underyourchin;feelingoneachbuttock apartinghand,somethingslidesmoothlyin; andthenthepullingbackoftheforeskin;

butnotasbefore;youswellwithahard-on already,anticipating,quitewrong, ahardtime;butheholdsitwithsuchcare, easesitbacksogently,thatIswear youdonotknowwhenitisfullyback; calmingyouthen,tellingyoutorelax, turningitinhissterileplasticglove morelikeajeweller,viewingitwithlove, thenlayingitdownflatalongyourbelly where,activestill,itbouncesfretfully, whilehetakesyourtwoballsinbothhishands, squeezingthemgentlylikethepreciousglands theyare,feelingforanytenderspots, seekingirregularities,(thoseclots ofblood,formedintolumpsundertheskin whereblood-vesselshaveruptured)feelingthem foranytraceofcancer,makingsure heisnothurtingyou,thenpullingmore vigorously,yetalwayswithsuchtact, asifyourtesticleswerehisinfact andallhedidtoyouwasdonetohim, knowingyourtenseness,smilinggentlydown, respectingallyourvulnerabilities, opentohimtodowithasheplease. Well,lookatthat! Seewhatmywordshavedone! Thosememorieshavestiffenedyourhard-on. Youfoolishman. Youknowitwillnotlast. Nothingyoudocankeepitatfullmast. Thesunmustset,anditwillbepulleddown. Andthenwhatstrengthyouhavewillbeyourown; whichismostfaint. Thenallyourmemories willnotmoveitaninch;yourstrainingthighs willstraininvain;andthoughyourheartwillbreak, nothingyoudowillbringyourmanhoodback. Beginnow,whileyoucan,nottodespair; seekpoeticinspirationelsewhere. We’vekeptyouhereerectforhalftheday, yourcockprotrudinginthatsillyway; memories,dreams,desires,eachhavestood youingoodstead;we’veseenyouinthenude; weknowtheinmostsecretsofyoursex; nowlet’sgetontosomethingmorecomplex.

Forgetthemeremechanicstobegin: Weknowwhatgoesonunderyourforeskin; let’sseewhatgoesonunderyourrib-cage: Theproblemsoftheheartwemustengage. Youdidnotlikethatshop-assistant’shand grabbingyourparts;andyetyoudidn’tmind ahandsomeAussiedoctorholdingyou exactlyastheothertriedtodo; no,closer,withnounderpantsbetween. Iknow. Iknow Youliketothinkthatone ismedical,legitimate,allright; theothernasty,bent,unjustified. Andsoitis. Butlookhowyoureact! Yourvanityenjoysthembothinfact, cannotadmitit:oneyoupatronise, laughaboutwithothers,almostdespise; theotheryoure-livetimeandagain, runningitover,film-wise,inyourbrain, stoppingit,likeafilm,toconcentrate yourmindtoclimaxwhenyoumasturbate. Youreallyareamostromanticchap! Adoctor,usedtodosesoftheclap, towhomyourprickisjustanotherprick, oneinalongsuccession,youwouldstick uponsomepedestal,Hippocrates incarnate,facingdangeranddisease!

Allright. Hewassolicitousandkind, aseverydoctorshouldbe;yourbehind hepartedgently,pulledyourforeskinback withinfinitecare,squeezedyourscrotum-sack tenderly,didalladoctorcoulddo.

Yetyouwouldhavehim,laterintheloo, hisflesharousedexaminingyourflesh, jerkinghimselfoffsilly. Whatrubbish!

Theman’sadoctor! Though,admittedly, noteverymanerectsasshamelessly asyoudo,still,thegenitalshe’sfelt wouldrenderhimimmunetoyourfore-pelt andallthatitcontains;eventoyou!

Yetthatpatheticshop-assistant,who squeezedyoujustoncethroughcloth,whomyoudisdain, nodoubthasjerked-offtimeandtimeagain,

thinkingofhowitfelt,softinhishand: asyoustilldo,thinkingofDrMoran!

Enough! AtPentecostyoutoopanton. TheHolySpiritcomes,theMusescome, yetyouremainintentonyourowncock: Poetry,too,isbuiltuponarock moreworthyofhonourthanerectileflesh. Youseemcontentwithpornographictrash, withanyrhymewhichmightenlargeyourprick. You’relikeadog,goingbacktohissick! Younosearoundyourlifetimeofexcess, seekingthemostdisgusting,foulestpiece, thenwolfitdownasthoughitwereaprize. Andthenyoushapeit,hopingtodisguise withcraftyourlittlesqualidfantasies: producingmerelyturds,rankwithdisease. Lookatitnow! It’slikeanironbar! Thissexofyourshasreallygonetoofar: Thesidesarethrobbing;runningrightaround whereglandmeetsforeskin,lookslikearedwound; theglanditselfisswollen,purple,sore; theopeninginflamedandalmostraw fromlubricantemitteduselessly withoutachargeofsperm,asitshouldbe; thegroinachesfromproductionofthesame; thetesticlesaresorerthanthegroin! Surelysuchsquanderingofthatresource, tomorrow’sachesandpains,mustgiveyoupause? Butno. Ithinkwemusttakeyouinhand.» Andhereshereacheddown,tookholdofmygland, and,withtheflimsyfabricofherdress, wipedawayallthecrystalstickiness. Then,withmypenis-shaftinherbarehand, sheslidtheforeskinbackovertheend, pluckingwithfinger-tipsexpertandquick thestuckskinnotquitecoveringmyprick, teasingitoutinlittlesquelchingslaps untilIstood,themostgentileofchaps, myglandstillstandingoutundertheskin buthiddennow,andsomehowlessobscene. «That’sbetter,forastart. Nowputonthese.» handingme,neitherboxershortsorbriefs,

butunderpantsforallthat;adrawer-string aroundthewaist,itseemedthattheywouldcling closetothebody,fortheclothwasfine andspringy,withoutfliestospoiltheline. «Iseeyourecognisethem. InDresden theAntonelloSaintSebastian iswearingsuchapair: Antonello, ayoungapprenticefromhisstudio posingforhim,quitenude,hadfirstbegun tryingtocatchthenakedmartyrdom hissainthadsuffered,buthadbeenoutoff bytheragazzi'ssounrulyflesh whichrosetotheoccasionviolently; untiltheartist,thinkingsuddenly themartyrdommightbebetterportrayed iftheyoungladwasnotsowelldisplayed, had,laughing,throwntheboyapairofdrawers whichhepulledon,flustered,nodoubt,because hismasterseemedamusedathisboy-shame, hisinabilitytosmoothitdown underthetootightpants,eventually havingtoslidehishandin,pullitfree, arrangeitinacomfortableway tosuitlonghoursposingeveryday; andAntonello,seeinginaflash hisfinishedpainting,arrowsintheflesh, theblood,thesenseofstillnessroundtheboy asifthesufferinghadpassedaway fromtheyoungsaint,alreadysanctified, hisagonylivedthrough,hissoldier’spride humbled,transfigured,notnowofthisworld, becomethenewwinestillheldinitsold skin,alreadypiercedandpassingaway inallitsvigourintoeternity, hadtoldtheboytostophisfumbling andstandthereashewas,toleavethething alone,toputhishandsbehindhisback andnottomove,donothingtodistract theartistfromthetaskhehadinhand; andsothepoorregazzehadtostand, petrifiedintostillness,asitwere, inallthestillnessofthemorningair;

hischestthatroseandfell,themotedbeams ofsunlightslantingin,wereall,itseems, thatmoved,asAntonello’smovinghands workatthecanvas,whilethelightremains ashewouldhaveit,thenhecallsahalt; theboy,exhausted,shivers,feelingcold; theartistwrapsablanketaroundhim, theysittogethersharingcheeseandwine, theboyissilent,sulkey,hissouldry, theartisttalksandtalks,isonahigh; thensuddenlyhetellstheboy“Beoff!”, buttobebacknextday,sametime,ofcourse; theboystartstogetdressed,theartist’s“No!” stopshim;theboycanleavethestudio butnotthepreciousdrawers;theboyobeys, butsuddenlyembarrassed,turnsaway, pullingthemoff,fumblingwithhisclothes, thendressed,withoutaleave-taking,hegoes. Nextdayhecomesattheappointedhour, thedrawersarestillthere,lyingonthefloor wherehehadleftthem;strippeddowntothebuff, withyesterday’sembarrassmentwornoff, theboyisathiseasetowanderround thestudio,hissexadormantgland; theartistthoughisfidgety,distressed, angrilytellstheboyheshouldgetdressed andturnsawayhimself,ostensibly tomixsomepaint,butsoasnottosee howawkwardlyhissaintpullsonthosedrawers; readytopaint,heturnsaroundandroars: Theboyisposed,hispartsquitetuckedaway. “Iwantitjustthesameasyesterday!”

Theartist’svoicebringstearstotheboy’seyes; hedoesnotknowwhathehasdonewrong,cries. “Getitupout! You'vetuckedyourbloodycock betweenyourlegs. Itshouldshowtwelveo’clock.”

Theboyobeys,fumblingwithhisgland throughthegarment. “Stickdownyourbloodyhand. Youcan’tadjustitthatway.” Sotheboy, reachingintohisdrawers,canonlysay “Sorry,I’msorry.”liftinguphisprick whichbulges,perpendicularandthick,

abovehisballs,releasedatthesametime; thegenitalsavisibleoutline beneaththecloth,whichholdsthemnowinplace. Theartist,though,canonlypainttheface, later,whenhisangerhasabated:

Themartyr’sface,wounded,execrated, lookingbeyondtheskies,whereitcansee thecloudsopeningontoinfinity. Theybreak;theboyissullenandmorose; thepainterteases,triestomakehimlaugh, apologises,offersbreadandwine, cheese,olives,andsalamitoothistime; intwentyminutestheyarefriendsagain; theylaughandeattogetherinthesun, talking,tellingeachotherdirtyjokes: “Hecrackedbotheggsandfoundonehadtwoyolks, butnoalbumin.” Sotheylaughandlaugh.

“Andyou,myboy. Youdon’tdothingsbyhalf. Standingsoproudfromoutthoseglossycurls, Thatcazzowillsurelyonedaypleasethegirls.” “Oneday!” Theboyisbraggingwiththebest, “Lookatthisbruisehere.” Showinghimhischest.

“That’swhereshebitme! Afteryesterday, IgotsostiffinbedIcouldn’tstay aloneallnightandwastemynativewit, soIwentoutandspreaditroundabit.”

Hesmackshislipsandmakesasuckingsound. Thepainter,smiling,slapshimonthehand. “Younaughtyboy,beoff! Anddon’tforget: beearly;ifyou’renotstuckinarut!”

Theboygetsupand,unselfconsciously, slipsoffthedrawers,withoutturningaway, grinsattheartist,pullingonhisclothes, crossesthestudioand,waving,goes.

Theartist,leftalone,isdesolate, rememberingthat,forhim,itistoolate, thatheisold;nevertoknowagain theyouthfulvigouroftheyoungerman. Andsobetweenthetwoalinkisforged.

Theyouthmovesin,iswiththepainterlodged untiltheworkisfinished;theybegin latereachmorning,followingthesun,

soeachday’sshadowfallsonthesameplace; theyouthstaysoutatnightandhastoface almostafather’sdisapprovingstares; hedoesnotmindthough,bragsabouthiswhores, stridesthestudionaked,withoutshame; theartistnowregardshimasason, becomePatriciustoAugustine, proudoftheboy’shard-onsasofhisown: “Youdidnotsatisfythatthinglastnight. Lookatyourself! Toputyouintheright youneedawife.” Theboygrinsathimhard, pullingthedrawerson,coveringhisyard. Thestartofworkbecomesarunninggag: Theboyadjustshispenisandhisbag insidethedrawers;theartistwatcheshim, hisheadononeside,judgingifthesame asonthepreviousday,orperhapsnot; theboythenmovesittillhefindsthespot. Acatch-phrasenow: “It’snotquitetwelveo’clock!” Theboy,feigningconcern,straightensitup. Andsotheworkprogresses,daybyday, thesunlightslantsdowninadifferentway, thebulgingcrotchnowcastsashadow,high againstthepaleskinoftheupperthigh, acurveofdarkpaintechoingthegroin; thepainter,paintingarrows,feelsthepain; theartistandthemodel,bothbeguiled byunexpectedthings,motherandchild, abrokencolumn,supinesnoringdrunk, thosetwomentalking,oneofwhomwillpoint, becomealmostlikeonecreativesoul, thetwohalvesthatproduceaperfectwhole. Andthenthethingisdone. Theydonotfit. Strangers,redundant,theybothlookatit: Theparentsofababy,which,beingborn, isindependent,leavingthemforlorn. Theboy,againembarrassedsuddenly, islikeachildattendingaparty, whoshould,arrivinglate,haveearlyleft, buthadinsteadstayedon,atardyguest. Heslipsoutofthedrawersforthelasttime, standsmorelikeAdamthanSebastian,

almostreluctanttoputonhisclothes andleavetheEdenofthestudio’s endlesssuccessionofuntroubleddays, thusseennowinaretrospectivehaze.

Theartistwatcheshim:anonlyson packinghisthings,preparingtoleavehome. Theysharealastrepastofbreadandwine, eatinginsilence. Andthenitistime. Theystandtogetherlookingatthework. Bothunderstandwhattheyhavedoneisgreat. Yettheyareempty. Ithassuckedthemdry. Theyshakehandsformallyandsaygood-bye. Thensuddenlytheartistclaspstheyouth, crushinghimtohiminalastembrace.

Theboydoesnotrespond,butdoesnotmove, feelingthepowerofthepainter’slove. Theyseparate;theireyesarefulloftears; theartisthasputonanhundredyears. Theboyreachesthedoor;theoldmancalls; theboyturnsback,expectinglongfarewells. Theoldmansmiles: “Keepitattwelveo’clock.”

Theboy,withfeignedconcern,adjustshiscock, grins. “Bravo,regazze!” Andheisgone. Thesunlightstreamsintotheemptyroom.

Theartistcontemplatesthefinishedwork, knowingtheboywillage,willgotofat, willdieinwar,orinatavernbrawl, certainlyendunrecognisable fromthisperfectedyouth,deadinhisprime; thistimelessmartyrpaintedupontime. Theboyishisnow,andwillalwaysbe: Heisalonewithhistranscendency

Heseesthedrawersstilllyingonthefloor, strangelybereftnow,robbedofthatvigour whichfilledthemwithitssparkofmanlypride; knowingthattimemakeseverythingsubside intotheclayanddustfromwhichitcame; thatthoughhisworkshouldgainimmortalfame forhim,theboy,thesaintitglorifies, hegladlywouldgiveupthisearthlyprize toknowtheboy,thesaintandhewouldbe togetherwithChristforalleternity

Hecanbelievethemartyrdomhepaints, seesinthoseeyesthecommunionofsaints, butdoesnotthinkthatitwillbeforhim, orforhisboy,posedasSebastian.

Hewipeshishandacrosshismouth,andlaughs, methodicallytakesoffallhisclothes, standsforamoment,nakedinthesun; thenpickingupthedrawers,hedrawsthemon: Itwaggleslikeaflailanddisappears, becomesashapelessbulge,atightersqueeze thanfortheslim-hippedyouth,asitsubsides; almostasthoughthemarchoftimeelides thesharpdefiningfeaturesofoursex, smoothingourpotencylikemoltenwax, preparingforthetruegoalofourbirth, thatfinalbulgesubsidingintoearth. Heslidesahandinsidetheclingingpouch; hisgenitalsarelifelesstothetouch; thepenishangsaslimplyasaworm; thetesticlesarecoldasanystone; hescoopsthemupflatagainsthisbelly, adjuststheirperpendicularity untilitseemstostandunderthecloth; hetriestosmile,butheiscoldandloath. Heseeshimselfreflectedinthesun inthehalf-openedwindow,besidehim thefinishedcanvasatadistancestands; heputsbehindhisbackhisartist’shands, behindhimisthebluereflectedsky; sharparrowspiercethebreast,bellyandthigh; thetriplemartyrdomatlastisdone; thesaint,theboy,theartistareasone. Hesmilesthenattheshapeofhisowncock whichstands,liketheboy-saint’s,attwelveo’clock, undertheselfsamedrawers,reflectedfaint twice,inthewindow-pane,inlifeandpaint, pointingtowardsthesaint’smeridian, theboy’smidday,midnightaloneforhim.» Calliopestopped,lookingatmehard. «Putonthedrawersnow. Coverupyouryard.»

Icouldnotbutobey,reluctantly pullingthedrawerson,stoppingsuddenly

amoment,holdingthemaroundmythighs, embarrassedallatonceatmydisguise, thenakednessthatIhadhidbehind solongnow,itwasalmostlikeablind. Calliopesmiled. «Weknowwhatyouare. Youcannothidefromus,evenwhenbare. Butwewouldliketoknowwhatyouwillbe whenyouhaveshuffledoffvirility. Youfeelyouhavearatherhandsomegland, quiterightly! Butyouthinkthatifyoustand forlongenough,andhardenough,thatwe mightbedistractedfromability, orlackofit! Weknowyourlittlegame. Thepenisrarelygivesonelastingfame. Thereareafewexceptions,likeDonJuan orCasanova,whohavecomeandgone andlefttheworldaname,butlittlemore: Thephallus,initself,canbeabore. Nomanisquitethesameashisbrother; onepenis,though,isverylikeanother: Twomenerectarelikepeasinapod; glandsdownbecomeoriginalandodd. Aroused,amancanthinkofjustonething whichejaculationonlywillbring: Thatcalmofmind,ofblood,allpassionspent, whichwon,theuncontrollableintent ofhistestosteronealreadywrecksSuchistheglory,riddle,jestofsex! Butyouknowthis. Lookatyoustandingthere. Youcannotbearthethoughtofnotbeingbare. Youmustseehowridiculousyouare, focusingyourunfocuseddesire chieflyupontheglandwhichyoupossess. I’mnotsurprisedyoursex-lifeisamess. Nowpullthemup! Holdingthemroundyourthighs, youlooklikeallthosepornographicguys onpostcards,theirerectionsintheair, theirpantshalfofforon,theirpubichair framingthatparttheyseemtothinkunique, which,skinnedorwhole,ifitcouldonlyspeak wouldonly,ever,always,onethingsay: Lookatme! Look! Look! Lookhere! Lookatme!»

AtlastIdidit,pullingthemrightup, coveringballsandbulgingglans,thelot, therigidshaft,therosyforeskinend, tryingtokeepthemin. «Don’tstruggle,friend.» Shesmiled,watchinghowunsuccessfully Itwiddledwithmyprick,whichwouldnotstay down,butstoodoutfirmlyagainstthedrawers. «Thatthingofdarknessfirstacknowledgeyours. Remember? Letitstandattwelveo’clock: Thosepantsarefirmenoughtoholdyourcock againstyourbelly;actasasupport.»

Igotthetimeright,underneaththecloth. «That’sbetter. MuchmorelikeSebastian. OrAntonello. Eitheroneofthem. Orthatregazze. Anyofthethree. You’renottheprickyouthoughtyourselftobe. Unique,yes. Butthethreeofthemareone, inyou. Andnothingnewunderthesun. Youfound,Ithink,somethingyoudidnotknow, reachingintothoseunderpantsjustnow: Youfoundyourcockerect,yourballsinplace, butyoufoundsomethingelseyouhavetoface: Thatasthosepartsarehiddenfromoureyes, Yourheartitselfyounowmustcircumcise.

Atfirstyoudazzleduswithyourdisplay, likeagreatpianist,whoknowstheway tobringthepublic,clapping,toitsfeet; atyouragewewantmorethanmeretechnique. WithCortot,Richter,Michelangeli, wesensethepractice,yearsofindustry, thattakesasimplechordbeyondmereshow, deeperthanmostofuswouldcaretogo.

RememberAntonello’spainteddrawers! Amaniswearingthem;notjustbecause weseehismanhoodclearlythroughthepaint; becausetheartistknew,tobeasaint, youfirstmustbeaman. AsRodinknew, whenhethatbronzeroberoundhisBalzacthrew, that,hiddenfromoureyes,thewriterstands claspinghisrigidphallusinhishands.

Rodinhadsculpturednakedmenbefore; thatBelgiansoldier,andsomanymore;

butneverwasmansonakedlyexpressed asinthatloomingpresence,fullydressed.

TheCalaisBurgersareofcoursethesame: eachoneamantowhomwegiveaname, althoughthetatteredbronzequitehideshissex. Theproblem,Iadmitthough,iscomplex. TakeMichelangelo’sVittoria: Thenakedyouthistriumphantlybare, onekneeupontheolddefeatedback; themarblepenis,though,issmoothandslack, limplyalongtheupperthighitlolls. ButOthewonderofthosetesticles!

Impossibletobelievethemmarblemade. Sorealtheyseemthatonewouldbeafraid totouchthem,lesttheirseemingsoftnessdrew thecoldnessoutofthem,thewarmthfromyou. ButthatisMichelangelo,onefeels!

Lookelsewhere. Forexample,Watteau’sGilles. Wenowknow,afterseeingitX-rayed, thatWatteauoncehadhadhisclowndisplayed, hispantsheldopen,memberquiteexposed, butthinkingbetterofit,paintedclothes; thosewidewhitetrousers,handsthatseemtosay: Lookatme! Iamnaked,anyway!

Lookatpaintingandsculptureanywhere, evenwhennotaninchoffleshisbare otherthanhandsandface;undertheclothes ofagreatworkofart,theviewerknows anakedbodystandsorsitsorrides; anakedbody,allofitsinsides functioning,stillalive,throughyearsandpaint; insideMotherandChildandgrievingsaint wesensethebone,themarrowinthebone; ifwedonot,theworkofartisdumb, canspeakneithertomindnorheartnorsex; observehowLeonardo’sartdissects theembryo,thehead,themuscledarm, tillboneslive,fleshwakesinresurrection. Christ’sbody,ontheCrossorintheTomb, mustbebothwhollyGodandwhollyman: Ifmanalone,hissufferingisvain; ifGodalone,howcanwefeelHispain.

Theartistknowsthiswell,andgivestous Godasaman,sufferingontheCross: TheonlypaintedChristofanyworth hasballsandpenisunderHisloin-cloth. NowtothesecularfromtheDivine; totheridiculousfromthesublime: RememberBloom,thatsceneinthelibrary, thesurreptitiouslookhetakestosee whetherthesculptorwellthosefunctionsread, withoutwhichwewouldallofusbedead? Asculpture,likeaperson,needstobreathe, insidethebellyrealintestinesheave, whetherinBoston,Paris,London,Rome, onfountain,insquare,orpublicgarden. Thehorror,today,ofwalkingupWhitehall fromParliamentSquare:startingwithChurchill, thatball-lessBalzac:thenMontgomery, standingeasy,almostmiraculously withoutalegtostandon,hisbronzepants containingnothingtomaintainhisstance, muchlesstoprocreate:whilefurtheralong anotherbaggymonster,WilliamSlim, issuperficialsurfacesalone, Rodinwithouthismethodorhistone. Butwhygoon. Whateveriswellmade canbeundressed,itsnakednessdisplayed; ifbarealready,takingofftheskin wemustfindmuscles,sinews,veinswithin; ifskinnedalready,underneaththeflesh thebonesandorgansallmustbeinplace; insidethebonesandorgans,marrow,blood; insidethebladder,piss,thestomach,food turningalreadyinthebowelstoshit; noeleganceorpietyorwit caninanartistmakeupforthislack. Butwhygoon. Insteadletusgoback toAntonelloandthatpairofdrawers. Youwearthemwithpanache. Nowmakethemyours. Itoldyouhowatfirsthesawhissaint naked. Buttheboy’sglandknewnorestraint. Andsohecompromised. Hisworkofart restricted,hewasfreetoshowthatpart

morenakedlythaniftheboywasbare, theballsandpenisclearlyoutlinedthere underthecloth,asyoursaretousnow, butheldinplace,sothattheboyandyou couldbothrelax,andletthemindascend backtothebrain,fromoutthepenis-end, withouttheneedtoholditselferect, whichdroveyouboth,Imorethanhalfsuspect, withshameandpridemixedinextricably asitoncewas,isnow,alwayswillbe, althoughthegland,pointingtotwelveo’clock, doesnotneedtoremainhardasarock, feigningimpossiblevirility asitoncedid,doesnow,mostprobably alwayswilldo,aslongasmenareboys andtreattheirgenitalslikebaby-toys, andwe,wholovethemforit,playalong knowinghowsoonthissparkofmanisdone. evenwhenheldinplacewhereonceitstood; adetumescencepointingnavelward notglimpsedfirstthroughtheunderpants’disguise; adetumescencenoticedintheeyes andnotthebulgingcurve’sdiminishing; eyesthatarelookingoutateverything differently,insteadoflookingin attheirownsex,thesingle-mindedgroin. Comeonnow! Lookaboutyou! Youhavebeen theartist’smodelinaMuse’sdream; haveposedtherenakedwhileweogledyou, intentonyourowncocktoseeyouthrough. Stepbackandseeyourself,thecoverson assurelyastheyareatWimbledon whenrainstopsplay,andyouthecentrecourt, butleftwithoutthepretextofasport tojustifyyou,makingtopseedswait, theballboyshanginguselesslyabout, whileunderthetarpaulinfieldsofgreen liefallow,waitingfortheJeusuprême whichcanbeplayedonlyifallisright, butwhichalonecanjustifythewait. Youcalledus,andwecame,anddidtoyou thingsyoucouldnotconceivethatwewoulddo

whenfirstyouwrote: OMuse! Isingtoday... Butonceinvoked,wedothingsourownway! Accepttheploughing,diggingupofdirt, acceptthefurrowsinyourpsychewrought, accepttheshitthatwehaveshovelledin, acceptyourselfasyouare,allthesin thatleavesit’sworm-castsclingingtoyoursoul, asnecessarytoaeratethesoil. Who,poet,wouldhavethoughtyourshrivel’dheart couldhaverecover’dgreenness? Forastart youwrite,andrelishversing;youarehe onwhomthetempestsfellallnight,yetsee thecoverscomingoff,theshiningsun, asthoughthedayhadonlyjustbegun andyouwerebiddentoawedding-feast youmustattend,butasamartyrdressed. Nakedyouwere,weofferedthesescantclothes whichdonothideyourmanhood,norexpose toovividlyarousaloritslack, thehourasmidnightorastwelveo’clock.

Thesoldier-saintstandsatmeridian eternally,hisdeathandmartyrdom behindhim,hisyoungfleshnolongerstrains aftertheresurrectionitattains effortlessly,insideimmortaldrawers. Andnowthosepants,thosegenitals,areyours. Alreadyatyourbackyourhandsaretied, alreadysilentwoodenarrowsglide towardsyourbody,targetedanew ineverythingyoudo,orfailtodo: Loosedinanarrow-showeryettobe, ashaftthatisinflexibleandfree andmeantforyoualone,leapsintoflight, somewherebecomingrain,sentoutofsight carryingperhapsacancer,ormaybe acarcrashontheroadoutofCalais. Youshallfindout. Butintheseunderpants, tumescent,detumescent,youcandance withoutprideinyourownability tokeepitbouncingfirmatthatdegree, withoutshameintheswingingofyourcock ifitshoulddanglelimpatsixo’clock,

butwithacertainequilibrium obtainedwhensingle-mindednessisgone, lettingtheartistlookout:astheGod ofallcreation,findingallthingsgood whichhehasmade,remainswithin,behind, beyond,abovehishandiwork,refined outofexistence,indifferently paringhisfinger-nails,invisibly.

Yousmileatthat,evenasyouobserve hownicelyItranslateproseintoverse: ‘Tisnothingbutatrick,merelytechnique; mixing‘ThePortrait’withSeptuagintGreek.

Yourfleshatlastappearstodetumesce? No,no. Iamnotlooking,merelyguess fromthatnewnoteofsoftnessinyoureyes whichpeepsout,parallelledbetweenthethighs ifIamnotmistaken,asyousee meandnotjustmysexuality.

Youmenareallthesame. Youclapyourhands, atthisstageinthegame,overyourglands asiftohidethem,nowthatyouaredressed. Allright. Wearesufficientlyimpressed. Loaned,asitwereonpermanentdisplay, exhibitedformorethanhalftheday, we’vehadaprivateview:haveseenitlie, grownlongbuthangingheavyonthethigh; haveseenitsheathedinforeskin,wrinkled,slack; haveseenitcurvingup,theforeskinback; we’vepassedthestagesofitsyouthandage, pageafterpageafterpageafterpage, butalwaysnaked,alwayswithoutshame, untiljustnowwhen,coveredatthegroin, hiddenatlast,yourtwocuppedhandsyoupress asifawareofsuddennakedness.

You’vegotoldAdaminyourightenough, onlyreversed:ashamedinfrontofus, notofyoursexinallitsnakedpride, butofthatshapelybulgeyouseektohide. YouChristiansaresohungupaboutsex!

Jewstoo: Moravia’sAlbertoRex!

AlmostasifMan’soriginalsin wasnottheapple,butthepokingin.

YouknowGodmadeyou,knowHefoundyougood, knowthatinEdenAdam’spenisstood withoutshameashestrodeabouthisworld; orsleepingdarklysuddenlyunfurled asdreamsmadeeye-ballsflicker,Adammoan. Itwasnotgoodformantobealone. SoGodcreatedwoman. Adam’sseed leaptjoyfully,minglingwantandneed. AndGodsawit,andsawthatitwasgood. Yetmankind,initscrassness,makesitrude!

Evengreat-heartedMichelangelo: HisAdam,abeautifulyoungfellow, yetnotamanparticularlywell-hung whengivenlife,oratEve’screation; butastheytaketheapple,watchitswell almostinherface;aftertheFall, onbeingexpelledfromEden,wecansee forthefirsttime,quiteunmistakably, theforeskinback,thefig-leafsoignored, soplainlyabsent,thatwemustconclude theartistwishedtheviewertoequate sexualknowledgewithMan’sfallenstate; asifpoorAdam,giventhebum’srush, didnothavetimetore-adjusthisflesh beforetheangelshowedhimtothedoor ThenwhatonearthdidGodmakeman’sprickfor! Milton,forallhiserrors,gotthatright: Itwak’d,hecame,anddayreplacedhisnight. Sostandtherelikeamartyrandaman, yourhandsbehindyourback: Sebastian isneitherproudnorshamed,butletsitbe merelyitself,ashepreparestodie. That’sbetter. Good. Let’shavealookatyou. Thefigurenotsofine. Butyouwilldo. Yourlegshavethatsolidityofhis, thebalanceofyourweight,theseemingease withwhichyoustand,acceptingmartyrdom; andwithyourhandslikethat,behindyourbum, wegetthefulleffectyourgenitals makethroughthethinmaterial;yourballs, theleftoneslightlylowerthantheright, thecurvingoutlineofyourpenis,quite

visiblypointingupandheldinplace sotightagainstyourgrointhatwecantrace thefinestdetails,thingsnotoftenseen: eventhewrinkledtipoftheforeskin, arosebeneathwhichsleepsasightlesseye, becomesapresencethatwecanimply fromsoftlybulgingtubeandpenis-head viewedfromunderneath,uncircumcisédtheonlyspeculationseemstobe absenceorpresenceofvirility

Wehavecomebacktothat:wehaveprogressed fromAtoB. Iseeyou’renotimpressed. Thelongestjourneysomewheremustbegin. Thesinnerfirstmustrecognisehissin. Youhaveyourselfshownatthemarketcross publicly,asitwere,downtothebuff; we’veputyouintobreechers,lettheworld saywhatitwill;thepassagehasbeenoiled; youareintact;we’veseentoityou’reprimed andreadytogooff;thelineisrhymed!

Youseemtobeejaculatingverse morelikeastallionthanthegeldedhorse youthoughtyouwere,splatteringtheblankpage, admittedly,inthisexplicitage, withloadsofsterilepornographiccrap, butnowandthen,beingtheartisticchap weknewyouwere,youcomeupwithaline, animageoraphrasealmostsublime, ifnotinmatter,intheartistry withwhichitisexpressed,thepoetry, notofthewords,butofthemodeofthought, withoutwhichpoetryisbutasport, playedbyaloadofpedants,oroffools whogenuinelydonotknowtherules, orelse,pretendingrulesarenotforthem, stillwonderwhytheinkdriesontheirpen beforethatpenhasglean’dtheirteemingbrain.

Nowonder‘poets’often go‘insane’: Mostoftenwhenatlengththeyrealise theycannotpullthewooloveroureyes thewaytheydothepublic’s;sotheyhide indrinkorrhetoricorsuicide.

Thebestlackallconviction,whiletheworst... ButWilliesaidthat,inmuchbetterverse. Comeonnow,thingsarecomingtoanend. It’sgettingprettylateforyou,myfriend. Youmayrelaxalittle,nowyourcock doesnothavetoremainfirmasarock; butcontrawise,withouttheimpetus ofoureyesfixeduponit,youcanguess howharditis,withoutahelpinghand, tokeepthebloodfromebbingfromyourgland. Unfocusedlust,asyouneednotbetold, leavesonefeelingcoldandsadandold; particularlywhen,beforeyousquirt, distractedbyanon-eroticthought, itlosesstiffnessevenasyoucome inlittledribblesofdissatisfaction. Arouseitartificially,andwrite, andyoumayfindyourselfinsuchaplight. Intruth,mylittlepoet,Ican’ttell, withthosepantson,ifit’sashardashell orsoftlyflaccid,merelypointingup; evenifitshouldsuddenlyerupt we’donlyknowitbythetell-tailstain. Sowhynottrytothinkabovethegroin occasionally,ifonlyforthechange; andgiveyoursubject-mattergreaterrange. Youstartedwritingthis,rememberwhen? Thewintersolsticepast,alreadyspring wasmovingallaroundyou,movingyou; butthatwaslongago;nowninety-two pageshavepassed,andfourteenyearstoboot, whileyouweresearchingforthefirstgreenshoot that,underground,mightsomedayraiseitshead toprovetoyoupoetrywasnotdead. Somuchhashappenedsincethatfatefulday youputyourheartandpoetryaway whereneitherrustcouldtouchthem,northeworm. Andyouwereright,theyhavenotcometoharm. Buttheylayburied,almostasifdead. Andthenthatsmallshootraiseditsfearfulhead, youpassedthevernalequinoxandwrote: ‘AndnowagaininageIliveandwrite.’

Andsincethen,daybyday,ithasincreased inlengthandscope,andyouhavebeenwellpleased. Butthenthesummersolsticecameandwent, makingyourealisethatyouhadspent closeonanhundreddayssexually aroused,toagreateroralessdegree; andthatyoumust,nolongerinyourprime, unliketheBaptist,facetheslowdecline intodiseaseandimpotenceanddeath, withnoswiftswordtocutshortyourlastbreath; andthatyourcherishedmasculinity, withallthetrappingsofvirility whichintheseversesyouundulyprize, younowmustresolutelycircumcise. Holdonaminute. Donotlooksogrim. Ispeakofmetaphysicalforeskin. Iwantyoutoacceptyourgenitals forwhattheyare:apairoftesticles, apeniswithaforeskin,pubichaironeseestheirlikeintrouserseverywhere. Itreallyisquitedifficulttospeak tomenwhofindthatpartoftheirsunique, despitetheevidenceoftheirowneyes: You’veseenyourown,andmanyotherguys’, inshower,changingroom,andurinal, (unlikeusgirls,amanwillnotconceal thatemblemofhismanhoodwhenhestrips, butstrutsaroundshowinghis‘naughtybits’,) and,allowingcertaindifferences, havefoundyourownweremuchthesameastheirs; thevariationoverwhelmingly madeupforbythesimilarity Andyetyoumenaresointentonit, youcannotquitebelieveyour‘naughtybit’ isjustlikealltherest;andwearyourpants asiftheyheldthesecretsofromance. Ifyouknewhowusgirlsmakefunofyou! We’remuchmoredowntoearthinmatters‘blue’. Welaugh,compareyour‘bulge’,thewayitshapes inawetswimsuit,toabunchofgrapes, whenonthebeachyoustrollafteraswim. Yourvanityisendless. Whenyousin

youthinkyourselfthegreatinguiltandglory. Weknowbetter,knowyou’rebutapuny Wedon’trespectyou,notonelittlebit. Andyetweloveyou,heartandsoulandclit. Yoursisthepartforwhichourpartwasmade: Aswellhimasanother,I’mafraid! Butthereyouare. Respectourhonesty andwe’llrespectyourphallicvanity ifnothingelse:we’llletyoustrutandboast, andsayour‘oohs’and‘ahs’tokeepitmoist. Rememberthough:weknowwhat’sinthosedrawers; weknowyouknowweknowthatthingofyours isjustthesameasanyotherman’s; youknowweknowyouknowthosetenderglands aresubjecttothethousandnaturalshocks thatfleshisheirto;adamantinecocks donotexistinnature,onlyart. Rememberthough: We’llalwaystakeyourpart, ifallelsefails;we’llneverletyoudown because,forus,natureandartareone. Eachtimethepoetfinishesapoem hethinksanotherpoemwillnevercome: Itcomesthough;firstafeelinginthegroin thatwillnotgoaway;atingling, releasinglubrication;thentheflood, pumpingerectiletissuefullofblood; thetesticlesdrawnup,thescrotumtight; indifferencetowhetherwrongorright; thegatheringclimaxnottobedenied, crawlinglikeantsalongthetube’sinside; andthenthegushingforth,theecstasy, thetracingofthepoem,insecrecy alreadycodedonthewomb’sblankpage, withfieryspermwhichnothingcanassuage exceptconception,bringingtothelight wordsinvisible,writtenonthenight. Thenthereweare! Youcan’tindeedresist. HavingoncebeenbyalltheMuseskist, sexuallyinterferedwith,anyway, thecatwillmewanddogwillhavehisday; theGreatDay,diesilla,whenwelive togetherforever,momently,inlove

withourownnature,absolutelysafe, EternalBridegroomwithEternalWife.

Poetshaveglimpsedthis,inandoutoftime, lostinashaftofsunlight,thewildthyme unseen,halfguessed,whereonthebankitblows: Eventhoughtheydesertus,heavenknows! abjureourroughmagic,repressthemselves, orfallinlovewithloveorfameorwealth, orwhileawayacommonwealthofyears insonnetspolitic,theMuseprefers towaitinpatiencetillthepoetcalls: Butthenshe’lltakehimfirmlybytheballs! Sometimessuchsorrowweighsuponhissoul thathecanquiteforgetus,andthegoal hesethimselfbeforethesorrowstruck. Andyearscanpass. Butwithalittleluck, althoughthepoetmayhaveknownsuchpain thathewouldthinknevertowriteagain, somethingwillmakehimcall;alovinglook; eventhecoverofanewnote-book: Threenakedputti,onewithfingerpressed tolips,playroundanakedcupid’srest; hisbowandarrowsafelyinonehand, thecupidsprawlsasleep,hisotherhand restsonhisbelly;alltheputtiseem intentonnotdisturbingsomefairdream; onefeedsaparrotcherries,silently; anotherseemstolookdownlovingly uponthesleepingform;allisatrest; untilwenotetheputti,fingerpressed tolips,alivecrabisabouttodrop uponthesleepingcupid’ssleepingcock, thepaintedplotatfirstnotproperlyseen, crabandbackgroundfoliagebothbeinggreen. Andthatisallittakes: Thepoetcalls, alivecrabdroppingonhistesticles, andwearetheretotakehisworkinhand, ifnecessaryeventakehisgland aswetookyours;ifnecessarydo allofthethingswhichwehavedonetoyou: Forwewillstopatnothingtoproduce apoem,notevensexualabuse.

Itisnotalwaysnecessary. When inlateryearspoorAlfredTennyson, techniquealoneremaining,writingverse, sometimesoccasional,andsometimesworse, whilewalkingout,overhimJune’shighblue, forgettingalmostfancywassummer-new, foundinhiswifetheMusehethoughthe’dlost, meltinghisheart,theyearsofpermafrost; seeingthebrackengreen,thegloomyheather, writingsimplyoftheirlovetogether calledusdown,outoftheJune-blueheaven, bearingourgift,only,ever,given, lettinghimwriteagainalivingpoem wheninhisdoubthethoughtallhopewasgone. ButyouandTennysonaredifferentfish. You’remorelikeRimbaud. Notsostubbonish perhaps,notquitesodownrightcoldandmean, butbothofyouareequallyobscene. Inspiringhim,thethingswehadtodo makeallthislooklike‘NoddyattheZoo’!

Wewaitedforhim,rightuptotheend. Buthewouldnevercallus,likehisfriend. Hewasquiteright. Heknewhewouldgomad, insteadchosesanctity. Yetweweresad, becausewelovedhimmorethanwecansay: Onealwayslovesthechildwhogoesastray. That’swhyweloveyou. Allthelazyleaks downoveryourbrashbody. WeareGreeks. Weunderstandthefrailtyofmankind. Weloveyou,andyouknowthatloveisblind. WelovedpoorRilke,Baudelairetoo: Toallwhoneedus,callus,wearetrue. Butnevershallwepushourselves,unasked! Theself-sufficientpoetisunmasked: Andunderneaththemaskthereisnoface.» «AndI’llbewisehereafter,andseekforgrace.»

Ispoke,yetknewnothowIspoke,norwhy TheMusescrowdedround,Calliope, asmileuponherlips,keptthematbay, herstylusheldinjest,likeanépée.

«Holdoff,youguys. Youknowourpoethere isneitherfishnorflesh,bonaorqueer;

butbeingaproductofhisageandclime participatesintheevilofhistime.

Andifthattimeisnotallitshouldbe? He’scertainlynottoblame,norarewe! Yetwecantrytohelphimunderstand thelabyrinthhelivesin;takehishand; pointouttohimthedangershemustface: abare,forkedanimalwhoseeksforgrace.» Shesmiledatme,asmilethatseemedtosay thatIhadsaidwhatshehadhopedI’dsay; asifshehadbeenwaitingfromthestart forwordswhichshealreadyknewbyheart. «Youseekforgrace. Yetwehaveseenyoubare. There’snothingyoucanhidefromus,Ifear. Althoughyoulovesomewomen,withoutdoubt, yourloveofyoungmenalsohascomeout. Remember,neartheCentrePompidou, youhadyourhaircutbyabarberwho, eachtimehewalkedaroundyou,brushedhiscock againstyourelbow;youhavenotforgot ithitting,likeapieceofrubberhose, againstyouthroughthefabricofyourclothes. HisnamewasGabriel. Yetsilently youthought: Letitbedonenotuntome! AndBrunoatLasserre! Somanymore! Yourfleshsofullofthornsthatit’sabore. Enoughthough! It’smuchtoolateintheday tolookbackinthisself-defeatingway. Youreallymustlookforwardtoachieve asynthesis,beforewehavetoleave. Yes. Soon,mypoet,wemustpackandgo. YoucalledonClio,fourteenyearsago, butittookheralonglongtimetocome. Shealwayswasatease. Andyouwerenumb withgriefandpain. Butwhenyoucalledagain, shebroughthersisterswithherinatrain, singingandtalking,fussingoveryou asthoughyouwereason;becauseweknew, mostofushavinglovedandlostason, thattheywereallinyou,thatyouwereone withallofthem,ingloryandinshame. Weknewthatyou’dperpetuatethename

ofeachofthem,bywritingthislongpoem. Andsoyouhave. Exceptforonealone.»

Shesmiledagain,asmilelovingandsad. «Atlastwecometoit. AndIamglad thatitisnowsolate. Because,youknow, Irealisedalonglongtimeago thatthisobscenefarragohadnoplace initformyson,OrpheusofThrace. OfcourseIknowyourealisedfromthestart that,thoughhewastheclosesttoyourheart, this‘epic’ofyourscouldnotcontainhim: MyOrpheus,mylostanddearestson.» Andhereshetookthetabletfromhergown, thetabletshehadworkedsofastupon whileIhadwithEratonakeddanced: ButwhenuponitthenatlastIglanced, Isawthatitwasvacant;notaword disfigureditsblanksurface;nothingmarred thepurewhiteperfectionofthepage: Mallarmémighthavewrittenit,togage fromitsachievedsimplicityofform, unitedwithacontenteventime anditserosionsnevercoulddeface. Itwasforalltimeandforanyplace. Calliopelaidahanduponmyheart. «Nomoreamazement,poet! This,myart, Igivetoyou,todowithasyouplease. Thepoetisbothcureanddisease. Yourowncondition,morbidcertainly, containswithinitsownmorbidity theessenceofacure,ifyoutake asmallamount,withitatincturemake, andtakeit,prudently,inalcohol, untilyoursoulgrows,notexactlywell, butstrongenoughtemptationtowithstand. RememberwhenEratoheldyourgland andImystylusdipped? Rememberhow lateryoudancedwithher,erect? Iknow youwatchedmeasIwrote;Isawyoureyes uponmeasyoudanced;Isawyourthighs strainingtokeepithard;Isawthestrict metreyousoughttokeep;butyouweretricked.

TheepicofyourdanceIdidnotwrite: Watchingthedancemysoulhadtakenflight, andIwroteouttheepicofyourheart. Thatis,perhaps,thepurposeofallart: Tosublimate,transform;tobringtobirth somebeautyfromthedarknessoftheearth. Iwroteaboutmyson,myOrpheus, becauseyourdancingsuddenlywashis: EratohadbecomeEuridice; theweddingwashiswedding;youwerehe; theskywasevening;redthesettingsun; ajet-trailrose,pinkonthehorizon; itwasyourweddingday;yourbirthdaytoo! Thesnakealreadyslitheredintoview. Iwroteitall,itpouredoutinarush: Soulandheartandbody,sexanddeath. AndthenIcried“Enough!”andstoppedthedance. “We’vehadenoughofyouwithoutyourpants.” RememberhowIhandedyouthosedrawers? BecauseIwantedyoutomakethemyours. Theyareyoursnow. Itgoespastmerepanache. Theycover,donotcoverupyourflesh.

Thejet-trail’sgreythough,andthesunhasset. ForallIknowyourforeskinmaybewet withlubrication,semen,sweatorpiss. Thatisyourbusiness. Andourbusinessis tolubricatethepassageofapoem whichcouldbeyours,andcouldbeyoursalone. Theepicthatwepromisedyouisdone. Itisaboutyou,abouteveryone whoeverwonderedwhattheirsexwasfor whenitseemedlikeajest,andlittlemore. Butthereareotherthingswhichmustbedone ofwhichsexisapart;whicheveryone whoeverwokeupafterawet-dream knowssomethingof. ButyouknowwhatImean. Youwearthepantsatlast,perhapscanwrite thoseotherthingsyouglimpse. Ifitisright, you’llfindawaythat’syoursandyoursalone. Ifnot,mypoet,quietconsummation. Butthatisnotfornow,andwemustgo. We’llcomeagain,you’llcomeagain,Iknow,

butnowwehaveturnedoverthelastpage. Youwill,Itrust,onotherthingsengage whennextwemeet. Theepicyoumightstart whichis,Ithinkyouknow,closetomyheart andwhich,alreadywrittenbymyhand withlubricationtakenfromyourgland, youhavealreadyseen.» Sheshowedagain thetabletwithitsscrollofblankperfection.

«Yousee. Thepoemisthere;theworkcomplete; thethingalreadywritten. Butyourheat mustbringitintovisibility.

Weneedaclimax. Thentheworldwillsee aworkthat’smeantforyou,andyoualone: ThestoryofmyOrpheus,myson, whichis,younowmustsee,yourstorytoo. Iseehimlive,ineverythingyoudo. -JesustoMarygives,asherson,John; Johanntousgivesyou,DerMusensohnThink,poet,think. YouseethenwhatImean? Write,whenyoucan! Butnowaufwiedersehen. Ourworkisdone. Wemustbegone. Adieu.»

Andsilentlyshefadedfrommyview

Ishookmyhead,openedmyeyes. Awake

Iwas,hadbeen,therecouldbenomistake, butinthenakedbedamanalone, half-wokenbyadistanttelephone which,fullyconscious,hecannothearring, caughtinthecoldsnowsofawakingdream; orlikeasalmonflashinginthesun, swimmingagainstthecurrentofthetime, knowingtheRiverStyxCastalia’ssource yetbeatingon,tobebornebackofcourse, withdilutespiltmilt,ceaselesslydownstream.

Ifeltmyparts. Therehadbeennowet-dream: Theforeskin,tautandsmooth,coveredthehead; hadnotbeeneven(byadream?)retracted.

Myprickwasstanding,though,readyforwork.

Ithought: Itwouldbuttakeasinglejerk. Butno,Ithought. Thephonebegantoring. Ilaythere,heldontight. Amstillwaiting.

FORALTYNAI

AltynaiAsylmuratova,you aretheriver’spurecrystalthatflows intothesea,knowing(perhapsonly asyouminglewithyoursaltybrother) eachswirlandleapandeddyofthefast movingcurrent(whichtohispooreyeshave appearedspontaneous,extemporised, naturalastheflowoflifeitself) asinfactpreordained,fromthevery firstmomentofconception,theicy glacierofpremeditatedart, tothefinalconsummation,theact oflove,theheadlongrushintothearms oftheoceanforwhichithasbeenborn.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLII)

ThepoemIneverwroteafteryoudied Hasyettobewrit,sothatthetimesincespent Intravelswidebenotlikedeadletterssent Todearestthatlives,leastyoureturningchide; Timewasyouwereinhospitalwetried Livingasbestwecouldlife,whiletherewent Thosedaysanddaysbyofworldwithoutevent Awaitingyourreturn,notthendenied; Butnowitseemsthoseyearsandyearsmaytella Talenotofmerelyintervalalone, ThatNewYear’sEveinParis,Compostela, AndstillperhapstocomeChristmasinRome, WithParisonthe3rd,afterVienna, Notjustamarkingtimetillyougethome.

Wewentforthinthemorning

Tofindthesecretdoor, Weclimbedthestepsandpushing

Itgavewayandstoodajar, Wetrembledatthethreshold

Nordaredtoventurein, Dimfiguresmoved,abelltolled, Andcandlesburnedwithin.

Wewentforthintheafternoon

Toseekthedooragain, Wefounditasthesunwentdown

Andwouldhaveenteredthen Toplumbperhapsthosemysteries

Itsthicknessheldinplace, Hadnotahandwecouldnotsee Slammeditinourface.

Wewentforthintheevening

Allhopeofthedoorgone; Itstoodbeforeusopening

Asofitselfalone;

Afterthemorning’srigours, Theafternoon’sdespair, Thosecandles,thedimfigures, Werewaitingforusthere.

ALLSAINTS’DAY

WethinkofGod’sgraceasatreasure, Apearlofgreatpricebutnotrare, Whichisfreelybestowedonushere Inspitenotbecauseofourpressure; YetManasofallthingsthemeasure, Whoseinfirmnoblemindfamecanspur Tosalvation,whichthoughheprefer Thebadceaselessstrivingsassure; Wehearmuchofgraceunderpressure, Thekindthatthegodswillconfer Ondangerousthoughtattheirpleasure; Butwhatofthekindsaintsinfer Fromgivingoflovewithoutmeasure, Underpressureofgraceasitwere.

AGAMEMNONDEAD

ProloguetoaTragedy

Agamemnon dead. The murder is accomplished, the murderers departed. The body is laid out in the bathhouse. A damp towelling loincloth alone covers the abused nakedness. A white light shines from above. After a few moments the body slowly rises, still bleeding from its many wounds, and steps forward to address the audience.

Mysoulisweddedtothebow Releasedbydeath,itlongstofly Thearcofitstrajectory, ToquitthetautbowstringofNow ThedistantfieldsofThentogain. Butevenasitsfeatheredgrace Woulddartaway,asullenforce Stillbindsittothiscoolingframe.

Witheredmythoughtsaboutmecling

Likeseedsadyingplanthasshed Whichwindswouldcarry,earthwouldbed Except,unburied,shrivelling, Declininggrowththeywillnotdie: Withoutaconsciouswilltotrace Eachrandomsceneinorderedplace, Thepastisfixedimmutably.

Theafterlifebymensupposed Ihavenotglimpsed,mygazestillset Onwhatispastallchange. Andyet, Bytardyscrupleleftunclosed Aftermydeath'sredagony, Throughbrokenveinsthesesightlesseyes Mustwitness,butwithoutsurprise, Thefruitsoftheiradultery.

Deiphobus,whenyouwereshamed, Mybrother'swork,thoughtInotthen

Tolieasyoulay,amongstmen

Alaughingstock,mostcruellymaimed

Byjealouswrathofhusbandwronged; Yournose,yourears,thatlustfulpart Loppedoff,leftlying,still,apart, ThatonceinHelenresthadfound.

Helen,greatasyourguiltmaybe, Yoursister'sguilt,theguiltdivine, Thefaultwasyours,washers,wasmine: Thegodshavetheirownsymmetry. Strictpunishmentbyrightwasyours

Ifmortaljusticehereheldsway, ButZeusaseverhashisway Andbeautyisitsownexcuse.

Foster-childofTyndareus, Pollux,thysister,couldstthousee, Wasrescuedforcatastrophe, AbductedoncebyTheseus.

Castor,yoursister,wifeofmine, WhomLedagaveamortalbirth, Hadthoughts,likeyours,darkastheearth, Anddarkthingstothesurfacecome.

Pollux,thoulovedthybrothermore Thanlifeitself;thouwatchedhimdie; ThytearsmovedZeustosympathy: ThusthoutoobeddedDeaththewhore!

MybrotherandIlikewisewed

Apairofwhores,sisterstodeath, Sistersofthine;butthousharebreath WhileImovealwayswiththedead.

Butdeathallowsnoroomforthought, Forgrowth,developmentorchange; Insteadourdeadsoulsrearrange

Therandomthingsexistencewrought: Hermenstrualbloodsticksinmythroat, Aegisthus'semenfillsmymouth, AndImustbringtomonstrousbirth ConceptionsthatIwouldspitout

Menelaus,yourshamewasmine, Mycenae'sshame,shameofallGreece! Thusthebarrierofmyteeth Heldmymisgivingsinconfine.

Imighthavesaid«Thedeathstocome, Achilles,Ajax,peerlessmen, DestructiontooofIlium, Makeallthisvain!» Iheldmytongue.

Highwereourhopesofvictory, Propitiousburnttheoffering, Hadnotasnake,unravelling Ourfate,profanedthesanctuary Andtardysparrow'slatereturn: Eightfledglingsinanestconsumed Toldofawartenyearsprolonged, Madenonsenseofourcominghome.

Butfirstthatphoneycominghome Madenonsenseoftheprophecy: Falsewarwithafakeenemy Ensuredacounterfeitreturn.

Realthoughthefightinwhichwestrive, Therust,thespear,thewoundedthigh, RealTelephus'longagonyWhatcruelconceitsthegodscontrive.

CruellestinAulis! Blasphemy! Restitution! Infanticide!

OstensiblyAchilles'bride, Victiminactuality, Iphigenia,Artemis' Acceptanceofthatofferedhind AfterIhadmysoulresigned, Mademeyourmurderer,butworse!

Clytemnestra,sosteepedingall, Fromthosefairbreaststheydrankblackmilk, Yourhatredflowedlikestrandsofsilk, Butpoisonoftcurdsinthesoul. Thewarpwasyours,thewoofwasmine, Eachofuswovewithtwistedthread, ButFatethepatternshalldecide Forvengeanceisathingdivine.

Divinealsoallaugury: Calchas,atAulistwiceyourwords Filledmewithwrathagainstthegods, Idaredtodoubttheirsterndecree. Andyetthesnakebecomingstone, Grantingthesparrow'slastrequest

Tojoinherchicksinthatfellnest, Foretoldthestonemyheartbecame.

Thewindoursacrificecalleddown Leftinmysoulawoundofdoubt, LedustoTenedos,wherenaught CouldwrestAchillesfromhisdoom: Thewatersnake,Philoctetes, ThatstinkingulcerLemnosbore

Fortwicefiveyears,tilloneforesaw NeedfultheshaftsofHeracles.

NeedfultooNeoptolemus!

Pelops'bones! ThePalladium, FilchedfromasleepingIlium Bygreat-heartedOdysseus! Diomedes,bearingthespoil, Hadnotthemoonlightonthatblade Asuddentreacherybetrayed, YouwouldhavenourishedTrojansoil!

Protesilaus,atFate'scall, Yourhousehalf-built,butnewlywed, YouleftPhylace,yourmarriagebed, Thefirsttoland,thefirsttofall! Then,Laodamia,yourpain, Easednotbyawaxeffigy, CalledaghostbacktoThessalyThedeadreturnbutforourbane.

Butallwasbane! Laocoön! AllbutCassandraSinon’stale Believing,hecouldnotbutfail, AttemptingtoforetellTroy’sdoom: ButThymbraeus,Antiphas,he, Theirchests,theirarms,theirthighs,theirballs, Caughtinthosesea-brightserpent’scoilsThatwasbeyondhisprophecy.

Thehorse! ThehorseEpeiuswrought, Youwereawondertobehold, Thepurplemanefringedwithbrightgold, Amethysteyes,greenberylset, Thebridlebronzeandivory, Thehoovesofbronze,rowsofwhiteteeth, Suchcraftsmanshipalllostbeneath Thedetritusofhistory.

Helen,whatwasyourmotivethen?

Thevoiceoflovedonesleftbehind Mimickedbyyou,turningthemind OfAnticlus;hearingagain Whatseemedtobehiswife’svoicehe, Tryingtocall,Odysseus DispatchedhissoultoTartarusSparedthusourworstatrocity!

AndNeoptolemusalone

Avictimnotofthatfelldread, Hissword-bladefingeringinstead, Proudofthecarnageyettocome: Fromtheintestinesofthathorse Emergingexcrementally, Thetrap-doorourcolostomy, Digestedmatter,onlyworse!

Doubtingthegods,inemptyforms Obeyingthem,incurstheirwrath. Hencemyfalsepietycalledforth Fraternalquarrels,partingstorms: Sacrificingupontheshore, Watchingmybrother'sfleetdepart, Dismissedthereasonsoftheheart, Fulfilledtheletterofthelaw.

Wethinkbyourmistakestolearn: ChastenedbutsteadfastsailedIthus, LettingyoungNeoptolemus PerformtheritesIhadforsworn.

Prometheus,wherewasyourspark! Istoodinbadfaithyetagain!

Thegods,itseems,alwaysmustwin Whilewearedicinginthedark.

Dicingforwhat? Nauplius'hate, Byhisjustson'sunjustdemise Exacerbated,willdisguise

Thetrustedbeacons,wreckourfleet!

OPalamedes,clever,brave, Youringenuityandwit Couldfashionhalfanalphabet, Notsaveyoufromatraitor'sgrave;

AgravethrownupinIthaca

Whenfirstyousawhimmadnessfeign, Tillingthelandwithsaltforgrain, Theassandoxawell-matchedpair! Telemachus,yourfather'spath Whencespedtheplough,haltedatyou, Themadnessfeignedbecomingtrue, Engenderingadeadlywrath;

Nauplius'malicehelpedcontrive Aegisthus',Clytemnestra'splan, Aback-uptoavengehisson ShouldItheTrojanwarsurvive: TheearthIkissed,thetearsIshed, ThesonwhosefaceIlongedtosee, Mywelcomehome... Illusory! Iwalkedalreadywiththedead.

TheswordIclaspedwithdyinghands, Thebladewhichbitintomyflesh, Cassandra'swarning,thesestayfresh, Fastenmysoulwithironbands. Cassandra,youforesawitall!

Circlemycoolingbodyyet

Withbluevein'darms,warmthighs,beget Thevengeancethatmightwarmmestill;

AvengeanceIdonotinsist

Butwhichthegodsordainmustbe, Lestthepluperfectsymmetry

Ofcause,effect,besomehowlost; Avengeanceterribleandjust, LettingOrestessatisfy

Thegods'imperativedecree, RemovetheshirtIcouldnotshift

ButwhichImustacknowledgemine; Steeped,asitwere,inNessus'blood, Itbearsitsbanebeyondtheflood, Freezeslikeice,burnstothebone!

Ariadne,bothyouandI Dwellonthemight-have-been,thedone, Bacchus,Bacchantes,stilltocome, Naxosouronereality!

Achilles,Ajax,mustwerace

Theshadow-tortoiseofthesoul, Knowingthatwewillreachourgoal Immobileatthestartingplace?

Ourhanddrawsbackthefeatheredshaft, Itsbalancelightuponthethumb SpeaksofaFutureyettocome, NotofaNowalreadypast,

Asoulstillweddedtothebow. Releasedbydeath,itlongstofly Thearcofitstrajectory, ToquitthetautbowstringofNow ThedistantfieldsofThentogain. Butevenasitsfeatheredgrace Woulddartaway,asullenforce Stillbindsittothiscoolingframe.

During this last, Agamemnon has stepped back, returning by the end to his position at the start.

EIGHTCAPRICCIOS

(two limericks, a clerihew, a haiku, a septet, an elegiac couplet and two octaves)

(i)

Apennilesspoetoncesaid, “I’llberecognisedafterI’mdead.” Andhiswordswerefulfilled Whenthepoetwaskilled, “There’sthatpennilesspoet.”theysaid.

(ii)

Anincontinentoldmonkoncesaid, Havingwokenuppeeingthebed, “ThoughAugustinewasgreedier Mysinisacedia, For ennuie istheonethingIdread.”

(iii)

ThoughElizabethBarrett Preferredclaret, Beingherfather’sdaughter Shedranktheporter

(iv)

Hereisawonder

Noonecouldbelieve Abirdwithayellowbeak.

(v)

THENIHILIST

Thereisnothing Towrite. Nothing Needstobe,should Be,oughttobe Written. Therefore Iamwriting Nothing. (vi)

Ultrasoundguidedtransrectalprostatebiopsy: AndAlexthere,withPavel,buggeringmebyproxy (vii)

IMITATEDFROMYEATS

OnepoemhaveIwritten Fortheearalone, Throughnottobespoken Overwirelessorphone; Pitchedpastman’shearing, Letitratherappear Tohanglikeanearring

Fromlovelywoman’sear (viii) Dragonssnort Fierysnot, Alsothey Fartalot; Fieryfarts, Fierysnot, Honestly Couldyoudothart!

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXXV)

«The Minim’s farewell to his donkey body.»

Allofourcleverness Willpassaway

Allofouryouthfulness Leadstodecay Whatwillbeleftofus

Onthelastday Onlyourlittleness Nonecangainsay

LATOUSSAINTÀPARIS

YesterdayinParis

Boulevardswerebare

Weweretherewithoutyou Althoughyouwerethere

YesterdayinParis

Treesdidnotdespair Whentheleavesdeparted Birdstooktotheair

YesterdayinParis

Thedeadclaspedthehair

Ofthepassingangels Whoeternalare

YesterdayinParis IsTodayelsewhere

ATALEOFTHREECITIES

Verses written in London on the 22nd of June the Feast of Saint Thomas More, Saint John Fisher and Saint Paulinus of Nola after seeing The Black Rider at the Barbican Theatre (Robert Wilson, William Burroughs, John Peale Bishop, Tom Waits) upon returning from three weeks spent in Paris, Rome and Dublin celebrating a wedding at Anzio near Rome the centenary of Bloomsday in Dublin and in Paris Paris itself.

MariaAntiqua

IntheForumstands Closetoancienttemples Wheregodsclaptheirhands

Baudelaire’sParis Mayexistnomore Yethisspirithovers Ateachopendoor

HowthHeadstillwatches OverDublinBay Throughthegodsandheroes Allarepassedaway

IntheruinedForum Poppiesblossomred Nearthespotwhereoncesome BuriedCæsarbled

FromtheOrmondBarstill ComesLove’sOldSweetSong Thoughthedeardeaddaysbeondrecallaregone

Newmenwalkalongsir

JohnRogerson’sQuay EachHenryFlowermust BloomandhavehisDay

Welikepoppiesflourish BriefasantiqueRome Bloomingbutaninstant Andforevergone

BlazesBoylan’sflower Jauntyinthemouth IsforPirandello Slowcancerousdeath

OnAnzio’sbeaches Weddingguestsnowstand WheretheD-DayDodgers Dieduponthesand

AttheTrocadéro’s PalaisdeChaillot Valéryinstatelay Liberatedso

RaffælloSanti’s Mortalsweepingslie Pantheonsubtectum

Opentothesky

InSt.Patrick’sSwift’sonce Laceratedbreast Savagelyindignant Hasatlastfoundrest

LearningEstherJohnson Mightnotyouthprolong SwifttojoinhisStella UndertheOnestone

SwifttojoinVanessa HesterVanhomrigh Consumedbyhisfire Likeabutterfly

SleeplessthustheParcae InSt.Stephen’sGreen Spinafinebronzethreadthey Cutwithoutaqualm

Menandgodsandflowers Allwillpassaway Yetinspiteofthiswe HungerfortheDay

Historyanightmare

Fromwhichwewouldwake ToaworldwhereOnemight Makerighteachmistake

ByOneJohnPealeBishop Sightlessmightbesaved IftheThreebecomeOne Inanemptygrave

EvenWilliamBurroughs Shootinginthedark Withhissilverbullets Cannotmissthemark

WhenwillthoseThreeMagi MindandHeartandSoul ComeasOnetoworship AtthefirstNoël

IntheForumpoppies Bloomadayatmost Weareblindmusicians WaitingfortheHost

HandelJennensCoram CometoDublinTown WithanewMessiah

FortheFoundlingHome

SettingJennens’verses

Inseventeenforty-one Fourweeksinthemaking Sawtheworkwelldone

Handleallunknowing Ofhisfutureplight Totalblindnessafter ThatexcessofLight

HomerJoyceandMilton SensingtheDesign Waitinginthedarkness Forthenew-pressedWine

FisherMorePaulinus EagerfortheFeast BordeauxbecomeBloodand BreadtheEucharist

Fisher’sgospelopen

AtJohnseventeen Knowinghenextnoonwill Wantaheadtodine

ThomasMoreallheedless Ofhisdestiny Certainthattomorrow Wemeetmerrily

Paulinusdeparted FromAusonius Yetanunborngrandson Willmakegoodtheloss

Standinginthedoorway HardbyFinn’sHotel

JoyceknewnotthatNora Wouldlovehimsowell

AttheShelbournedrinking FendantdeSion

Threeofustogether ArerejoycingOne

Parispastandpresent Parisyettobe MayweallbecomeOne Blessédcompany

RaffælloVinci Michelangelo

PaintingtheNewHeaven Theyalreadyknow

HandelJennensCoram MakingBethlehem HalleDublinLondon NewJerusalem

SwiftVanessaStella WilsonBurroughsWaits Transubstantiation

WaitingattheGates

DavyByrne’sservesoutits Joyceepiphanies BurgundywithBreadand Gorgonzolacheese

ParisRomeandDublin AretoLondoncome FisherMorePaulinus MaytheyallbeOne

LABELLEAUBOISDORMANT

FromdeepestsleepIdreamtofyou, Garbo,thebeautifulandtrue, Notasinyouthyouoncehadbeen, Awraithenchantedtothescreen, Butasyoumighthavebeeninage, Playinguponapaintedstage Where,despitealltheyearshadclaimed, Somethingofbeautystillremained.

Surelysuchsleepingloveliness Nevercouldsinktonothingness Butmightbewokenwithakiss;

Youwithakissmightwakemetoo OutofthedreamIdreamtofyou, Garbo,thebeautifulandtrue.

HERLASTLONDONCONCERTREVISITED

Thevoice, vibrato,roseandfell, Wobbledaroundthecrowdedhall, Soundingforusthediva’sknell.

Callaswasfifty,here,today! The Suicidio heldsway, Butwefeltonlycolddismay:

LaGioconda'smonotone Hadpenetratedtothebone, Turningourgorgonheartstostone.

Nothingwasleft. Wemightaswell Escapeourselvesatinterval, Ratherthanondestructiondwell.

ThentheduetfromCarmencame; DiStefanowasmuchthesame; Allthatremainedofherthename:

Until,althoughlongcustomhad Madeitstapleoperafood, Laissez-moi passer! chilledourblood.

Andsowestayed. Themagicgrew Weheardthetonesthatonceweknew; Onlythebeautifulandtrue;

Santuzza’sangerandherpride Werethere,althoughthevoicehaddied, Ingesturenottobedenied;

She was thatpeasantgirlbetrayed, Callas,inscarletgownarrayed, Asimple,broken-heartedmaid!

Andsoweclappedforsomethingmore, Weclappeduntilourhandsweresore, Butweweregrantednoencore;

ForCallashadsetsailtobe Apartofthatgreatmystery Herartpermittedustosee;

Callashadpassedintothenight Whichshehadsought,aswasherright, Leavingusanabodeoflight.

EXEQUIES(XLV)

SAINTBARTHOLOMEW’SDAY

(24-August-2003)

Godpreparesusforeverything: Grazingthekneesoflittleboys, Losingofpets,losingoftoys, Givesusastartonsuffering.

AutumnpreparestheearthforSpring: ThesearethemeanswhichHeemploys, Thebitterfruitageofourjoys SetsinustheDistinguishedThing.

ThusHepreparedBartholomew, Sawthatateightdaysoldheknew Suchflayingascouldthenbegin;

Thebitteragonytocome Prefiguredinthattenderskin Sethimwellupformartyrdom.

VARIATIONSONATHEME

a sequential group of nine irregular sonnets adumbrating A Natural History Of Manus Stupration

ut difficilior haec explanatio sit simul et pudorem et artis praecepta servantibus.

CelsusVI;18,1.

DREAMINGINADVENT

Itriedtododgetheblowhadseenitcoming

Andyetmyfatherwasthebetterboxer

Ajabbingthrustpunishedmysolar-plexus

Ifeltthesplashandshudderofconception

Leftwithhiscrustingspunkuponmybelly

Iwasheditoffunderthesteamingshower

Rememberingmymother'slastinjunction

You never must repudiate your father

ButwhenIcleanedhisbutt-endsfromtheashtray

Theburningtipshadtracedinhieroglyphics

Why must you be of all things so uncertain

LaterwemetandIofcoursesaidnothing

Watchingmychancesslidingdowntheplug-hole

AndyetIfeltsomethinghadbeenaccomplished

(II)

PROMETHEUSBOUND

Standinguponabalcony InShelley-hauntedLerici Nakedfrombathinginthesea Imasturbatedsuddenly

Leapingbeyondmyselftobe Apartofthatgreatcompany Ofpoetsseekingtobefree Fromallhide-boundmorality

Butfleshshrinksbackinstinctively Maskingthatfinalnudity Whichpenetrateseternity

Testiclessinkfromecstasy Todanglecoldandlistlessly Inspentrespectability

DESCARTESBEFORETHEWHORES

IthinkthereforeIam ButwhatIammyart Dissemblesfromthestart ConcealingwhatIam

ForknowingthatIam Lubriciousfleshatheart Myvalour'sbetterpart DeniesallthatIam

Unctuousinmydrawers Eagerforconsummation Theferalpenisstores Achargeoflubrication Obedienttolaws SetdownattheCreation

GEMINITUDO

Polluxthouartagodtome,thysky-chest Isribbedwithclouds,thynipplessparklestar-like, Thesunandmoonhanglooselyinthyscrotum Fromwhencenogatheringsemenseeksaway; Castordespitethynamethouartlubricious, Thymanhood'sshapethatfromtheanusrises Throughcurveofhypotauriumtopenis Disdainstheprepuce,makesofitselfdisplay; Castor,thymortalhandmyfleshencloses, Thouurgestscrotum-tighteningtoclimax, Calmlydetachedthoupumpestmylifeaway; Pollux,thyfleshwasmyfleshonce,disgusted Andyetwithunavertedeyesthouwatchest, KnowingmyfleshimmortalontheLastDay

(V)

A.M.D.G.

Ashallowstreamofcrystal Itssourcebeyondourcontrol Becomesthedeathofthesoul Inasuddenstandingnipple

Pusgatheredinapimple Festeringwillturnfoul UnlesstheMusestoil Engendersafluxeternal

Tightinthescrotumoftime Clingingtothesublime Testiclesseekrelease

Hardasthefleshtheyprod Ceaselesslystrainingtocease ForthegreatergloryofGod

INTIMATIONSOFSEXUALITY

DoctorFarrow,youtookmeinhandonce withavengeance;birthday-bareuponyourcouch youleftmenotoneshredofmodesty; dispassionatemytesticlesyoufondled, pulledmytautforeskinbackwithonehardjerk; naturallyIerected;thepenis, primedandinitsprime,wantedonlytofuck; butitdidn'tfuckthenanddoesn'tfucknow; thelubricationfrommyglandproceeding whenonallfoursmyarseyoucoldlyprobed stilllubricatesapassageonlyused tocarryspermstotheireternalhome...

God!wasIsparedthe pleasures of the flesh That virginal myfleshmightpleasureYou?

AMIDWINTERNIGHT’SDREAM

Togethernakedthroughthedoorframecrushing Hisfirmerectionhorizontalholding Minefullandpudgybutalittledrooping Almostonemustadmitathalf-mastflying

Shuttingthebathroomdoortowardsmeturning Genitalcontactonlyjustavoiding Thathiddeneyealreadyhalf-exposing Beneathitslidofforeskintautandblinking

Youthfulandquickitcamethefluidboiling Overhishandbetweenhisfingersrunning There’s nothing wrong in that Imurmuredwatching

Buthesooninterestlostinmyhandworking Fromsolitarysweatandlabourturning Noyoungmalegazemyflaccidflesharousing

ELEGY:LASTTHINGS

Certainlymuchwillbelost: Slackeningmuscles,slacknessoftheskin, Insistonouracceptingthebanalitiesofage.

Teeththatwerefastareloose;untimelywrenched,proudlywedisplay Denturesthatshiftasweeat,smilewithadifferentsmile.

Glandshaveawilloftheirown,ostentatiouslyrestontheirlaurels, Swellnotthephalluswithblood,manipulatehowwemay

Thescrotum,onceplumpwithitstreasures,isshrunken;itswrinkledpurse Discoloured,leathery,thick,allcreditfastrunningout.

Thebowelsgrowsluggishtoo;aleanmiddle-finger,forcedbetweenpiles, Releasesalumpishgruel,notfullydigestedfood.

Eventhebladder,reliableonce,constricted,retainsitsload; Aftermucheffortandstrain,apathetictricklecomes.

Whatwillbeleftatthelast? Memorieslikefadingdreamsdeleted? LordJesusneverdoubtingDeath'ssyntaxwouldyieldtoLove?

DREAMINGINLENT

Aghost,Iwanderedthroughtheemptyhouse Naked,althoughbylivingmenunseen, Forlivingmenintimeneedsmustexist Tofillthevacantspaceheldbyourbeing.

Thewallswerelinedwithvolumesofmyverse, Unread,unpublished,nevertoberead, Unlessmyhandshouldguidetheirhandstograsp Thatstillspontaneouspartofme,thoughdead.

Theemptyairunknowingfingersheld Wasmyfleshonce,thepuzzlingstickiness Theyfelt,thecrystalstreamofinspiration;

YetwasIloathemyselfatlasttoyield, Theurgeforfame,lethargicafterdeath, Subsumedwithinthewonderofcreation.

THEBALLADOFCHAUS

I

Chauslayhimselfdown FullydressedintheHall, Tobeattheready ForgoodArthur’scallII

Chauswasayouth Ofnobledescent, FortoactashisSquire KingArthurhadsentIII

Longwasthejourney AndperiloustooChaustriednottosleepButwhatcouldhedo?... IV

Chaus dreams that he wakes And Arthur is goneChaus follows on horse Through the night and gloomV

Chaus comes to a Chapel In a dark wood Where white sepulchres In the moonlight brood -

VI

Chaus enters the Chapel, A Knight lies within Stretched out on a bier; A corse pale and thinVII

Two tapers flicker

In candlesticks gold, (This is the legend As I have been told) VIII

One at the head

And one at the feet To honour the dead, As is right and meetIX Chaus hesitates -

The gold gleams brightChaus takes out one candleExtinguished its light!

X

Grasps the gold stick

With a shuddering sigh, Thrusts it down quick Between hose and thigh;

Creeps from the Chapel

Among the white tombsBut there in his pathway a stranger looms.

XII

“Have you met Arthur?” Chaus stammering asks. But the dark stranger Will not let him pass.

XIII “No. I’ve met Chaus!”

The stranger does grin. “A traitor and thief!” Chaus quails within.

XIV

He fingers the candlestick Pressed to his thigh; Will not give it up. “Return it or die!”

XV

Chaus holds his ground. Thestrangerreplied Withthethrustofasharpknife DeepinChaus’side...

XVI

Chauswokewithacry. HewasinArthur’sHall!

Hehaddreamtthewholething. Yetwhydidhecall?

XVII

Whydidhisfingers

Feelstickinessslide

Betweentheknife-blade Thatwasstillinhisside?

XVIII

Whydidhislife’sblood Gushoverhishand

Likeawet-dream Thatnowakingcanend?

XIX

Whatwasthatdeadweight Coldonhisthigh?

Arthurcamerunning, Hearinghiscry. XX

Chauslaytheredying, Hislifeebbingfast Fromthedeepwound

Wheretheknifestuckfast, XXI

Thepreciousgoldcandlestick ClaspedinhishandArthurleantoverhim Erehislifeend,

CalledaConfessor, Absolvedfromhissin SmilingtoPurgatory Chaus’souldidwin, XXIII

Votivemasseshadsaid Forthatsquirefrail, Toldtheboy’sfather Themarvelloustale, XXIV Andwithhisconsent TothechurchofSaintPaul Thecandlestickgave, Tobeseentherebyall, XXV

Thatmenmightremember Downtothisday Howdreamsaretheonetruth Whichnonecangainsay.

asonnetcycle

Somewhereaspiralnebulaexpires, Anancientpeoplevanishwithouttrace, Andgenerationsareasmortaltrash Amidtheshattereddebrisofthestars.

Somewhereadistantconstellationstirs, Aseedbeginsitsjourneytotheflesh, Andallthingsareconceivedagainafresh Beyondtheprisonoftheribs’whitebars.

Somewhereasoniswaitingforthelight, Waitingtosnugglecloseagainstourchest, Allbonykneesandadolescentweight.

Somewhereadaughterwaitstoholdustight, Heremptymouthseekingouremptybreast Beyondthefurthestconfinesofthenight.

Beyondthefurthestconfinesofthenight Wemeetourselvesaswewerewonttobe; Suchunfamiliarfamiliarity Ensuresweunderstandourselvesaright.

Nosuddenhorrorgripsuswiththesight; Nohandsarespreadacrosstheface;wesee Nomissingfingers;feltvulgarity Cancomfortneitherinourmutualplight.

HeisnotI. NotevenwhatIwas NorwhatImighthavebeen. Weareremote Asaneffectlookinguponitscause.

Newskin,newflesh,newsinews,vertebrae Tree-likereplacetheold. Butneithergloat. Iamthefuture. Heishistory

Iamthefuture.Heishistory.

Buthistory’slongshadowclimbsthestair, Darkensthepresentlandingwhereweare, Mountsuptomockatallourcertainty.

Yetclimbwemust. Ourownsterility Ofmindandheartfitcompanytoshare

Thefuture’sfinalpouncefromitsdarklair. Iamtheknifeandthevasectomy.

Thewoundsarehealed. Thescabsarewashedaway. Butthinwhitelinesofscartissueremain. Timewillrepairthat. Yetwhocangainsay

Theunexpected,potentmoment. There!

Thesuddenshaftofsunlightthroughthepane, Makingablazingnimbusofthehair

Makingablazingnimbusofthehair Isallthepresentmomentwillallow: Illuminationpasses,andthebow Ofcolouredlightfadesintheemptyair.

Thestairsascendindarkness. Thedarkstair, Solidbeneathourfeet,isallweknow Darknessascendinglikewisefrombelow Wouldseemtopreachacounselofdespair.

Thepetrifyingthresholdwherewestand Knowsupanddownaspossibilities Onlyofpastandfuture. Yetourhand

Claspingthebannister,itsknuckleswhite, Seemstobereadytodepartinpeace, Catchingalastfaintgleamoffadinglight.

Catchingalastfaintgleamoffadinglight Ourhandproceedsus,yetseemsofthepast; Seemsnotahandbutmoreaplastercast Madefromourhandwhenyoung. Observetheright.

Themiddlefinger. See!stillthinandwhite, Thehop-knifescar,healedlongago,sticksfast, Despitenewflesh,newskin;seemstooutlast OldTime,whichwouldobliterateitquite.

Andyetthehandfeelsdead. Notasitdid When,withitsfellowpractisinglonghours, Eachfingerwasalivewithtinglingblood.

ButTimeseemseverypartofustorob. Nomore,asinthosepianisticyears, Handstwinetogether,fingerspulseandthrob.

Handstwinetogether,fingerspulseandthrob, Stillsensitiveonlyinmemory

Differentnow,wefeelstrangesympathy

Withwhatwewere: Thechildwhowoulddisrobe

Shyly,discreetly,hidinghismanhood Asthoughitwerenotcommonproperty Buthisalone: Later,virility Insistingotherwise,theyouthwhostood

Nakedamongmen,gladtobeofthem, Tillonespokeoutinenvy,bringingshame: “Noneedtobesoproud! We’veallgotone!”

Quiteflaccidnow,barelyerectileflesh. Onlyinsleep’sdreamgardenweremain Potent,itsfruitsandflowerseverfresh.

Potent,itsfruitsandflowerseverfresh, Thatgardenofouryouthenchantsusstill. Ifwebuthadthecourageandthewill Toseeitasitwas,ifwecouldsmash

Thatimage,seethepastasfuturetrash, Whatpurpose? Fromthattrashwewoulddistil Aliquorpurerthanthefruit;wouldfill Ourcellarsfullofnewwinepressedafresh.

Thepasthasalwaysbeenremadebyus; Thefuturealteredtocontainthepast; Thepresentbuttheboiloffesteringpus

Wefindithardtobear,hardertoprick. Wedoteuponouragony,ourworst, Likeasickdogreturningtoitssick.

Likeasickdogreturningtoitssick Wesniffaroundthepast,swallowitwhole, Chewingtheundigestedpartsoursoul Alreadyhasrejected. Yetwestick

Atitregardless,remorselesslypick Autonomousthingsoutofourcontrol, Whilememorieswethinkthatwecanscroll Seemtoscrollus,tofillourscreen. Soquick

Thedeadarewithus. Andwerecognise Themasindreams,minglingastheywreath Intotheveryfabricofourlives.

Thedeadarewithus. Driftingindisguise Fromafarlandwhoseairwecannotbreathe. Weonlyknowthembytheirlivingeyes.

Weonlyknowthembytheirlivingeyes, Eyesthatseeourdeadeyesaslivingtoo. Abashed,weturnaway. Butaswedo, Admittingtoourselvesthedeadarewise

Beyondourknowledge,stilltheycansurprise Bythepersistencewithwhichtheypursue Thethoughtswedarenotthink,followtheclue Wedarenotfollow,throughthemazeoflies

Wedyinglive. Couldwebutseebeyond, Towherethedeadareliving,althoughdead, Andwhichwelivingdeadcanonlysound

Atmoments,whenbothdeadandlivingseem Inhabitantsofoneworld,where,unsaid, Areallwewereandallwemighthavebeen

Areallwewereareallwemighthavebeen Merelyillusionswhichwemustconstruct Inordertoexplainthepast,instruct Thepresentmoment,makethefutureseem

Apossibility? Forifweglean Aninklingofthetruthasweconduct Thisdialoguewithwhatoncewewere,deduct Thatweremakethepasttofitourscheme,

Thenwhatelsecanwedo? Thechildisdead Whowokewithsunlightinhiseyes,displaced Byyouthandyoungmanintheirturn,whofled

Downthevistasoftheyears,vanishing Intoavanishedsunlight,soeffaced Thattheyseemonewiththeirownvanishing.

Thattheyseemonewiththeirownvanishing Isnottobedenied;andyettheylive Alifeweviewobjectively;cangive Littleofself,ofpain,ofsuffering.

Perhapsthesoulisbutafeeblething, Tobearwhatitmustbearandstayalive Itneedsmustgrowacarapace,tothrive Andnotbecrushedbyallthatitmustbring

Outofthepast. Weviewwhatoncewewere, Wefeelthepainandtheindignity Atsecond-hand,adullache,touchthescar

Andbarelyflinch,desensitised,asif Anotherfeltthethingswefelt,notwe: Anotherpersoninanotherlife.

Anotherpersoninanotherlife?

Andyetthehop-knifescarpersists,despite Newskin,newflesh,newsinews. Marktheright Middlefinger. Allthefingers. Whatif

Theypulseandthrobstill,grownnotoldandstiff? Whatifourtinglingbloodstillseeksthelight, Gushingfromunhealedwound,stillflowingbright Tostainthelongdeadhop-bine? Whatifflesh

Persistsasflesh? Whatif,nowglorified, WestillmayputourfingerintheWound Whichscarcanneverheal,intotheSide

Stillsensitive,alivewithtinglingBlood? AmIthewound,thespear,theknife,thehand? AmItheunbornchildIneverhad?

AmItheunbornchildIneverhad?

Thedaughter,wantingbread,givenastone, Fedonmymarblenipples’milkalone? ThesonwhosefearsImighthavecomforted?

AmItheinfant,fullyformed,borndead? Theunformedfoetus,blighted,notyetgrown? Theinformedseed,wanderinginazone ofrubber,stainingacasualbed?

AmIallthese? Andyetwithinmeburns Amicrocosmiccosmos,newlyborn, Butfromwhosebournnotravellerreturns

SaveOne,whobringswithHim,thoughwoundedquite, Thechildwithinus,waitingtobeborne Beyondthefurthestconfinesofthenight.

Beyondthefurthestconfinesofthenight, Heremptymouthseekingouremptybreast, Apartofusandpartofalltherest, Somewhereadaughterwaitstoholdustight.

Allbonykneesandadolescentweight, Waitingtosnugglecloseagainstourchest, Hisribsourribs,hisfleshinourfleshdrest, Somewhereasoniswaitingforthelight.

Beyondtheprisonoftheribs’whitebars

Aseedbeginsitsjourneytotheflesh, Somewhereadistantconstellationstirs.

Amidtheshattereddebrisofthestars

Anancientpeoplevanishwithouttrace, Somewhereaspiralnebulaexpires.

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLV)

GESHEMINE

Acrucifixionliesinwaitforus, Afterthemanylittledeathsofdays Whichcreepwithstonygorgonstaretogaze Unmovedatourdecline. Itisenough,

Thepainsthatshootinspasmsupthearse, Thattwistthebowels,thatwrackthespine,thatblaze Instomachcrampstillweareforcedtoraise Thewhiteflagofdefeat. Allfleshisgrass.

Poormortalcreaturesbornforagony Thedayapproaches. Takeawayfromme Thissicknessuntodeath,thisultimate

Crucifixionwhichwillendourbreathing. OHolySpirit,inoursoulscreate JesusasGod’sanswertoeverything.

MYTHOLOGIES(XVIII)

ORPHEUS

FragmentfromaLostTragedy EpisodeandStasimon (Orpheus disclosed with the body of Euridice. A grieving chorus look on.)

ORPHEUS:

Youreyes,thatknowmenot,gazeinwardly, Glimpsingaparadisemysouldenied, Andnothinginlifenowscans. Eurydice! IhavelosttheMuses’franchise! Canbutsing OfthatwhichliesbeyondtheStygianpool Whereyoumustdwell. Iseeitinyourglance.

Foronthesmilinghavocofyourcheek Untimelydeathhascarveditsbenison.

CHORUS: Alas! Alas! ORPHEUS:

Myheart,likeawildbird

Beatingagainstitsrib-cagetobefree, Growswearyofthesetediouscrampedwings Madefortheboundlessblue,bylifeconfined. YethavetheyknownMedusa’sstonyglance: Mustsmashtheirfragileprison-houseinflight. Depart! Innewaffectionandnewnoise Thisstonethatismyheartmaylearntomove Toadifferentmeasure.

CHORUS:

Orpheus!

Yourmusicmovedthestonesonce. Onyourheart

Havemorepity

ORPHEUS:

PityisallIhave.

Pityforeachtomorrowwhichmustdawn

Withherlivefaceonlyamemory.

Pityforgenerationswhowillknow Herlivingpresenceonlyfrommydeadsongs.

Pityformydeadheart;formydeadsoul.

Pityforthosedeadminutesofthenight Whennodreamscome,ornodreamscomeofher.

Pityformanbereftofherinme.

CHORUS:

Orpheus,beware! Bewareofpity

Foryourself,nother

ORPHEUS:

Pityher,yousay!

HowcanIpityhereternalbliss!

Ipitytime,theworld,myself,nother!

CHORUS:

Orpheus! Yourgriefmovesustopity!

Maymovetheworldtosomethingmorelikehate: Sorrow,persistedin,canfastbecome Stubborn,indulgent,outofstepwithlife.

Menwillturnawayfromyou;womenfind Excessivemourninginsulttotheirsex.

YourEurydicethenwillseemtothem Impossible,ideal,notfleshandblood.

ORPHEUS:

Notfleshandblood! Mylove! Eurydice!

CHORUS:

Acorpse! Todieagain,ifwhatyousing Bemortalsongandnotalivingthing.

Apollo mourning strophe1 Hyacinthus dead, Boreas whining Somewhere overhead, These griefs are of worth, Give the heart room To make out of death A living bloom.

Galatea’s cries, antistrophe1 Polyphemus’wrath Which, crushing Acis, Brought a river forth, These living things too, Things of the heart, That make the blood flow And the tears start.

Egeria’ssighs, strophe2 Not to be assuaged At Numa’s demise, Such pity engaged That, undying woe, Tears without count. Became in their flow A sacred fount.

But one stands apart, antistrophe2

Zero at the bone, Niobe, her heart

Cold as any stone: When living grief dies, Dies with the years, There flows from the eyes Petrified tears.

Beware, Orpheus! epode

You called your heart stone. The living years pass: Your fate is your own. Let love move your heart, Not stony time, Make out of your art A grief sublime.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XXXIX)

CHRISTMASDAY

ChristinMajestyuponastablefloor, HarrowingofHell,theFortunateFall, RedemptionintheopeningofaDoor, IslandsoftheBlessed,theHumanSoul

Suddenlyaware,theHeartandBrain Talkingthesametongue,breathingthesamebreath, MyPainatoncebecomeAnother’sPain, AnotherDeathbecomeanotherBirth,

Sanctifyingofallearthlythings, DayswithoutendbecomeoneendlessDay, APeacenohumanunderstandingbrings, YearsintheblinkingofanEye,theWay,

Alpha,theEighthDay,countryoftheSoul, Omega,ournatureshared,madeWhole.

TRANSFIGURATION

Certainlywhatweknowiswhatweknow Howevermuchwemaythinkotherwise AndthoughwesometimesseemtobeGod’sspies Ratherthanjustamagic-lanternshow Lettingitgoatthatwecansurmise Enoughfromscatteredhintswegettogrow Somecuttingsinthegardenofourlives

Somecuttingsinthegardenofourlives Tendedwithdailycareastheyarenow Easilycanreachtheceilingortheskies Wateredandnurturedsafefromfrostandsnow

Andwereachupwardwiththemtotheprize Reachedonlywhenweseethroughalldisguise Transfigurationofthethingsweknow

LOGOS

IntheBeginningwastheWord Unletteredtillcuneiform Daringtotranscribewhatwasheard Seemedtoincuranangryfrown

Thewordassymbolhieroglyph Acquiredsoonbothsoundandsense Whichhelpedcreateanalphabet AndManhaskeptupthepretence

Thinkingthathecanunderstand Wordsthatmenwritewordsthatmensay Thinkingtheirpastmightbehisown

Whenevenwordsfromyesterday Sinkwiththeirowndustlikeastone Inscribedbeneaththepatientsand

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XLI)

(Dad’sBirthday-MumandDad’sWeddingAnniversary)

St.Mary’sin Theafternoon Aphotograph Andwebegin Thedayispast Thesnapisgone Theyearsarefled Butwegoon Andyetforus Thedayisbright Therearenoyears Thereisnonight Togetherin Thatholylight

14-September2011

TRIPTYCH UPONHISDYINGSISTER

(8-V-1941 13-VII-2012)

(i)

Whenyoulongforthemeal Yetstartingthemeal Longforthemealtobedone

Whenyoulongforsleep Yetlongbeforesleep Longforthenighttobegone

Whenyoulongfordeath Yetbreathingitsbreath Longforlifetogoon

Whenyoulongfortheworld Yetknowingtheworld Longfortheworldtocome

You’reoldBrother OldasIam

Flutteringinsleep

Heremaciatedhands

Riselikebutterflies

(iii)

Withherthedaywasclear Itsbrightimmensity Seemedtodenythefear Thatwemayceasetobe

Nowthatthedarkishere

Itseemsthatevenshe Mustgodespiteourcare Intoeternity

Weneedhavenobelief Allthatweneedtoknow Apartfrompainandgrief

Isthatwearegiven Herpainstakinglyslow DeclineintoHeaven

VILLANELLE

Iwasattemptingtowritepoetry TheMusesreiteratedoneremark AngelsaredancinginEternity

Youlaytheredyingifwecouldbutsee YourpainhadmadeforyouaHolyArk Iwasattemptingtowritepoetry

Alanwasmixinguparatatouille Oursoulscaughtfireandburnedinthedark AngelsweredancinginEternity

LevitzkiandEspritdeBuganay Hadthenourmother’skisseslefttheirmark Iwasattemptingtowritepoetry

HerwhispersofDeath’smusicality FilchedfromitssilenceaPrometheanspark AngelsweredancinginEternity

Lastmealathometogetherjustusthree YoudranktheCupaslightlyasalark Iwasattemptingtowritepoetry AngelsweredancinginEternity

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLVII)

ThebuildingblocksIplayedwithasachild

Hadsixplaneseachaspartofthedesign

Tobuildahouseonematchedcolourandline

Ipicktheblocksupbythemstillbeguiled

TheJokerinourpackofcardswaswild

Hestalkedtheroomsofyourcardhouseandmine

TheCourtCardssniggeredatourwasteoftime ClubsDiamondsHeartsandSpadestheJokersmiled

Thecardhouseandthehouseofblocksaregone

Theblocksandcardsliescatteredonthefloor

Istalkbareroomsbutfindanopendoor

Andstopbeforeitlookingforasign

Yourlastbirthdayyouwereseventy-one

IdrinktheoldwineyoudrinktheNewWine

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLVIII)

Withnothingtohide Allsufferinglawful Inyourlastdaysyoucried Thisisawful Butyouneversighed

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XLIII)

InBaptism wegodownintotheTomb areOnewithChrist

Weriseagain areResurrectedwithHim inParadise (26-February-PorphyryofGaza-Sandra’sBaptism)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XLIV)

8-May-2013

Wingsofthebutterflywingsofthedove Clusterandviewitheachsomethingtoprove Thebutterflycantemptusfromabove Thedovedescendingcoaxeswithitslove

ThatallthingsrestinGodwetookastrue Thebutterflydepartingfortheblue Thedove’sforeverreassuringcoo ButnowtheonewhorestsinGodisyou

IhavetheloveofGodandofHisMother

Ihavetheloveofmothersisterbrother Ihavethelovewehadforoneanother Yourmemory’senoughIneednoother

Andyetyoursmilingabsencesinfer Weshalleverbeagainaswewere

MYSTAGOGICVILLANELLE

ConfirmedarewebyGraceandbyGod’sLove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

TheoilofChrismsetsusonthemove

Oursinsareloosedintotheskiesabove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

ConfirmedarewebyGraceandbyGod’sLove

TheGodwhoseFleshweeatdoesnotreprove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

TheoilofChrismsetsusonthemove

Ourparentsweddingstartsuswithashove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

ConfirmedarewebyGraceandbyGod’sLove

ThebreadweofferonlyFaithcanprove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

TheoilofChrismsetsusonthemove

Yourshiningforeheaddeathcannotremove

I have no hope except in you O Lord

ConfirmedarewebyGraceandbyGod’sLove

TheoilofChrismsetsusonthemove

(3-June-SainteClotilde-Sandra’sConfirmation)

GUYFAWKESLASTMESSAGE

(found scribbled on a scrap of paper in his cell)

JesusmyGodI’mthroughwiththingshere Behindthereisdarkaheadonlybrightness Whyshrinkbackfromwhatcravencowardsfear Departintonewpurityandwhiteness

VILLANELLE

Thecandlelightreflectedinyoureyes ShowsusaplacewherethereisonlyLove Speaksofanotherlandscapeotherskies

Tellsofaworldweonlycouldsurmise Exceptthatnothingelsecangotoprove Thecandlelightreflectedinyoureyes

WatchingthePaschalCandleflamearise Outofthedarkourstonyheartstomove Speaksofanotherlandscapeotherskies

SpeaksofaCandlemaswherenoflamedies Buteveryflamereflectsasfromabove Thecandlelightreflectedinyoureyes

Andwewilllaughatgildedbutterflies BecausetheirdoublefiligreeGodwove Speaksofanotherlandscapeotherskies

NothinginEarthorHeavencandisguise NotLifenotDeathnoranythingdisprove Thecandlelightreflectedinyoureyes Speaksofanotherlandscapeotherskies 8-May-2014

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XLVIII)

Oncepluck’dtherose Nomorecanlive

Itisthecause Othellosays Undertherose’s Somanylids Rilkesupposes Noone’ssleepis

YetJesusshows Throughthosewhogive EvenGodknows Nothingbutthis Loveneverwas Lovealwaysis

8-May-2015

TRANSFIGURATIONS(XLIX)

Loveneverwas Lovealwaysis Livingbyfaith Godshowsusthis Showsusthedead LiveinHissight Justastheday Livesinthenight Showsusthatwe Alwaysexist Fromdeepestsleep Waittobekissed Wakingtosee Eternity

5-September-2016

VILLANELLE

(Written upon looking at an old photo)

WearealltherealwaysinthatSydneylight

Thefiveofuseternallytogether

Knowingthenasnowthatthereshallbenonight

Theday,themonth,theyear,allhavetakenflight

Thesunshinesineternalsummerweather

WearealltherealwaysinthatSydneylight

Acameraseemstocatchourhappyplight

Trappedinasinglephotoframeforever Knowingthenasnowthatthereshallbenonight

Knowingdestinyasneitherwrongnorright

Knowingthatitcontainsno if or whether

WearealltherealwaysinthatSydneylight

Smilingatacameralonggone,despite

Allthattheyearsmaytakeaway,whatever, Knowingthenasnowthatthereshallbenonight

Havingonetimeknownatimeofsuchdelight Glimpsingalovethatnothingcandissever

WearealltherealwaysinthatSydneylight Knowingthenasnowthatthereshallbenonight 14-September-2016

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LI)

Spentdaystardyingyououtlastthespring Sweeptheearthmajesticofthethingsweknow Carrysurrealwindsborneofunknowing Breakheavenblossomingonthebrightsnow

Daystarrebornintouncodedblue OldHeavenandoldEarthhavepassedaway Oldmenaredreamingdreamsasyoungmendo Sheerendlessnesswillendinendlessday

Darknessavertedthereshallbenonight Distanceabolishedthereisnomoresea Journeyconcludedinablazeoflight Joyfulreunionineternity

HeavenandEarthunknottingintertwine Myheartbeatsinyoursyourheartbeatsinmine

3-January-2017

4-March-2017

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LII)

Sandra’sBirthday-8May2017

Invitedtoaweddingfeast, Theinvitationcame, Butinthelistofweddingguests Icouldnotfindyourname.

Istrucktheboardandcriedaloud, “Iwillnotthenattend!”

Myheartaseverover-proud Envisagednottheend.

Formixingwiththeweddingthrong, Eachtoamanwell-dressed, Ionaplacecardfoundmyname Amongthehonouredguests.

Yetwaitingforthemealtostart, Impatientforasign, Theweddingbanquetallsetout, Thebreadandthenewwine,

Disconsolatelylookingfor

Theplacecardwithyourname, Fromoutthestillclosedchamberdoor Thebridalpartycame,

Thendarknessfallingfrommyeyes Amidtheblazeofnoon, Iontheinstantrecognised WhoweretheBrideandGroom.

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LIII)

VILLANELLEFORBRIANMCCLELLEN

(February9,1993-November10,2014)

Deathcamelikeachillingstreamfromabucketofice PrefiguringhisGethsemaneatopthetrain BrianMcClellenhasbackflippedintoParadise

Whileonthedangerousedgeofthingscastingthedice KnowingDestinyhadgrantedhimhislivingname Deathcamelikeachillingstreamfromabucketofice

Byadumbratingthemomentwhenhepaidtheprice ArmsspreadoutattheDuomocrucifiedinflame BrianMcClellenhasbackflippedintoParadise

Theunexpectedclosingaroundhimlikeavice Destroyingallhehadhopedtoknowofloveandfame Deathcamelikeachillingstreamfromabucketofice

BaptisedbysuchaFireasthishewasallgrace Refinedgoldtreadingthefieryfurnacehebecame BrianMcClellenhasbackflippedintoParadise

HisglorifiedbodyChristholdsfastinHisembrace LetFacebook’stransfiguredpagestotheworldproclaim Deathcamelikeachillingstreamfromabucketofice BrianMcClellenhasbackflippedintoParadise

15-August-2017(FeastoftheAssumption)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LIV)

TheUnicornwasintheGarden

AtfirstwithAdamandEve HeroamedwiththemintheGarden Beforetheneedtobelieve HewatchedastheylefttheGarden Buthedidnothavetoleave

TheUnicornwasintheGarden

AtGethsemaneaswell TheAgonyintheGarden Noprophetcouldforetell YetheremainedintheGarden NotknowingofDeathorHell

TheUnicornwasintheGarden

AtStrathfieldwithBillandCoo HeplayedwithusintheGarden AsonlyUnicornsdo AndnowinyourBirthdayGarden ItishisBirthdaytoo 5-September-2017

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LV)

THEUNICORNANDTHESEAHORSE

TheUnicornmettheSeahorse OnelongagoPoppyDay, Andsensingherashistobehorse Hewouldnotgoaway.

WhatcouldahaplessSeahorsedo ButyieldtoherUnicorn, Sotheyweremarried,GoogandStew, Onemyth,oneborneonthefoam, Andthuswerebornthreeoffspringswho Couldneverfeelathome:

Creaturesoffoamandofgranite, KnowingtheirDestiny Liesnotonthiscirclingplanet ButinEternity.

-September-2017

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LVI)

SomewherethereisaplacethatwecallGod

Aplaceofgracebeyondallspaceandtime WhereeveryLovewhichshowedforththeDivine Treadsstilltheveryfootprintswherewetrod

Not‘thysweetloveremembered’liketheBard

Atreasuretobestoredupintheheart Butresurrectedthereineverypart Notsoulalonebutbodyfleshandblood

Bewarethoughofthatjourneyintolight Formerelyglimpsingsuchamystery Discoveringthisnewreality Mightleaveusnothingbuttheworld’sdespite

Contentthoughifthatsingleglancecanprove YouremainISineverythingIlove

3-January-2018 16-January-2018

EASTER,2018

VILLANELLEFORARNAUDBELTRAME

HeisonewiththeMasteroftheUniverse OnewiththeWoundsandBloodintheblazeoftheSun Whilejewelledunicornsdrawbythegildedhearse

BychoosinginhismanhoodtoreceiveChristfirst Hewasalreadychoosingwhathewouldbecome HeisonewiththeMasteroftheUniverse

Withintheflagdrapedcoffinhehasfoundhisrest Otherscandothemundanethingshewouldhavedone Whilejewelledunicornsdrawbythegildedhearse

TheNewWineofHeavenalonecouldquenchhisthirst InvitedtotheWeddingFeasthecouldbutcome HeisonewiththeMasteroftheUniverse

Suchpurityofactionnothingcanreverse BecomingbyhischoicetheSacrificialOne Whilejewelledunicornsdrawbythegildedhearse

InsidehishollowedchesttherebeatstheHeartofChrist WithinChrist’sbeatingHearthisheartbeatshavebegun HeisonewiththeMasteroftheUniverse Whilejewelledunicornsdrawbythegildedhearse

(GoodFriday30-March/HolySaturday31-March/ EasterSundayI-April/EasterMonday2-April-2018)

VILLANELLEFORSANDRA’SBIRTHDAY

Loveneverlivesexceptwithoutbecause AsPascalknewthereasonsoftheheart Youaretheisofeverythingthatwas

ShakespeareandEliotneedednoexcuse Desiringthatman’sscopeandthisMan’sart Loveneverlivesexceptwithoutbecause

NothingcouldAlighieridisabuse WhenfirstheglimpsedinLoveaworldapart Youaretheisofeverythingthatwas

Returnedbackninefoldeverygiftweuse Inlyingdownwherealltheladdersstart Loveneverlivesexceptwithoutbecause

TheInfiniteisthereforustochoose Andalwaysdearthepoemswehavebyheart Youaretheisofeverythingthatwas

Wecastthediceknowingwecannotlose Thoughshipwreckwaitsevenaswedepart Loveneverlivesexceptwithoutbecause Youaretheisofeverythingthatwas

- May-2018

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LIX)

SERAPHIC DIALOGUE

Whereshallwelivewhenwearedead? InHeaven,theAngelsaid.

Howshallweliveuntilwedie? Betweentheearthandthesky

Whatshallwedotopassthetime? Seektherightmetreandrhyme.

Whereshallwedwellwhentimeisdone? Amansionbeyondthesun. 30-VI-2018

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LX)

Everythingthatwas Fructifiesinwhatis Everythingthatis Theharvestofwhatwas

Nothingeverwas Untilripefullnessis Whenwecanseetheis Ofeverythingthatwas

Everylifewelose Becomesanothergain Everypathwechoose Invitesthatvintagerain Whichprovesthegrapeofwas AlreadyisChampagne

5 - IX - 2018

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXI)

QUATRAIN for Dad’sBirthday and WeddingAnniversary

ForeveratanemptyTomb WhereBirthsandWeddingsalwaysbloom WewaitthehealingCrackofDoom TogetherinanUpperRoom 14-IX-2018

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXII)

VILLANELLEFORMUM’S ONEHUNDREDANDTWENTIETHBIRTHDAY

Whatneedwemoretosay Whereallwordsdisappear Lovenevergoesaway

Herbertknewhowtopray CallingGod Ah my dear Whatneedwemoretosay

Knowingfromdaytoday Yourpresenceevernear Lovenevergoesaway

Sowemustlovealway Patientlypersevere Whatneedwemoretosay

Justasthesaltseaspray Becomesanatmosphere Lovenevergoesaway

Trustingourweakwordsmay Findanapprovingear Whatneedwemoretosay Lovenevergoesaway

3-I-2019/ 5-I-2019

AUTOBIOGRAPHIES(XLIX)

SONNET: THEEQUILIBRIUMOFDESPAIR.

WhenDarknessengulfstheWorld AndthelastHopethatwesee BuzzeslikesomedyingBee WithitsdeadlyStingunfurled

WhenSatanwrestleswithGod Andtheoutcomeseemsindoubt WethinktheunholyLout MusttrampleallthatisGood

Thentreadingthetautenedrope StretchedbetweenHopeandDespair Notglancingdownbutaware OftheStruggleunderfoot

ToloseourfellBalancewe FallintoEternity

VILLANELLE

HavingpassedthroughtheDoor Wherechildhooddreamsholdsway WeareEmbracedoncemore

ThroughthetransparentFloor BeyondtheMilkyWay HavingpassedthroughtheDoor

Hereinthedeepheart’score HearingwhatAngelssay WeareEmbracedoncemore

Greeninourheartswestore EachtreasuredEighthofMay HavingpassedthroughtheDoor

BlessédnowasthePoor LivinglifeDaybyDay WeareEmbracedoncemore

OnethingofwhichI’msure PlayingasChildrenPlay HavingpassedthroughtheDoor WeareEmbracedoncemore

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXIV)

VILLANELLE

‘istud quod digitis, Pontice, perdis, homo est’.

MartialEpigramsIX;41

Eachbreathwetakeengendersourlastbreath

Ourfirstcryseparatesourlivesforgood

Theonlythingworthlivingforisdeath

Theseveredcordstillyearnsthewombbereft

Thesunkennavelseeksitsnativefood

Eachbreathwetakeengendersourlastbreath

Wecometoitatlastwithpotentyouth

Indissipationfingeringhardwood

Theonlythingworthlivingforisdeath

Themeatusweepshottearsatthestillbirth

Theunheardcriesalltothesilencestrewed

Eachbreathwetakeengendersourlastbreath

Alifetimespentseekingaplaceofrest

Tostopthehurlyburlyintheblood

Theonlythingworthlivingforisdeath

YetChrist’sHeartbeatsforeverinourchest

HisBloodandBodyproofthatweareloved

Eachbreathwetakeengendersourlastbreath

Theonlythingworthlivingforisdeath

1/8/10-VIII-2019

VILLANELLEFORALANBRECK

Willyouthenletmeshareamostgreatmystery

Ifattheendthebeginningweremember Willweallbetogetherineternity

Justasthethemesdevelopinasymphony

Doesthefirstbarattheverylastsurrender

Willyouthenletmeshareamostgreatmystery

Ifeverymonthisequalinhumility

JanuaryfirstthenMayJuneandSeptember Willweallbetogetherineternity

Considerthemysteriesoftherosary Thesorrowfulmustthegloriousengender

Willyouthenletmeshareamostgreatmystery

Ifthewholeuniverseendsthusinentropy

ThegiftoflifeisgivenbacktotheSender

Wewillallbetogetherineternity

Thenallthedarknessofourlittlehistory Eclipsestheverynoondaysuninsplendour

Willyouthenletmeshareamostgreatmystery Wewillallbetogetherineternity

4/5-IX-2019

EverythingthatLovehasshowntome Thingsthatlackbanality’sfalseear CanbecomethesourceofPoetry

Canbecomethestartofmystery Wherewithlovelythingsmayreappear EverythingthatLovehasshowntome

Jettrailshieroglyphically Onthebluenesswheretheydisappear CanbecomethesourceofPoetry

MakingthemereproseofHistory Vanishintothissameatmosphere EverythingthatLovehasshowntome

Thusembarkingonastormysea OneWordonlycanallayourfear CanbecomethesourceofPoetry

SotogetherinEternity Onewithyouforevertoholddear EverythingthatLovehasshowntome CanbecomethesourceofPoetry

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXVII)

SANDRA’SBIRTHDAY

Sandrayouare Alwayswithus Nuncetsemper Divisionless Realcommunion Alwaysgiven Scentofheaven Soughtreunion Timelesskisses Eternity Werefashion Allourlosses Resurrection Thatistobe 8-V-2020

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXVIII)

Alan’sBirthdayVillanelle

Dustydeathswallowsallouryesterdays Foolsthinkthecandleisextinguishedquite RelitinHeavenangelsknowtopraise

Alwaystherepresentinourbrightestdays Everytomorrowseemstosenseitsblight Dustydeathswallowsallouryesterdays

Stillwegoseekingforthewordorphrase Thatmightconfirmforusthecandlelight RelitinHeavenangelsknowtopraise

Yetnaturegivestousitsgraveyardgaze Tellsusthateventhoughtodaybebright Dustydeathswallowsallouryesterdays

Thusmarkingoutforusourfestivedays

Yourbirthdaycandlespeaksofthatdelight RelitinHeavenangelsknowtopraise

Wishingbeforeitsevanescentblaze Flashinganinstantonthedarkernight Dustydeathswallowswithouryesterdays RelitinHeavenangelsknowtopraise

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXIX)

SevenEgyptionplagues

Eachonemoreterrifying YetGodkeepsupHisSleeves Allmannerofrectifying

Augustinethusbelieves TheEighthDay’ssanctifying OfallCreationleaves Ustimelessglorifying

ForJosephbeingwarnedtofly InadreamthewrathofHerod FoundanEgyptravagedby ItsownfirstcenturyCovid WhereJesuscouldsafelylie InHismother’sarmsbeloved (3-I-2021-Mum’sBirthday) (10-I-2021-TheBaptismofOurLord-OctaveofMum’sBirthday)

ABIRTHDAYPOEM

Needswemustattendtothesublime

Feelingrisingsapwithinthetree Timelesslyawaitingtimelesstime

Wherefreefromwordswecanwritealine Sensingallwordsfrailfutility Needswemustattendtothesublime

Knowinginspirationwillrepine

Facedwithwhathasbeenandwhatmustbe Timelesslyawaitingtimelesstime

Whenwaterwillbechangedintowine Notanotherglibbanality Needswemustattendtothesublime

Seekingsomecelestialdesign Toexplainawaythisecstasy Timelesslyawaitingtimelesstime

Andyouarethere-abletodefine Dogmaswhichhadseemedallmystery Needswemustattendtothesublime Timelesslyawaitingtimelesstime

(8-5-2021-Sandra’sBirthday)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXXI)

Suddenlyintheskiestherewasgreatcommotion TheangelsinHeavencamewithbannersunfurled Inabrightcloudcherubspassedovertheocean Foruponthisdayyouhadcomeintotheworld

ForGodinHisWisdomhadthoughtupthenotion OfManinHisImagethoughanembryocurled Andwhatseemstousquiteasimplesolution WasnotbeforeTimewasandprimalchaoswhirled

Butthisisabstractionandnotforusmortals Whosethoughtisconfinedtoabirthdaycakeandtea ButwhereChampagneCocktailscanopentheportals Onwhatisintruthanineffablemystery

OnSeptemberthefifthaccordingtoGod’splan InaclinicinWelbeckStreetyouweremademan.

(5-9-2021-Alan’sBirthday)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXXII)

THETRIUMPHOFTHECROSS

(Myfather’sbirthday and weddinganniversary)

BornontheFourteenth dayofSeptember theCross’sTriumph historemember DescendingwithHim throughthevariousHells ofGethsemane’sSomme Golgotha'sDardanelles hisTriumphtocome infar-flungSydneybells

Sohesettledhischoice havingsearchedEastandWest onaPearlofgreatprice andforsookalltherest

(14/28-IX-2021)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXXIII)

SpeaktomenotofLoveandFame WasFannyanhour’screaturefair? BecausemyHeartisallaflame

DantetoBeatricecame FoundinherglanceEternalCare SpoketohernotofLoveandFame

Petrarchhadbuttowritethename OfLauraandshewouldappear BecausehisHeartwasallaflame

PercythoughtnottoLoveagain TillJane’sguitarstringsreachedhisear SpoketohimnotofLoveandFame

Althoughuponadiff’rentPlane

IclosemyeyesandyouareHere BecausemyHeartisallaflame

ThereforewithinthePoet’sbrain EternityisNowmydear!

SpeaktousnotofLoveandFame BecauseourHeartsareallaflame

(Mum’sBirthday-January3-2022) (December29/30/31-2021)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXXIV)

VillanelleforSandra

SummerWinterSpring LovethePoetssing Loveiseverything

LoveEverlasting Spitewhatyearsmaybring SummerWinterSpring

WhiletoyouIcling SisteroftheSpring Loveiseverything

Moodsinstinctiveswing Backtoourparting SummerWinterSpring

Yetinhabiting HeavenUnending Loveiseverything

ThereJesusisKing SparrowsontheWing SummerWinterSpring LoveisEverything

(Sandra’sBirthday-May8-2022) (May4/5/6/9-2022)

TRANSFIGURATIONS(LXXV)

Monday6thofJune2022at6.30am

Daybreak and a candle-end

IfwearetheRightStuff WithGod’sintervention MaybeLoveisenough

Boththesmoothandtherough WillleadtoRedemption IfwearetheRightStuff

Yetinspiteofthedross Godseestheintention MaybeLoveisenough

Andalthoughwemayscoff Atsuchself-deception IfwearetheRightStuff

Wecancrywecanlaugh ToseekGod’sattention MaybeLoveisenough

Breathinginourfirstbreath WithourResurrection IfwearetheRightStuff MaybeLoveisEnough

Monday6th/Tuesday7th/Wednesday8thJune2022

BIRTHDAYVILLANELLE5SEPTEMBER2022

AsDeathdestroysaworldinMan’sdisguise Annihilatesaplanetutterly SoonlyDeathcanleadtoParadise

YouwereaworldIsawitinyoureyes Sawteeminglifeandsawwhatistobe AsDeathdestroysaworldinMan’sdisguise

Onegalaxyisformedanotherdies Andteeminglifeisbornfromthedebris SoonlyDeathcanleadtoParadise

DeathistheFactallotherfactsarelies

Wemustliveoninhopefulcertainty AsDeathdestroysaworldinMan’sdisguise

OrmakewithCortez’smenawildsurmise FindintheWordeternalPoetry SoonlyDeathcanleadtoParadise

AswebeholdtheGreatActsintheSkies Acceptthosethingswhichareallmystery SoDeathdestroysaworldinMan’sdisguise AsonlyDeathcanleadtoParadise

(Alan’sBirthday-Monday5September2022) (September2/3/5-2022)

MUM’SBIRTHDAY2023

TheBeegivesupitslife

TocourtDeathwithasting Knowingitsacrifice Notlessthaneverything

GritthePearlofGreatPrice Whoseconstantmothering TheOysterwillsuffice PrayGodthenthoughitbring

ExileinEgyptfor TheGraceofSuffering Togripusfurthermore

AstultifyingSpring Wouldnotequipusfor TheSummeroftheKing

(Mum’sBirthday-Tuesday3/Wednesday4/Saturday7/Sunday8/Monday 9January-2023)

ThePoetaVampire

Inthemirroremptyair Readerlookinthepoem Seeyourownreflectionthere