TAPE FOR THE TURN OF THE YEAR (1965)
for Josephine Jacobsen and Elliott Coleman
today I
decided to write
a long
thin
5poem
employing certain
classical considerations:
this
part is called the pro-
10logue: it has to do with
the business of
getting started:
Muse
15must be acknowledged,
saluted, and implored:
I cannot
write
without her help
20but when
her help comes it’s
water from spring heights,
warmth and melting,
stream
25inexhaustible:
I salute her, lady
of a hundred names—
Inspiration
Unconscious
30Apollo (on her man side)
Parnassus (as her
haunt)
Pierian spring (as
the nature of her
35going)
Hippocrene
Pegasus:
most of all she’s a
woman, maybe
40a woman in us, who sets
fire to us, gives us no
rest
till her
will’s done:
45because I’ve decided, the
Muse willing,
to do this foolish
long
thin
50poem, I
specially beg
assistance:
help me!
a fool who
55plays with fool things
so fools and play
can rise in the regard of
the people,
provide serious rest
60and sweet engagement
to willing minds:
and the Muse be manifest:
I’m attracted to paper,
visualize
65kitchen napkins
scribbled
with little masterpieces:
so
it was natural for
70me (in the House &
Garden store one
night a couple weeks
ago) to contemplate
this roll of
75adding-machine tape, so
narrow, long,
unbroken, and to penetrate
into some
fool use for it: I
80thought of the poem
then,
but not seriously: now,
two weeks
have gone by, and
85the Muse hasn’t
rejected it,
seems caught up in the
serious novelty:
I get weak in
90the knees
(feel light in the head)
when I look down
and see
how much footage is
95tightly wound in that
roll: once started,
can I ever get
free
of the thing, get it in
100and out of typewriter
and mind? one
rolled end, one
dangling, coiling end?
will the Muse fill it
105up immediately and let me
loose? can my back
muscles last? my mind,
can it be
as long as
110a tape
and unwind with it?
the Muse takes care of
that: I do what I
can:
115may this song be plain as
day, exact and bright!
no moonlight to loosen
shrubs into
shapes that
120never were: no dark
nights to dissolve
woods into one black
depthless dimension:
may this song leave
125darkness alone, deal
with what
light can win into clarity:
clarity & simplicity!
no muffled talk, fragments
130of phrases, linked
without logical links,
strung
together in obscurities
supposed to reflect
135density: it’s
a wall
to obscure emptiness, the
talk of a posing man who
must talk
140but who has nothing to
say: let this song
make
complex things salient,
saliences clear, so
145there can be some
understanding:
today
I feel a bit different:
my prolog sounds phony &
150posed:
maybe
I betrayed
depth
by oversimplification,
155a smugness,
unjustified sense of
security:
last
night I
160read
about the
geologic times
of the Northwest, the
periodic eruptions into
165lava plateaus,
forest grown, stabilized,
and drowned
between eruptions:
in the
170last
10,000 years (a bit of
time) the
glaciers have been
melting, some now unfed,
175disconnected, lying dead
and dissolving in
high
valleys: how strange
we are here,
180raw, new, how ephemeral our
lives and cultures,
how unrelated
to the honing out of
caves and canyons:
185the lands, floating, rise
and fall, unnoticed in the
rapid
turning over
of generations:
190we, rapids in a valley
that millennially sinks:
nothing’s simple, but
should we add
verbal complexity?
195is there a darkness
dark words should
imitate?
I mean to stay on the
crusty
200hard-clear surface: tho
congealed
it reflects the deep,
the fluid, hot motions
and intermotions where,
205after all, we
do not live:
10,000 yrs
Troy
burned since then:
210but the earth’s been
“resting”—entering
a warm
cycle: the Sumerians
had not, that long ago,
215compiled
their
holy bundle of
the elements of civil-
ization, nor
220had one city-state stolen
it from another:
ten thousand years: how
many Indians is that,
fishing the northern
225coast, marrying, dying?
coming & going, they
left no permanent sign
on the warming
trend:
230I hadn’t meant
such a long prolog: it
doesn’t seem
classical to go ahead
without a plan:
235wonder what plan
the Indians had
10 M years ago: the
thought defines
our sphere:
240why should a world be
bigger than what a man
can reach
and taste and strike &
burn & hunt & hold?
245bigger than
that is metaphysics which
tho entertaining
is inedible
and unsurrendering: what’s
25010,000 years to us,
blips on
radar screens?
in the blip is all
imperishable possibility:
255not unity, not all—
but the full,
complete: we can
in moments have
that
260but when we
surround mind & world
to say all
in a single word,
we kill advantage with
265the cost of gain:
can’t we break loose
and live?
I wish I had a great
story to tell: the
270words then
could be quiet, as I’m
trying to make them now—
immersed in the play
of events: but
275I can’t tell a great
Odysseus, I couldn’t
survive
pulling away from
280Lestrygonia, 11 of
12 ships lost
with 11 crews: I couldn’t
pull away with
the joy of one
285escaped with his life:
I’d search myself pale
with
responsibility, tho I’d
be in the wrong: that
290we can’t predict what
our actions will lead to
absolves us, tho not
altogether: we’re held
to right deeds
295and best intentions:
my story is how
a man comes home
from haunted
lands and transformations:
300it is
in a way
a great story:
but it doesn’t unwind
into sequence: it stands
305still
and stirs
in itself like
boiling water
or hole of maggots: foam
310or crust
can rise and
sweep away into
event: but not
much of that:
315mostly inner resolutions,
countermotions
that may work themselves
out
into peace,
320bring the man
home, to
acceptance of his place
and time,
responsibilities and
325limitations: I mean
nothing mythical—
Odysseus
wandering in a ghost-deep
background—I mean only
330or as much as
restoration
which takes many forms &
meanings:
but the story, tho
335contained,
unwinds on this roll
with time & event: grows
like a tapeworm, segment
by
340segment: turns
stream corners: issues
in low
silence
like a snake
345from its burrow: but
unwinding and unwound, it
coils again on
the floor
into the unity of its
350conflicts:
the way I could tell
today
that yesterday is dead
is that
355the little gray bird
that sat
in the empty
tree
yesterday is gone:
360yesterday and
bird are gone:
I know there’s no use
to look
for either of them, bird
365running from winter,
yesterday
running downstream
to some ocean-pocket of
rest
370whence it may sometime
come again (changed), new
as tomorrow:
how like a gift
the memory
375of bird and empty tree!
how
precious
since we may not have
that configuration
380again:
today is full of things,
so many,
how can they be managed,
received and loved
385in their passing?
on the bridle path
this morning
yellow horse-turds
glistened
390with the moisture of
intestines:
a purple leaf occupied a
bush—a dozen kinds of
lichen on an oak:
395eelgrass stood straight
up
on underwater banks:
someone told an
elephant joke: how do
400you kill a blue elephant?
with a
blue-elephant gun: how
do you kill a white
elephant? with a
405white-elephant gun? no,
you tie a string around
turns blue
you shoot him with a
410blue-elephant gun:
a little boy said, “Up,
up,” begging to ride his
daddy’s shoulders, and the
morning was warm and
415winter-bright:
from completeness
should one turn away?
so they drank wine
and ate meat
420and slept:
the shores fled
under the wind’s weight:
why does an elephant lie
on his back? to trip the
425birds:
tonight, so
compressed is
change,
we’re having
430warm weather and windy
rain: the house, however,
smells of
fruitcakes baking and
merriment curls along the
435ceiling,
giggles down the walls,
and tickles the floor:
the inexhaustible
multiplicity & possibility
440of the surface: while the
depths are
generalized into a
few
soluble drives,
445interesting, but to be
returned from:
the crust keeps us: the
volcano-mind
emits
450this ribbon of speech,
smoke & heat
that held
would bust the cone off,
inundate the house
455with direct melt:
but let off, there’s
easing, mind cool, the
slow accretion of hard
rock:
460doesn’t matter how much
the core shifts
long as we have these
islands to live on: we’re
in a
465solid, hard, exact world
that tells all we
need to know of depth:
art casts into being, the
glow-wobbling metal
470struck by a
difference of ice:
both necessary:
without flow, there’s no
resource for crust:
475without ice,
no sharp steel:
death is life’s
prerequisite:
this is that & that is this
480& on and on: why can’t
every thing be just itself?
what’s the use of the
vast mental burden
of correspondence? doesn’t
485contribute to the things
resembled:
except in the mind: except
in the mind: there’s
the reality that needs to
490hold:
9:35 pm: lightning! what,
in December? just flashed
blue-bright and
thunder, moving slowly
495and rumbling hard into
deep bursting depressions,
went all the way out over
the Atlantic: now, will
the ground, shaken
500loose, turn green,
loam to new roots?
the old people say it’s
a use
of thunder: but this time
505of year, the seeds asleep,
thunder’s sterile
disturbance runs dreams
through the meat of the
future, a prophecy: no,
510fancy,
never satisfied with
wonderless things as
they are: it’s the
return of air upon
515itself, following an
electrical discharge and
separation: the grass
seeds, hanging
in clumps on soaked stalks,
520paid no attn &
thought of nothing:
wind and rain have
stopped: the
thunder was a gigantic
525period, punched over &
over: or do I hear now
a submissive, unwilling
drizzle?
sequence: events
530stalled in their
occurrence: a
running with, fleet
recorder at the crest of
change: a plane is in
535this: it rumbles in the
distance, a chord through
my circular knowledge: it
is out in the rain:
sunny again:
545the nature of flame to
rise, celebrant, spirit
to whirl upward:
80
11111111111111111111111
55011111111111111111111111
11111111111111111111111
11111111111
555grieved, we
rejoice
as a man rejoices saved
from death: we beg
that men be spared
560calamity & the hard turn:
we make an offering of our
praise: we reaccept:
our choice is
gladness:
565give us an idea!
let us be sorted out and
assembled: let a new
order occur
from the random &
570nondescript:
let thoughts & emotions
fall behind into rank: or
return us from all idea to
undifferentiated
575sensation—paradise:
1 pm:
had the storm last night
come half a mile farther
east, it would have
580taken my roof off and
wet my poem
(and my pants): it
“had a little twister in
it,” the man at the
585Esso station said, came
right up the parkway,
took off
his plate-glass windows,
shattered the
590outdoor movie’s tall
wooden marquee,
took the roof off
the concession and off
the Circle Diner and
595busted a window in
Kinney’s: “must have been
a sucker,” he said, “lifted
oil cans right off the
shelves”
600reality last night was
more than I apprehended:
is far more today
than feebleness lets me
know:
605wind ruined several dead
weeds and rain
de-seeded a lot of grass:
the cloud patterns
must have been fine,
610dark roils
hidden by rain:
I wonder what all did
happen? but
the record
615can’t reproduce event:
even if I could know &
describe every event, my
account would
consume the tape & run
620on for miles into air:
those who rely on facts
have not heard:
those who rely on
arrangements—are
625sometimes unwilling
to surrender them:
those who rely on any shore
foolishly haven’t faced
it that
630only the stream is
reliable: get
right up next to the
break between
what-is-to-be and
635what-has-been and
dance like a bubble
held underwater by water’s
pouring in: when the grass
moves on the hill,
640it’s impossible to tell
whether it has moved or
will move:
my “mind” is trying to
keep every cell
645in my body
happy: yes, it says, we
understand that you need
so-and-so but we’re
temporarily (we hope)
650out of that and are having
a substitute manufactured—
this will be released to
you as soon as
possible: be sure to alert
655your receiving dept: it
gets an alarm from a group
of injured or invaded cells:
we are
sending several divisions
660& several kinds of
divisions to help you:
and so on:
catalysts, enzymes &
membranes, functions,
665trades & forces, the
in-coming, out-going:
this mind that I turn
outwardly—how thin by
comparison—
670the body releases from
inner concerns and
gives few commands: get
food, water, sex: then
reality brings its
675interference in
and the simple outward
mind, complicated by
postponements, symbols,
prerequisites, proofs,
680nearly loses in
metaphysics &
speculations its
contact with the
original commands: get
685food, water: sex
is put upon you as the lust
of generations:
it has been made to
seem pleasurable
690but is subservience
to the cry of flesh to
endure: the inner
mind says—do that for
the cells, for us, and we
695will free you to the
pleasures of the
outer mind:
get food, get water: sex
is a fire we send you:
700quench it into
generations:
be brought low of the fire:
I’ve
given up hope of
705understanding for
what good is
understanding?
understanding
what?
710the conversion of
currencies:
the multiplication tables:
IQ:
quantum theory & baby’s
715formula
and how to replace the
shingles & whether to put
the money in SKF or
Xerox, and the clauses in
720insurance plans &
the “political
situation”:
plenty of food & water in
paradise but some
725confusion about sex:
anything so sweet
should come hard
as bread & water: so
they were given the
730gate: and
Eden survives in the mind
as half a solution:
analyze and project:
experience teaches
735but stands to be
taught:
4:50 pm: the checker at
the A & P said
he was returning from
740Philly about 9:15 last night
and saw it: said the sky
lit up,
he didn’t know why
till the radio sd later:
745said it wasn’t hit by no
lightning: said
they have things
hanging from the wings:
said
750he thinks it was
turbulence, wind
turbulence—can take a
plane apart: woman
said
755she’s been up there & it
“gives her a funny feeling”:
one night I saw
something come apart
over Vineland: it
760streaked in, glowed, &
slowly tore apart:
I thought it was a
satellite
re-entering:
765but next day read in the
papers it was seen from
Virginia to Connecticut:
too big to land, as
I thght it wd
770in Millville: was no
small potatoes:
first there was this blue
flash:
here are “motions”
775that play in and out:
unifying
correspondences that
suggest we can approach
unity only by the loss
780of things—
a loss we’re unwilling
to take—
since the gain of unity
would be a vision
785of something in the
continuum of nothingness:
we already have things:
why fool around:
beer, milk,
790mushroom cream sauce,
eggs, books, bags,
telephones & rugs:
pleasure to perceive
correspondences, facts
795that experience is
holding together, that
what mind grew out of
is also holding together:
otherwise? how could we
800perceive similarities?
but all
the way to unity is
too far off: we have
a place:
805at dusk a deep blue
sweeping smooth
cloud mass went just
between us
and the ocean:
810but the night is
clear and full of stars:
sunshine & shade
alternate at 32: winter
seems about to, but hasn’t
815quite decided how to
happen:
(ideas give direction
but sometimes the wrong . . .)
when the first
820horizontal haze of
sunlight struck the sumac
thicket this morning,
bluejay flew in
and sat on an outside
825limb, his
appreciation, meditative
but imperfect, troubled
by starlings:
no place to stop:
830the pure moment
self-centered & posed:
I heard of a little girl
who wrote not
“poems,” but
835“feelings”—some tissue
resulting from
things & feelings
at interplay:
to make a world
840we need out of the reality
that is
and is indifferent:
but play
removing us—we must be
845careful—a point away
from reality, though
an uncreated, unspecific
reality—that is, in a
sense, no reality at all:
850what is out there? beyond
the touch of what
we make?
whatever,
stars shine through it
855& bring us up
short:
we make a context
that lets us out, permits
fullest life: we must
860care for ourselves,
assume that, beyond,
we are cared for:
rely on feeling—
till it goes too far:
865then
on sweet reason which
recalls, restores, and
levels off: we must all
die, it’s quite
870remarkable—
nevertheless, true:
but breakfast, and getting
off to school & work, and
what color to paint the
875second bedroom is
meaningful: it’s
no
great
joy to me
880that I plunge deeply
(I think) into things:
eternal
significance is of some
significance to me: I
885don’t know just how: but
temporal significance is
a world I can partly make,
loss & gain:
the social order obtains
890identity
at the cost of certain
exclusions: unity
by the elimination of
difference: the pleasure
895of the order is shared by
many, but the cost
falls on a few: should
the many
be denied to relieve
900the suffering of the few?
should the few pay
and not enjoy?
if it’s the few
who, alive to suffering,
905advance the mind, do they
have their reward? and
the callous many? is
smugness the cost of their
pleasure?
910motions of
society & psyche: what’s
to be done?
ever been done?
greater tolerance of random
915without obliterating
identity?
relieve the suffering of
the few & enrich the
many with difference?
920if the oppressed are
freed, will they become
callous
and unfruitful?
will you have the secure
925few and the oppressed
many?
is freedom
identity without
identity?
930who’s not working, slashing,
sweating, devising,
cheating to
surpass the many and
rise into
935the Few: (only a few
who pride
themselves on being the
Bottom Few?): is the
fight for the Top
940the true mystique? first dibs
on food & sex:
I know you,
man:
am grateful to the
945order, however imperfect,
that restrains you,
fierce, avaricious: the
Top: Olympus,
the White House, the Register:
950many lesser peaks in the
range: choose one and
fight:
that’s equality: if
inequality, must
955be a few hills even
there:
what’s the way home?
home?
what’s wrong with these
960deserts, excitements, shows:
excursions:
home is every minute,
occurring? just like this?
man, you’re sweet &
965gentle to
those who are
no
threat to your
mt
970but are
evidences that
you occupy one:
I have your #: it’s
me first after you:
975Odysseus screwed a lot but
never got screwed: or
if he did, he screwed back
harder, first
chance he got: he never
980“took nothing lying down”:
my song’s now
long enough to screw a
right good-sized article
with:
985flexible to vault me
to the Top:
I hope it will lift me into
your affections:
that’s what I need:
990the top I’ve chosen,
the mt I wd climb:
the nest I’ve pro-
vided
for this
995song to wind into is
the wastebasket: that’s
symbolic: the roll, tho,
unwinds from the
glazed bottom of an
1000ashtray: I don’t
know what to make
of that:
phoenix?
why always
1005make something out of
everything?
maybe this song
will be about getting
home
1010and figuring out some
excuse to leave again:
that wd be gd bth cmng &
gng:
the clouds, continuous,
1015are creased with light
between furrows: like a
forehead, opposite with
shadow:
just sat down
1020to smoke, and the sun cast
my hand against the
wall, and my cigarette,
plus the lively shadow of
cigarette smoke:
1025that vast, immediate, hot
body
touching me:
the sustaining
chemistries that
1030separate it from me:
plankton, grass, pears,
apples, cows: steaks
holding heat,
the vessels of heat;
1035lambchops, chickenwings,
green peas, mushrooms,
cornflakes, coffee, pecans,
storers & storages of
heat: the warmth
1040on my hand,
inside my hand: I
wonder
I don’t
think about it more often:
1045transfigurations, touch:
touches
everything and leaves a
shadow: kelp & birds &
pebbles even & each
1050individual blade of grass
& outhouses & mountains &
dead trees: even clear
water, toward the bottom,
accumulates some shadow:
1055intimate,
necessary
& hardly ever
mentioned: often
complained of, “the
1060sun’s in my eyes”:
this burning while imprtnt
theories are discussed &
business goes forward:
“goods were shipped
1065last Thurs via PP”
ASAP, CIF, & FAS: & the
lemon industry:
the sun, riding a moment-
to-moment crest: I
1070hope it will keep on
riding: it’s not a
fixture:
noticed how
some nights the stars
1075are raw & brand new?
make you feel
slightly
uneasy?
it’s the size
1080& distance
unwinds you,
pulls you out
attenuating you
into
1085nothingness
till you grasp
around
at star-straws:
anybody doesn’t believe in
1090reality should
try to start a dead car
on a 10-degree
morning:
maximum definition of
1095detail along
with
assumptions of symmetry:
I feel ideas—as forms of
beauty: I describe
1100the form as
you describe a pear’s
shape:
not idea as ideal—
ideas are human products,
1105temporal & full of
process:
but
idea as perception of form,
outside form that
1110corresponds
to inner form, & inner to
outer:
(chaos at the bottom of
things & mind: only ideas
1115lift up from
there: only
groupings, saliences
of similarity &
difference, only
1120clustering rises into
intelligence—instinct
itself an ordering,
overcoming great odds:)
a few flies are still
1125hanging around
the front porch:
they’re big blue:
when the door opens
they stir
1130in the sun:
they remember or
still have the scent
of the cat that was
rotting behind my
1135blue spruce: it’s
been below freezing
I don’t know how many
nights: I thought that
was supposed to lay them
1140but it ain’t laid’em
yit:
looks like it ain’t
agonna: we can
know only so much & even
1145explanations
that hang round long as
flies
have a way of going off:
one of these days
1150a snow’s crusty freeze
will draw’em a line
fiercer
than cat scent:
catch them
1155napping at night
under leaves: turn
into some nap: long,
rich, bluegreen
dreams:
1160beautiful, healthy-
looking flies, ate good,
long as the cat lasted:
had their day in
the sunny nooks
1165with lovely buzzes:
they changed the forecast
today from
partly sunny to
mostly cloudy: not by
1170prophecy:
stuck their
heads out the window &
tho the instruments
didn’t agree reduced
1175the gap between
prophecy & existent fact:
the direct
yields abundance, while
calculation
1180drags upon the event:
I beg that my eyes that are
open
be opened, that the
drives, motions,
1185intellections, symbologies,
myths—lift,
expose me
to direct
sight: seeing, I
1190color, alter, hide, accent:
but what is there, naked
& nonhuman?
or here, deep &
terrifyingly human?
1195are we confined in an atom
with fiery nucleus? is
there too much room,
the ego under threat of
dispersion?
1200you—who are you? how do
I feel about you?
do I hate it that I love
to be tied to you by love?
untied, wd I be free
1205or lost?
but for
your own sake: who
are you?
can I help? is there any
1210thing I can do:
are things
working out
all right for you? what
are those black areas?
1215are they parts
of you that can’t
fall into place,
come into light?
are they longings &
1220fears only dreams whisper?
I love you the best
I know how:
encounter me with
belief:
1225are you getting yours?
getting & giving
yours, mine, & ours,
are we resolving most of
the areas, are we touching
1230on elation
enough?
do I love you mostly, or
the thought of us
together?
1235are you hoping that
giving will make up for
not getting? that wd
be the course of saints:
get, too: get it
1240from me: I have it
and having
it for you, I get mine:
who are you, deeper?
have I sounded you? was
1245that
bottom I struck? but oh
up in the heart & around
your breasts
and to speak of the deep
1250in your eyes, have
I come into your
measure? are
you getting yours? have
you been had?
1255you’ve had me: I float:
every cell
comes to this:
you are
beautiful: you are
1260just beautiful:
beautiful: thank you:
11:16 a.m: a blur of light
just came into
the room,
1265lived a few seconds, then
died away:
my crown-of-thorns,
waiting, got the benefit,
struck across the middle:
1270the instruments were
right in a way:
emphasis distinguishes
partly sunny from mostly
cloudy: if it don’t
1275snow it’s gonna miss
a good chancet: I’ll
say that:
lagging behind the event:
running to catch up: to
1280be at the
crest’s break, the
running crest,
event becoming word:
anti-art & non-classical:
1285in art, we do not run
to keep up with random
moments, we select
& create
the moment
1290occurring forever:
timelessness held
at the peak of time:
(just went to take a leak:
jay on the back lawn,
1295hopping, looking around,
turning leaves)
but this may turn back on
itself, motion by motion,
a continuum, held in
1300timelessness
racing with time,,,,like
a napkin
burnt in the ashtray, red
beads, flameless, racing
1305around, splitting, dying,
turning fiber into ash:
held activity:
let’s have faith to go
ahead & see if anything
1310will happen:
maybe the tape will run out:
(looks a long way off:
Muse! Muse! fiery
woman, what
1315you got to tell me?
tell me:
I feel weak so
much tape remains:
my back’s getting sore:
1320I don’t sleep good
with this going on—slept
pretty good last night:
woke up once
into a country of dreams:
1325wanted to remember them:
but mostly cloudy was
too bright, even,
for them: it was
a country, I think: great
1330many people: & no news
of my book at the pstffce
again this morn: so I
don’t feel
strong about
1335things: I
need plenty of help:
the crusty world
takes no notice:
Muse, what must we
1340do to hit the top:
it’d better
be good: give a little,
will you, please?) (I’m
bushed:)
1345but you can do worse
than be a singer of verses:
(I’m the biggest
fool that ever was—
assertion’s not the
1350way to the top, you’re
a little round fool—
to follow you off into
these woods: who are you
anyhow? some kind of a
1355prickteaser?)
& so & so & so &
so & so
&
so & so & so & so so
lunch: hot dogs and baked
beans again: swell:
2/23: 11½¢ a can: cheap:
hotdogs run you around—
1365oh let’s see:
this morning’s coffee &
a chocolate fudge cookie:
maybe 30¢ altogether:
& all
1370that energy
turned into verse
will bring
you
about
1375four condemnations:
transformations!
metamorphoses!
mitochondria!
hell’s bells!
1380how my back hurts: even
by concentrating, I can’t
feel any presence
to my balls: missing:
wd it be masturbatory if
1385I if I
touched the area
briefly
just to make sure?
two cool tight weights!
1390thank you:
thank you very much:
if I had a flute: wdn’t
to see this long thin
1395poem
rise out of the waste-
basket:
the charmed erection,
stiffening, uncoiling?
1400anyways, that wastebasket
is coiled full: wonder if
I should stomp
in it?
in & out: weaving in &
1405out: a
tapestry, looking for all
the world
as if it were alive:
(break we that watch up)
1410just took a ride out
to the refuge: 100,000
birds: mallards, grebes,
teals, herons, Canada
geese &
1415two excellent flyers
from which there is
no refuge:
one, the short-necked,
long-tailed red hawk: he
1420browses the marshes &
for the little bird,
little bird
he is carefully looking:
& way overhead, turning,
1425the quiet, black
vulture:
two avenues flesh
can take: the tight red
& the loose dark meat:
1430red ambulance
& black hearse,
brazen reminders: and the
birds fly among, regarding
& regardless:
1435the trash collectors came
while I was gone &
took the
week’s waste away: we
are purged: even
1440a house has the incoming &
outgoing energies
& losses by which it
is maintained:
the garbage truck
1445says on the back
“We aim to serve,
not disturb”:
sophisticated
assonance
1450&&&&&&&
intellections are
scaffolds, trellises
we wish some vine of
feeling would take to
1455& possess
completely:
spider build
a circle
hung in
1460the squares of: bird
light on & sing from
the top of:
we build them even
for the windsong’s
1465tenuous life:
chance
a vine will ramble up it
busting into leaves & roses,
giving the robin a place
1470& making all the air
around
fragrant: we build these
structures because we
have hope, at least:
1475we’re
flat & lifeless,
but these erections,
they have hollow spaces,
room: we mean
1480to change—that is,
a sprouting is going
to go on: good, bad, &
indifferent are gonna
clutter up all around,
1485rise through the
lattices
of held space
and sing all
together, rose,
1490thorn,
smear of birdshit:
gonna rise
right up out of the
ground
1495where the dreams wait
and be red & gold
and laughing to beat the
band:
intellections are
1500bowls we hope to fill:
motions on the
prowl:
don’t
cut them
1505down or bust them up so
the water spills
& the vine hunts
aimlessly over the ground:
do
1510not be impatient with us:
we’re coming along &
meantime
entertain yourselves with
the dry beauty of our
1515joists & timbers, slats
& designs:
if nothing ever breaks
into leaf
still we
1520meant to encourage
the vine: we like
the call of the
robin & his early visit &
the color of his hen’s
1525eggs &
the way he stands on the
lawn, erect—
dressed for a wedding:
intellections have a use,
1530don’t think they don’t:
if the vine couldn’t
find a natural tree, what
would become of it? if
structure without life is
1535meaningless, so is
life without structure:
we’re going to make a
dense, tangled trellis so
lovely & complicated that
1540every kind of variety will
find a place in it or on
it: you just be
surprised: &
forgive us:
1545who mean song
direct & fierce:
(this day
ended
in spite of all
1550mostly sunny)
a dark night of stars
ensuing:
help me:
I have this &
1555no other comfort:
the song,
the slight, inner
unmistakable song you
give me
1560and nothing else! what
are you,
some kind of strumpet?
will you pull out on me?
look: I have faith: I
1565have faith: come or go:
I’ll always love you:
I have nothing else:
I have
nothing else besides you:
1570will you tear me
to pieces? I’ll go
on without you, until
you come again:
then
1575in the flare of song
we’ll make a common flame:
if it ain’t one fantasy
it’s anothern: where
are you, reality?
1580come out of there:
you drift around in the
background, drooping
like a suckegg dog:
probably I’d like you
1585all right
if I could get up close
enough to know you:
are you pieces of things
not quite fastened?
1590what’s your face like?
frowns &
bitters?
witchy?
scrawny?
1595warty?
withery?
maybe I’ve given you a
horrible mask
and behind that you’re
1600beautiful: or
is this another dream,
reality’s dream?
then, is reality to be
free of fantasies, those
1605I hang between us,
those I cast on you?
fact is, I’m having
this conversation with a
piece of paper!
1610and “you” are a figment
of imagination and “you”
have no mask
& if you did
no face
1615wd be behind it:
all this is just coming
out of my head:
the factory of fantasies:
some beautiful, some
1620terrifying,
some this, some that—but
all, paper & thin air!
a hundred dragons
and furies, satyrs &
1625centaurs—and one
Muse!
get food:
get water:
get sex:
1630bank account, nice car,
good address, retirement
plan, investment portfolio,
country-club membership,
monogrammed shirts, summer
1635home, cabin cruiser, big
living room (furnished
modern)
Money
Power
1640Food
Water
Sex—and who needs
paper conversations,
words revved up in a
1645fine motion and a headful
of dragons?
reality, I’ve got a feeling
you can be awful nice! but
if the only reality
1650I can get is a spare,
hard-bought one, why
turn on the fantasies and
let there be gorgeousness,
color & motion,
1655red & gold fabrics
and fine illusioning silks!
the man with bills to pay
dreams with a Muse!
reality is
1660knowing what you want
and how
to get it:
clouds came in soon after
dark last night, and today
1665broke fact & prophecy
as snow turning into rain:
the starlings sit
like rainsheds,
vertical in the gray
1670trees: two jays
search the ground:
as
it neared midnight last
night, I felt
1675pulled to go out
and hunt the roosts of
birds, flush them & hear
the shrieks of panic,
blind beating wings:
1680I wanted to know
what birds do at night,
how they
handle surprise, of
weasels, foxes, snakes:
1685I wanted to know
if they’re adequate
to the night:
I wanted to hear them
settle down
1690as I turned away, feel
the sweet emptiness
of their panic:
yesterday at the refuge, I
saw a fingerling,
1695crosswise
in a rising gull’s beak
shiver at both ends:
and last night, after
anger & a family tiff, I
1700suffered a loss & breakage
of spirit, blankness
as of plateaus: my “poem”
turned to incontinent
prose, unburned by spirit,
1705and this occupation
with a rolled
strip of paper
blackened to
obsession, senseless,
1710slightly mad: the Muse
cleared out, leaving an
empty house:
but she’s back with me
today, I think: I hear
1715a little voice
singing
under my brain, and I know
she’s there,
modest & faithful:
1720at the postoffice, no news:
nothing is out there
in the world: or it’s
all turned to concrete:
I’ve won no battles & lost
1725none:
am engaging no
realities:
cause enough to stop &
tear: cause enough
1730to sleep today, rest my
back & brain: except
that song itself
is enough, needs no
appeals beyond itself,
1735tightens fantasy
into matter
to outlast
this day’s real concerns:
soundless mist,
1740collecting, sounding
in the gutterspouts:
the saliva bed sucking in
my pipe, the moaning suck
of a dying bird:
1745the burry buzz of a
distant, peripheral plane:
the yellow, octagonal
pencil, rocking as I write:
the air & surface burn
1750of cars on Tilton Rd—heat
kicking on & off, baseboard
cracking, freezer
wheezing—silence,
broken by keys:
1755*
***
*****
***
*
1760clusters!
organizations!
*****
*****
*****
1765shapes!
)/(/(/)/)/(/(/)/)/(
designs!
close suspension of
cloud: not a break or
1770beam: the jay
jumps around in the naked
sumac thicket, squalls,
complains, stares at a
head of sumac-seed,
1775pecks it violently, as
with contempt: what a
jar, moist rattle: the
seed-head comes still
again, indifferent:
1780the crown-of-thorns has
had so little sun, the
flour-flowered spike,
opening, is
pale pink
1785that in an outside
summer sun would be
blood red:
not much green
on the walls of
1790the aquarium: the snails
are sluggish (!)—
the sky is like
neon lighting, a
ceiling of light
1795without origin, no
fierce disc
radiant, recognizable
source: equal diffusion:
and when
1800the Florentines painted
radiant populations in
the heavens, they were
not wrong:
each of
1805us,
says modern science, is
radiant,
tho
below the
1810visible spectrum:
paradise will
refine our radiance
or give us better sight:
we’re fallen
1815now:
we may be raised into
knowledge & light:
lower would be
longer & longer wavelengths
1820to dark’s undisturbed constant:
may we
not go there
but ever & ever up
singing into shining
1825light:
but not too high:
there’s a zone we
do best in: beyond
on either side, we
1830go by instruments
and artificial atmospheres:
a stark way:
we are, as bodies,
“localizations”
1835supported by barriers,
holding in &
shutting out:
systems of
exclusion, permitting
1840certain inlets, outlets:
we are
“held together”:
minerals—such as
calcium—
1845selected, refined
& deposited to high
purities
give support:
specialized tissues
1850bind us to the bones: an
outer cage
protects softer organs:
lovely
loose mesenteries—
1855permitting digestion’s
roil & change—
hold intestines in place:
so
the exchanges can go
1860on, the trades in
blood, lymph,
food, waste, water:
traffic through
barriers, each selective,
1865responsive:
if you have condemned the
body, you have
condemned a miraculous
residence—
1870temple
we should try to keep
the right spirit in:
the aggregates! the
widening accumulations,
1875providing the molecules,
proteins, triggers
we need:
imperfect, tho beautiful,
body: when it can
1880no longer defend, repair,
grow—when mineral
ash (that could not be
processed away) stiffens
the cell walls
1885so they lose flexibility
& effect—then the balance
turns
to invasion and
disintegration:
1890nothing permanent is old:
what is forever has no
youth or age: if you
could choose, how
wd you choose?
1895the biochemist, first
seeing how
two molecules select each
other & interlink
must think he
1900beholds
a face of God:
& from the center of all
these balances,
coordinations,
1905allowances,
integrations—waves
register & float away into
nothingness: there is
mind:
1910before you desecrate this
place, study its
architecture:
but the mind doesn’t
insist we know all
1915this: its commands
are few:
reproduce this temple
before it falls:
food, water:
1920barriers!
what is it, exactly, that
exists
when I see fish
travel in water & birds
1925in air?
resemblance
tying high above
difference:
wings, fins: air, water:
6:35 pm: we went
1935Christmas shopping at
Korvette’s and
Cherry Hill:
had dinner just now
over to Somers Point at
1940Mac’s: fried shrimp—
& Phyllis had
crab:
they have a good salad
dressing there: don’t
1945know what it is
(on the
order of French) but
they call it “Mac’s”:
bought Aristophanes’s
1950complete plays, very
saxy (I hope)—I’d read
Frogs & Clouds (no, it ws
Birds) before:
mostly, I walked
1955around carrying my
bk:
today
came in an
opposite way
1960of rain turning into snow:
when I woke up
the gutterspouts were
dripping musical flutes:
the tones dangled &
1965broke &
ran together with
inexhaustible variety of
mood & shape:
but now (10:50 a.m.) the
1970same colorless, closed sky
turns weight
into fluff, fast pellets
into slow blurs
that touch rainpools with
1975many-fingered hiss
& melt into silence: &
the grass seems
to rise up &
cushioning bring down
1980the flakes:
as if a god slept hereabouts
and meant to make a winter
of his sleep:
soft prisons are the
worst kind: bars
& stones are
1990honest, exact,
but this insinuation,
insisting it’s not itself,
this deepening
with universal touch: not
1995a path, road
left: only circles of
melt-stain under naked
trees (the flakes
caught in a
2000foliage to
branches) as if
the roots
sent up a warmth of
protest
2005or stirred radiating
summer dreams:
and (it’s not very cold)
the foliage melts & hangs
rainbeads
2010on twigs & branches—
points of clarity
concentrating light
into sources:
no birds this
2015morning: they
fear these white bodies
that fly into a still
white starvation:
a few seed, hung on
2020weeds & grasses, fall
& pepper the snow:
the reason I write so much
is
that I can’t do anything
2025else:
poem must be now
close to 40 feet long: I
can’t get it out
to write letters or
2030postcards or anything:
well
if
it
must
2035be
onward
to
the
end,
2040let’s
get
there
in
a
2045hurry: or
is that cheating?
every time the roll turns
it speeds up: as the
diameter decreases, the
2050revolutions per foot (rpf)
increase, so the poem
should rise to a pitch of
unwinding
at the end: a
2055spinning of diameter into
nothingness:
exclusions:
lepers on their islands,
drunks imprisoned in
2060drunkenness,
the disappearances (un-
noticed—the streets
seem always full,
lively & young enough)
2065into illness, stiff bones,
strokes, graves:
the silent child that stays
indoors,
unable to connect:
2070I feel the bitterness of
fate: I feel the
bitterness of fate:
what it means to
drive away from the
2075house: take a walk
down the street:
join the daylight
world’s clean going:
are we as innocent of our
2080joy
as they are of their
despair?
must do what we can,
accept the rest:
2085God, help us: help us:
we praise Your light:
give us light to do what
we can with darkness:
courage
2090to celebrate Your
light
even while the
bitterdrink
is being drunk:
2095give us the will
to love
those
who cannot love:
a touch of the dark
2100so we can know how one,
hungry for the light,
can
turn away:
we’re here together:
2105is it known,
has it been determined
what is right to do?
give us a song
sanctified
2110by Your divinity
to make us new
& certain of the right:
should I sacrifice
myself for
2115others? would
they, alarmed,
turn in confusion
against me?
should I care for
2120myself only,
bring to its fullest
enunciation
what fate says in me?
we’re here together,
2125though:
let us know when
to reach out &
when to withdraw:
& so & so
2130the snow has
turned to grit: I had
lunch after
“who cannot love”—
soup, sandwich, milk,
2135chocolate fudge cookie, &
coffee (my wife’s home
today)—most
of the week she
works,
2140while I sit
home in
idleness:
I’m waiting to hear if
Cornell will give me
2145a job: I need
to work &
maybe I write
too much:
2155prisons!
constellations!
shapes that possess
&
entangle the mind!
2160run yourself through
Beethoven’s
Sonata Pathétique &
exist like a bush!
willing entrapment
2165of cell walls &
diamonds, a giving
of the self
over
into shape, structure
2170played upon
by motion & flesh!
they say there are
water molecules in the
void—
2175then it’s not empty!—
motions racing
through, particles &
drifts, a structure
woven
2180beyond the
diaphanous:
but here
around the roots of trees,
a black engendering:
2185prisons,
hold fast!
safe in these cages, I
sing joys
that never were
2190in any thorough jungle:
but betimes & at times
let me out of here:
I will penetrate into the
void
2195& bring back
nothingness
to surround all these
shapes with!
closing in
2200without closing:
running through
without filling:
opening out
with walls:
2205run my poem through
your life & it will
exist in you
like a protein
molecule:
2210clothes to try on, wear,
abandon or keep:
put away in the closet,
a memory ectoplasmic
with gone joys:
2215what am I doing?
what are my innermost
feelings?
do I know what I’m doing
or am I waiting
2220for it to
be done?
my innermost feeling is
a silky pouring of
semen, a rich
2225disturbance
in the groin,
broken loose, flowing free:
I remember a stallion
had been stalled for wks:
2230in the lot surrounding
him were mules & mares:
someone let down the
gate &
he hit the nearest
2235bony old mule and gave
her a rapt opening,
invasion & filling,
& in a slick moment he
was shot: as if shot,
2240dropped to the ground
and the loose wobbling
weight
poured & poured on the
ground
2245& he came up & took her
again: she braced
herself and groaned:
the rich pouring
of this verbal
2250itch:
I fall back:
shot:
winded:
God, relieved, sweet
2255floating relief:
imprisoned in marvelous
desire
and set free! beautiful
bth gng in & cmng out:
2260the men, embarrassed,
joked & hid
their hard-ons against
the fence: they
knew the stallion
2265stalled in the prison of
his honest lust: you,
find the exit,
the wooly
entry
2270and go free & take an
honest part
in the community: many
things to be
accounted for,
2275to take into account:
oh this poem is long:
the tape’s still thick
& slow:
Muse, come & take my
2280riding, rouse my riding:
we got a long long way
to go: present
the cage men will
dwell in, design the
2285gleaming city:
cars hiss on the highway:
typewriter clicks:
the thermostat snaps:
(sounds like a motorcycle
2290out there)
the day’s unchanged—gray
undivided clouds:
but the
snow’s stopped:
2295we went out after “& we
are untroubled” up there:
I unpacked my mother-in-law’s
new dishes
& Phyllis helped wash them:
forbidden suffering:
they turn inward & inward
calls hopelessly
to inward: song, poor
if you can)
an object,
exactly perceived
& described is
2310when entered in the
tapestry
somewhat compromised:
part strength flows
from it
2315to its
compositional environment:
no tapestry
without
this clustering,
2320giving up of strength:
no tapestry then! if it
impose what may
enter! forget it!
but no exact
2325thing, either,
unless it
calls & calls away to
kindred things:
the job is
2330honest,
full as a suspected
reality
of tensions: to keep
the object clear as
2335it can be (& itself),
the
tapestry “one” as it can
be,
without tyranny:
2340partial solutions: men
feared
at the end of the 19th
century
that they were going to
2345solve the universe: no
more need of physicists!
just as the
whole fell
together it
2350fell apart:
innocent again,
the physicists are
re-employed:
(I’m glad somebody’s
2355working:
wish I were making some
money myself)
@
back off there, populace!
2360the poet will have a little
room!
disburden the area: hey,
you: git off da stage!
the poet will take
2365a little distance on:
what?
can you think these
“private” things are
private?
2370they were got from
jokes & dirty books:
the poet, lawsee, but
sings to the general
& claims
2375but the murmur in the words:
have at you, sir!
the poor employee of the
ruling queen, the listener
to lies that
2380they may become truth:
the raiser of halcyons
into storm: the public
voice
that has no pleading of
2385its own: but, indeed,
bends to the great,
will take coins
to th’amusement:
that will, cold as a
2390glass, give
the hag the hag,
the beauty beauty, the
evildoer his face:
to the courts with your
2395disgraceful shows!
here
the poet lolls, suckled
up in the rapture of his
sacred saying:
2400a nerveless creature
because all nerves:
odd-one-out
because he stands aside to
see: fool that makes
2405foolishness a law:
will you be ruled,
sir, metered out?
the poet implores you to
get the hell off his back:
2410he will have
room
and a universe
to cry all day
the trampling of a weed:
2415go you the hell all on
back home: or stand off:
the music descends: look
up: there, now: there:
thank you, gentlemen:
2420and goodnight: it’s past
twelve and a
cold, freezing, windy
night:
%
2425my poem went for a ride
today: I
backgutted it all
the way out
of the typewriter,
2430rewinding the roll:
stuck it in a paper
bag, then in the
glove compartment:
we all went to York, Pa.
2435to visit relatives:
I was reluctant to give
the day to myself & not
to the poem: but
the thing I couldn’t
2440do was separate us:
what if the house caught
fire while I was gone?
unh, unh: took it with me:
but mightn’t you have had
2445a car accident & ruined it?
mebbe but bebbe I’d
have ruined myself, too,
past caring about
poems,
2450mebbe:
took it with me: & have
returned (10 pm) &
reinserted & rewound:
I’m beat: drove
2455there & back & drove
a lot while there,
looking the city over,
the place my nephew
goes to school & where his
2460daddy works & shopping
centers, bowling alleys
& the ritzy section,
mansions way up
on the highest ridge—
2465overlooking:
the Top:
but it’s late:
excuse me, I’m tired: &
the cold drops—
2470they say to 5 or 10 above
tonight:
first I heard
on the radio this morning
it was
247519 degrees:
but it’s bright sunny
and
believe it or not
there’re a couple of
2480flies
out on the porch, still
okay, doing fine
on “areas of warmth”:
but doing I don’t
2485know what at night:
a one-legged starling
was hopping around on the
porch when I just drove
up: and a catbird was
2490sitting
in the green-withered
rhododendron bush,
warming:
the joy of the crest,
2495riding & writing
in the going making
single stream: but I
can’t always live
there:
2500obstructions:
frustrations:
frazzling reality,
many-fingered &
dividing: what
2505self-acceptance, strength
of self, is
needed to meet it:
the gain’s in doing
little things: but
2510wherever you turn, someone
beat you there, is
in your way
obstructing you: some
idiot pulls out
2515in front of you,
without notice or
hesitation: someone pops
on his brakes: another
drags along:
2520somebody behind you blasts
his horn:
here, the obstructions
continue: the flow
lost, the crest gone: the
2525self not
pulling all together:
if things were easy
they’d be valueless:
wd they?
2530this is easiest when it
rides highest
& when it’s difficult
nothing can be done:
this fantasy: with
2535faith, unity, I
may turn it into a
pleasing reality:
wdn’t that be a blast:
wdn’t that break up
2540pragmatism:
(there you go
picturing yrself
worldwide again: easy,
boy: you
2545dooky like
everybody else)
it’s a loss of love:
I love all those
people (provided
2550they get out of my way)
hostility, thrust, that
drives one to this
thrashing of keys:
violence of vowels:
2555prisons of hostility,
gleaming as Manhattan
plate-glass towers:
solitude—so as not to
strike!
2560death’s
the maximum-security
prison: take a lot of
practice
to spring
2565that one: too secure:
turn our faces into
cold wind &
risk’s hard fact:
I feel like running:
2570& wd:
except there’s no
place to
run to: prisons to let
ourselves into
2575and out of:
what kind of mess
am I in today?
Muse, if you
want anything out
2580of me, you’ll have
to do a little
fixing-up:
this tape is too damn long:
I’ll tell you that:
2585terrible task:
then you go off & whore
around:
10 pm: we’ve just
finished addressing the
2590Xmas cards (policy:
send one to people
who sent one last year—
with some eliminations
(somebody has to make the
2595first move:) some additions:)
stars, angels, snow,
donkeys, trees, bells, arches,
windows, children: not
a bad context, though
2600reality
has a
way
of
wandering around the edges
2605of
it: I’d take a liking to
it if it wasn’t for
still having the stamps
to lick:
2610next yr I intend to send
a card to everybody
I know (I think)—
that’s not a bad context &
it says a lot about peace:
2615just went to Tony’s to
get a pack of cigs: it’s
colder than you
can imagine: must be
around 8: yipe!
struggling
with his
immortal
rock: some say this
2625is all man’s work,
crumbling castles, decay-
ing systems—absurdity:
but Sisyphus
knew each upward strain
2630& groan
soaked into the hard
potential of the stone,
that the sweat burned in
deep:
2635mountaintop, he released
weeks of energy
and saw—each time as
miracle—the
gravity-bound, difficult
2640rock
leap & lollop
like a deer,
feather-light, bird
awing: & he let out a
2645cry of joy that
rang through the
valley
mixing with stone-thunder:
the people—who’d
2650forgotten Sisyphus & his
breadless labor—screaming
jumped out of bed
& ran
out into the night:
2655Sisyphus took
light, jerky
steps downward
and resolving came,
luminous with explanation,
2660among the people:
they cheered &
thanked the gods
for the return of reason
& Sisyphus, the
2665groans all vented from
his rock
turned to the empty, easy
thing & rolled it like
a playball over the even
2670ground
up to the bottom of the
rise:
the people, smiling, went
to bed & through
2675the black morning hours
the rock,
breaking branches, began
to take on
again its difficult majesty:
2680¢¢
got
to leave Sissy Fuss
& go
pick out the Christmas
2685tree:
keep it cold in
garage: so it don’t
turn stiff & sheddy:
cut’em around October:
2690why
they cut’em so soon?
transportation:
it’s merchandising:
dealerships to work out:
2695farmers to contact: red
tape: whatd’ya
think?
they can just appear up
down here
2700fresh
two days before Christmas?
sheez!
some kindova nut:
grows on a tree,
2705a tree is part of
Nature,
Nature is beautiful &
thank you for the
compliment:
2710why don’t we go cut
our own?
cut our own!
where?
but we don’t own that land:
2715whatd’ya mean they don’t
care?
I know they’re beautiful:
grow right up in the
fallow land,
2720taper up nice, standing
out half-deep in
Indian grass, right
out in the middle of
the field:
2725when I was a boy:
or a bit more:
used to go get the
Christmas tree: lived
way out in the country
2730down in Carolina
in a time
& place
that seem so long ago,
everything different
2735now & sort of loused up:
an only boy & I would get
the axe &
follow the paths over the
fields & back of the
2740fields come into
hill-woods (hickory,
lush-leaved tree,
covering the ground each
year with
2745thick-shelled nuts)
& then into the swamp woods:
for
in the South
cedar grows deep
2750in the damp swampwoods
and then it’s sparse, so
sparse, where I come from:
& walk & walk, roaming and
nearly lost:
2755there’s one! already
topped: and found
another, shaggy, topped
years ago: & finally
finally finding one
2760bushy, full, &
pointed:
climbing and with that
awkward, ungrounded swing,
hacking away at the
2765trunk:
dragging it home, the limbs
obliging, flowing with
the motion:
we had no electricity but
2770we had pinecones &
colored paper &
some tinsel: it
was beautiful enough:
it was very lovely:
2775& it’s lost:
though there’s no
returning (and
shd be little desire
to return) still we shd
2780keep the threads looped
tightly with past years,
the fabric
taut
& continuous, past growing
2785into present so present
can point to future:
where am I now?
in a house with
no acres around it—don’t
2790even own an axe—
plenty of electricity but
no hickory nuts,
no rummaging the swamp
for the scented green,
2795the green-green, moist,
growing right on the tree:
now, a tree from
somewhere—maybe Vermont—
got by handing over
2800two or three green
pcs of paper:
$$$$$$$$$$$$$
do you hear me, Sisyphus,
durn you? do you hear me
2805groan:
like:
wow:
2:29 pm: (still sunny)
I better get out of
2810here & go
get that tree:
the good ones are
gonna be gone:
&
2815Snow
The little tree
on the hill
could surely be
bright & still
2820except the wind
round the hill
has a mind
that isn’t still
&
2825I decided not to get the
tree:
instead, I lay down on the
couch
& nearly fell asleep
2830& then sat up
& then
the little tree
came to me:
4:30 pm: the sun’s sunk:
2835we approach the shallows
of the year: short
days with the sun
gone south:
the light will
2840lengthen, break through
plate-glass ice,
stir roots & bees:
in a maze prison, you’re
free: every wall
2845opens:
you move around with
trial:
you know there’s a way
out:
2850the mind turns & fails:
and turns & fails: loss
of bearings & origins:
the maze shrinks into the
head, paralyzing: unwind
2855it, un-
wind it!
speaking of memries,
I member
this little spring
2860that came mouthing out
of sand at the foot
of the pasture:
I dammed up a good-sized
pond around it,
2865black mud walls
maybe 6" high:
held the flow,
gave it structure:
still the little mouth
2870kept talking
in the clear pond: clear!
you could read the grain
in the bottom mud,
kind of fluffy:
2875frogs laid eggs in it:
messy eggs
with little black eyes:
beautiful & sticky:
they say the night will be
2880cold
with increasing cloudiness:
probably: snow tomorrow:
flurries:
today
2885broke as if under water:
horizons & dome diffused
with completely
increased cloudiness:
a set of four thumb-size
2890birds
flicker in the sumac
grove:
the sun’s a silver bead
behind the clouds:
2895flurries expected:
Christmas trees come
stout, stubby, tall, lean,
bunchy, lopsided, scrawny—
besides the kinds—cedar,
2900pine, fir:
my wife & I diverge
at scrawny-bunchy: she
likes bunchy ones (even a
little stubby): I like
2905scrawny, open trees:
like to get inside the
tree
and hang it full of
ornaments:
2910I
don’t
like
those bunchy ones that
thrust you out, accept only
2915peripheral trim:
is, the devil with it:
husband & wife hold
each other off
2920by digging
chasms of difference:
then they have a hell of a
time bridging them: it’s
important that a male be
2925different from a female—
the greater the difference
the higher the charge—
but if the
difference gets too wide,
2930the two halves
drift off into alienations:
ever noticed how
dark it is
inside those bunchy trees?
2935they hover-in the
dark, withholding, secret,
mysterious:
what? have a system of
darkness
2940standing in the living
room, recalcitrant,
impenetrable? the devil
take it!
–or–
2945I cd think of it as
protected darkness,
boundaried by
ornament & light:
maybe that’s a deeper
2950response
than my fully exhausted
open tree:
everybody to his own taste,
said the old man as
2955he kissed the cow: (and
every little bit helps,
said the old lady as
she peed in the ocean)
10:29 a.m: the bead’s gone:
296011:40 a.m: fine, hurrying snow:
12:48 pm: everything white:
3:20 pm: still snowing: I
went to the
cleaner’s, egg-lady’s,
2965& mailbox & just got in:
trucks are whirling red
gravel over the roads:
the snow is holding,
packing down: tires aren’t
2970breaking through:
the children, let out of
school, run testing
mounds that look all
snow but are only surfaced,
2975scraping up handfuls—
not yet enough
snow for
huge
crunchy handfuls—
2980muffled, the highway’s
stopped burning:
9:41 pm: we’ve just come
in from being out:
it’s a wicked white
2985icy night:
cars slipping, wheels
spinning: bushes
sparkle in the headlights:
imagine being out
2990for a night
restless & wakeful with
cold, some child
coughing—or crying
with fever:
2995who are we
on this globe?
how & at what cost
have we survived?
deer & birds:
3000are they cold?
maybe one way of
coming home is
into silence,
restfulness from words,
3005freedom from the mill
that grinds
reality into sound:
why do I need to throw
this structure
3010against the flow
which I cannot stop?
is there something
unyielding in me that
can’t accept
3015the passing away of days
and birds
flowers & leaves?
it’s always never return
for them:
3020that way, day by day, for
me & you:
acquiescence, acceptance:
the silent passage into
the stream, going along,
3025not holding back:
I try to transfigure these
days
so you’ll want to keep
them:
3030come back to them: from
where?
from the running honey
of reality & life?
come back:
3035I hold these days aloft,
empty boxes
you can exist in: but
when you live in them
you hurry out of your own
3040life:
if my meaning is
to befriend you,
must I turn you
away?
3045I stop to fasten, and
currents
swirl around, over
me, wearing my
structures away, teaching
3050me not to grasp, not to
try to keep:
why does a man sit alone
and question
the answerless air where
3055no blood stirs
and no lips move?
this love, fashioned
into acts,
might bring a lonely
3060person
purpose enough:
what’s the nature
of this carrying-on?
generations to come: are
3065they more precious,
estimable, than these
that are?
can a lip quiver with
more need
3070then than now?
I have a notion to be
wordless, but
active with immediate
deed, open
3075with the glance of my
need, direct,
humble in my going,
glad
as the thoughtless are:
3080are we creators in fact
or collectors of relics:
do we make grow
or cast into stone?
this ole world could be
3085one
if it wusn’t
for hate
bustin it apart,
keeps
3090crackin it
into little pieces:
love, I mean, could
rise up there love
and make all the
3095children dance
shaking breasts & hips,
pelvis
shooting in & out
and all kine of sanging
3100going on:
summer coming back just
like it hadn’t been
nowhere:
and the bees
3105bumbling
in the hollyhocks:
calves kicking up their
heels &
the spring roosters
3110crashing into crows:
and what would we do with
our hate?
turning hate outward, we
keep dense & pure
3120our inward love:
can we incorporate our
enemies?
can we maintain a high
degree of difference
3125within unity’s cluster?
give room, latitude, widen
the band
of acceptance: we live
in strictures of hate
3130& suspicion, intolerance
& doubt:
absorb the margins:
enlarge the range:
give life room:
3135today is cold: hit
ten last night:
and it not winter
yet:
the sun comes high
3140into the room: strikes
the inside wall
three feet up from the
floor:
we’re going to Philly tdy:
3145little more shopping:
7:19 pm: oh it was a cold
windy day, jaw-tight,
ear-numb, nose-runny, cold
windy day: the sun
3150seemed to do no good
(pigeons hovered
in the morning sun
along the steel trusses
of overpasses) and the
3155wind burst
from intersections down
the dark street-canyons:
concrete, stone, steel,
hard & cold:
3160having shopped for hrs,
I sat a
few minutes
in the waiting room (on
the balcony) at
3165Wanamaker’s:
(or do they call that
the gallery?):
mostly old folks:
some dozed: the eyes of
3170some begged
out of strictures:
the circles of reach:
in the womb, confinement:
then, opening, the
3175bassinet: the cradle,
playpen, the house, to
school, enlarging always
the widening circle: then
away to college
3180or military service, the
circle so large
now as to be
congruent with earth—
the total openness:
3185then the gradual
shrinking,
stiffening, the star-
brittle bones,
eyes fading,
3190arm-reach,
and the last
confinement:
my, my: & nothing to be
done:
3195nothing to be done!
is any time left?
carpe diem, snatch, grab,
hasten, do, jump, go:
get the rose, da
3200rose, da rosa baby: see
that girl? when
she turns her head
& stands lost, her eyes
blank with something forgot,
3205universes
crack up into little
pieces & blow away
and something quite
silvery
3210starts singing—right
out in public
and whoever said men can’t
be blossoms because
looking at her,
3215near her,
they
bloom warm,
they just rise up,
something liberally
3220extending itself,
expanding
and they turn to hot jelly
& freezing little bits
of ice
3225and say “God” under their
breaths
and under the burden of
something too much
to have or lose:
3230it’s go: go & green:
the day we went to York
I saw
a black&white cow
standing close to
3235the sunny side of a barn:
animals know a good many
things: they’d
take over if
they had hands:
3240the jay was out
before sunrise
wheeling & dealing
& around noon
a covey of quail
3245enjoyed (apparently)
the sunlit margin
between the back lawn
and the sumac grove:
now, at 3:58 pm the
3250sun is yellow,
coming into its
horizontal: about
a half hour to go:
they used to say
3255“half hour sun”:
I used to tell
sun-time, right
out of the burning clock:
have a gold watch, now,
3260that takes its heat
from me: times change:
our tree, which I just
put up, was
“Grown in Canada”
3265&
comes via
Puyallup, Washington:
the tag says:
we lost our mule Kate in
3270the fall
to a chattel mortgage:
men backed the truck
up into a shallow
ditch, dropped the ramp,
3275& with twitch & whip
loaded her on:
it seemed, rather than
justice,
violation, breakage:
3280tearing into
a mule’s knowledge: &
I stood by, a boy,
violated & hard:
Kate was small, willing
3285at a touch of straw
to run a wagon harder than
you meant:
she lunged in the
high-boarded truck:
3290her ears flicked, her
eyes set back, blank &
reasonless: she
drowned from herself & us
when the motor, roaring
3295over all meaning,
tore into gear:
farm with no mule:
the corn she made
to lie all winter
3300in a barn’s weevil-dust
& rat droppings:
in the spring, a tragic
mule, bony,
majestical
3305came to us:
never forget first time I
saw her, coming down the
Chadbourn road: my
father went to town
3310in the morning:
late that afternoon,
sitting on the washbench,
waiting, I saw him
coming, new wagon &
3315new mule:
she seemed hardly to be
walking,
but the legs went out &
out in a reach
3320that covered ground:
I called her Silver—O
loved beast,
dead & gone,
not to be lost from mind
3325& song—
because
though huge & tired, she
wd rise to her hindlegs
at a touch of heels to
3330her sides
and run stiff & fast: like
the Lone Ranger’s horse:
& Silver was black:
she possessed the
3335mark of play,
a liveliness silly,
inappropriate & great:
10:17 pm:
we went to church at 4
3340this afternoon:
I held a lighted candle
in my hand—as all the
others did—and helped
sing “Silent Night”: the
3345church lights were doused:
the preacher lit his
candle & from his the
deacons lit theirs &
then the deacons went down
3350the aisles & gave light to
each row
& the light poured
down the rows &
the singing started:
3355though the forces
have different names
in different places &
times, they are
real forces which we
3360don’t understand:
I can either believe
in them or doubt them &
I believe:
I believe that man is
3365small
& of short duration in the
great, incomprehensible,
& eternal: I believe
it’s necessary to do
3370good
as we can best define it:
I believe we must
discover & accept the
terms
3375that best testify:
I’m on the side of
whatever the reasons are
we are here:
we do the best we can
3380& it’s not enough:
I was thinking when I woke
up how much more I wanted
ice cream than breakfast:
the wake-up radio was
3385saying
the most dread terror is
fire at sea
(ship burning in the
Atlantic with 800 aboard)
3390and that forecast for
today was snow, turning
along the coast into
sleet & rain:
release us from mental
3395prisons into the actual
fact, the mere
occurrence—the touched,
tasted, heard, seen:
in the simple event is
3400the scope of life:
let’s not make up
categories to toss ourselves
around with:
look: it’s snowing:
3405without theory
& beyond help:
I accept:
I can react with
restlessness & quiet
3410terror, or with
fascination &
delight: I choose the
side of possibility:
the snow’s angling
3415into the sumac thicket:
I see black &
white, every twig
highlighted: if I were
looking with the snow,
3420I’d see
all white:
4:48 pm: the vowels are
lifting around here: breve
a is becoming breve i:
3425“I c’int stind it.”