At the Fountain

Camille Guthrie

—after The Unicorn Tapestries

I.

When I first saw you

Pearled primed beading phantom

bearded           gilt       iridescent

Creature kneels to drink

Susceptible falling early spring

in the city, framed in stone

you force my proclivities,

I set my heart on that springhead.

I pass you a frond of my very

wish my genius for coming apart at the seams—

changes of mood, statements of grief,

and divergence of character,

Wideranging, much diffused, in late

meadowy sprays of ardor out of breath

if you talk to me, I change color.

Give oneself to

Clarity

look me full in the

Face     blue-green

Iridesce

this way

your sound-and-light show

Overlooking my exaggerations, the causes

which led him to becoming erect and

consequent changes of structure:

increased size, absence of a tail, defenseless condition

outside the library arboresque, scrubby with reader’s fatigue—

Our various small points of resemblance

are luminous, the term used in a wide sense.

Overcurious, I occupy my plans with the most

important of all relations, the “lineaments of desire”

that’s Blake,

You took no notice.

Action of hand gestures

Action of bird landing

Action of light on a hat.

II.

Silvered   sloped   livid

Stippled beast, touches water

No protection

from the number of individuals in the counterfeit city,

its gewgaws and things to do, or any marplot

whose ruinous intent ranges up the avenues to the park,

fearlessness.

The girl descends

into the subway having a fit so pregnable

those who wait are open-mouthed

wincing from the tyranny of the beautiful

and irreplaceable—touch me not.

She leapt

yellow gold red blue squares.

Action of wristlet waved in hydrangea air

points down carelessly Elizabeth Street “it’s too late.”

Row of water bottles argues extravagance.

Seemingly random behavior

Whoso list to hunt

Shatterproof paper landscape

Road test rapture

How do you like me now?

The amplification of small errors

pinches the sore spot Clarity, phantom limb pain,

cases of difficulty and crumbly hopes

despite twenty-twenty.

I lay down in your night soil, your leaf litter, bone meal

your superphosphates, it was your bright idea.

My polka dot insights on the absence or rarity

of realism get me nowhere, and show signs of distraction.

I had some difficulty distinguishing between varieties

of artificial sleeping lawns.

The why stuck like sequins about your face—

Just forget it.

The lower stages of your unconcern

are stunning, detachment rips the only array I had

cast in a frenzied outburst of

my position in the animal series:

unmanned, unslaked, collapsible.

Why doe I love?

So mine eye is enthralled to thy shape.

III.

On the imperfection of the peony record.

On the lapse of time as estimated by primal scenes.

On the endeavors of our unreasonable beauty collections.

On the unknown worlds of eyelash varieties.

On the flammable appearance of promises.

On their perfect number.

IV.

The stag threatened us with its horns; the weasel ran away with our lunch; the wolf tore a tent to pieces, then its owner; ducks snapped at our fingers; the woodcock defended its nest; the nightingale crashed into the car window; the goldfinches made a mess of the finial; the lions caught a rabbit and fought over the remains; and the hounds chased everything in sight.

V.

Dabbed   distilled   arriving

glossed   current   animal, waits

The bearing of these three great facts—

You suffer from overproduction.

You’re handmade.

A.E. could mean many things,

which one’s to be master is all.

(Amelia Earhart scraped the sky in a silver Electra changing her flight from west to east.)

Raptly, assemble piecework

Rapid increase!

Spikelet of laziness and love

to have the leafy facts of your unknown worlds

which is what colors mean, and natural light.

Ardently sweetheart

align our miscellaneous points of correspondence:

the blue striped shirt, unlikely details, bone horns,

and crush the ungetatable,

any reason for your endeavors seems true.

He varies most

Saturday afternoons ferns in the hair

pulling off your Ovid T-shirt

wet moss Sa    tah       lite of   love

falling backward into the bushes.

VI.

Early Spring stepped across the stream in rubber boots.

I rolled the tapestry up and tucked it under my head.

Ground-cherry landscape, emphasis Narcissus

perceptions wave in and out, headlong date palms,

A.E. tied with a bow.

The fierceness of the specific, slow motion capture

drawn to their differences and origins,

clear you have the cruelty to be interesting.

The burden: wild roses behind you

display ciphers in silver yarns.

Hectic   beauty   prism   saturation

stream horizon light streak

particulars use your feathers

veritable imperial collector

orange curl luster

if they were seemly to be seen.

See here my heart,

fringed facts,

the sooty nose, the surface

so round, so rare, a radiant thing

whitewashed with expectation

so I ate my words.

Clatter of details asks all attention

complex relations of plants and animals—

Risked enthusiasm, geometrical ratios of increase

in bold irreality. It’s easy to look at

dark green edged with yellow, articulated leaves

fragrant lit oval, the whole’s the hard part.

A bark, night-silvered

I fall victim to the symmetry of scenes

look for you in the break in the trees.