CANTO II

The day was dying,

        the rabbits, unable to move,

        sat confused in the fading light,

And I too found myself stuck to the spot

              as I do

                               now,

At the thought of that terrible journey

Which outdoes memory.

Now, Oulipo, come to my aid,

And muses, if you are there, now

Is the moment to show yourselves,

As I inscribe what I saw.

‘Poet,’ I said, ‘who come to guide me,

Do you think I’m cut out for this?

In Memorial Day you said you

       “heard the dead, the city dead

The devils that surround us,”

And in life you always had one foot

In the underworld – and I don’t just mean

You were friends with Lou Reed

                                      and Drella.

Like Virgil, who wrote of Sylvius’

      father, who, while subject to corruption,

      journeyed to the immortal world,

You have that special power

             to penetrate the veil of sense;

     but I’m no Aeneas.

Nor am I a Heaney or a Walcott,

Come to mention it,

By what right should I go?

Perhaps you’ve got the wrong man?

And then, if I say I’m up for it,

I fear I might make a fool of myself.

You see what I’m driving at –

Perhaps you can understand my

                                   dilemma.’

‘I get your drift,’ said Berrigan, ‘you’re

Getting what in the trade we call cold feet.

You’ve got that

                           fear that all too often

Turns a man away from a noble enterprise,

As a frightened beast that runs from its own shadow.

Now listen up. I’ll tell you why I came

And why I first took pity on your

                                 plight.

I was hanging out among those souls in Limbo

When a Lady came up to me

And dragged me out of my lethargy.

She was so fair and blessed

That I was won over at once.

Her eyes shone with a light brighter than any

Eye-liner, and she began in soft and gentle

Yet commanding words to address me,

With the voice of an angel:

“Oh noble spirit, courteous Rhode Islander,

You who taught in the Poetry Project

At St Mark’s, and indeed taught here too,

Whose fame still shines resplendent in the world

And will continue to shine as long as Time lasts,

I have a friend and colleague, so impeded

In his way across the Essex wastes

                     that he has turned back for

                                        sheer terror,

And I fear already

From what I have heard in London,

That I have come too late for his relief.

Now go, and with your ready turn of phrase,

And all the art at your disposal,

Help him, so that I may have solace.

I who urge you to go am Marina;

I come from a place I must quickly return to,

For I need to give a talk at the

British Library, this same afternoon,

Where there is a symposium on the sonnet,

With Jeff Hilson and Paul Muldoon –

When I return there, often will I sing your praise.”

She was silent then, so I began:

“Oh Lady of Grace, aren’t you that

Lady writer on the TV

Talking about the Virgin Mary

Celebrated in that Dire Straits song?

It’s good to meet you ma’am, and let me

Tell you now, you can rely on me to

Get the job done. It’ll be a pleasure,

And a good excuse to get out of this place,

Which gets real dull at times.

But tell me, what madness

Brought you to this point of spacelessness,

Stuck out here in the marshlands of Essex,

And away from your spacious home in town?”

“That song,” she replied, “is not really about me –

It’s a chanson d’amour about a beloved

Of Mark Knopfler’s, of whom I briefly remind him.

As for your other question, why I fear not

To come within this place,

I can answer with ease:

A woman only stands in fear of those things

That have the power to do us harm,

Of nothing else, for nothing else is fearful.

I first heard tell of my friend’s predicament

On a lunch date with Dawn and Michèle,

And they urged me to make this untimely visit;

There never was an entrepreneur in all of Texas

More anxious to pursue his selfish ends

Than I was, having heard this,

To rush down here and do what I could,

Confiding in thy noble speech, which honours thee,

And they who have heard it!”

After telling me all this, she turned away

Her bright eyes, weeping, then made her way

To the car park.

To cut a long story short, that’s why I

Came to get you, just in time to stop that

Giant rat getting its teeth into you.

So what’s your problem?

Why chicken out now, with dames like these

To look out for you?

Pull yourself together, there’s not a moment

To lose.’

              As daffodils, bent down and cowed

By the chill night air, lift themselves up

And open

                 when the sun whitens them,

So my courage began to come back,

And I stood up,

                        as one who is ready to go.

‘I was a fool to doubt you,’ I said,

‘Let’s get moving.’

These are the words I spoke, and as Berrigan turned,

I entered on the savage path.