andmadeithomelierthanitwas.
“Whydidyoubringmeheretoseeit?
Atempleofcratesincrampedandcratedscenery,
whatcanitprove?
Iamtiredofbreathingthiserodedair,
thisdrynessinwhichthemonumentiscracking.”
Itisanartifact
ofwood.Woodholdstogetherbetter
thanseaorcloudorsandcouldbyitself,
muchbetterthanrealseaorsandorcloud.
Itchosethatwaytogrowandnottomove.
Themonument’sanobject,yetthosedecorations,
carelesslynailed,lookinglikenothingatall,
giveitawayashavinglife,andwishing;
wantingtobeamonument,tocherishsomething.
Thecrudestscroll-worksays“commemorate,”
whileonceeachdaythelightgoesaroundit
likeaprowlinganimal,
ortherainfallsonit,orthewindblowsintoit.
Itmaybesolid,maybehollow.
Thebonesoftheartist-princemaybeinside
orfarawayonevendriersoil.
Butroughlybutadequatelyitcanshelter
whatiswithin(whichafterall
cannothavebeenintendedtobeseen).
Itisthebeginningofapainting,
apieceofsculpture,orpoem,ormonument,
andallofwood.Watchitclosely.
Paris,7A.M.
Imakeatriptoeachclockintheapartment:
somehandspointhistrionicallyoneway
andsomepointothers,fromtheignorantfaces.
TimeisanEtoile;thehoursdiverge
somuchthatdaysarejourneysroundthesuburbs,
circlessurroundingstars,overlappingcircles.
Theshort,half-tonescaleofwinterweathers
isaspreadpigeon’swing.
Winterlivesunderapigeon’swing,adeadwingwithdampfeathers.
Lookdownintothecourtyard.Allthehouses
arebuiltthatway,withornamentalurns
setonthemansardroof-topswherethepigeons
taketheirwalks.Itislikeintrospection
tostareinside,orretrospection,
astarinsidearectangle,arecollection:
thishollowsquarecouldeasilyhavebeenthere.
—Thechildishsnow-forts,builtinflashierwinters,
couldhavereachedtheseproportionsandbeenhouses;
themightysnow-forts,four,five,storieshigh,
withstandingspringassand-fortsdothetide,
theirwalls,theirshape,couldnotdissolveanddie,
onlybeoverlappinginastrongchain,turnedtostone,
andgrayedandyellowednowlikethese.
Whereistheammunition,thepiled-upballs
withthestar-splinteredheartsofice?
Thisskyisnocarrier-warrior-pigeon
escapingendlessintersectingcircles.
Itisadeadone,ortheskyfromwhichadeadonefell.
Theurnshavecaughthisashesorhisfeathers.
Whendidthestardissolve,orwasitcaptured
bythesequenceofsquaresandsquaresandcircles,circles?
Cantheclockssay;isittherebelow,
abouttotumbleinsnow?
Quaid’Orléans
forMargaretMiller
Eachbargeontherivereasilytows
amightywake,
agiantoak-leafofgraylights
ondullergray;
andbehinditrealleavesarefloatingby,
downtothesea.
Mercury-veinsonthegiantleaves,
theripples,make
forthesidesofthequai,toextinguishthemselves
againstthewalls
assoftlyasfalling-starscometotheirends
atapointinthesky.
Andthrongsofsmallleaves,realleaves,trailingthem,
godriftingby
todisappearasmodestly,downthesea’s
dissolvinghalls.
Westandasstillasstonestowatch
theleavesandripples
whilelightandnervouswaterhold
theirinterview.
“Ifwhatweseecouldforgetushalfaseasily,”
Iwanttotellyou,
“asitdoesitself—butforlifewe’llnotberid
oftheleaves’fossils.”
SleepingontheCeiling
Itissopeacefulontheceiling!
ItisthePlacedelaConcorde.
Thelittlecrystalchandelier
isoff,thefountainisinthedark.
Notasoulisinthepark.
Below,wherethewallpaperispeeling,
theJardindesPlanteshaslockeditsgates.
Thosephotographsareanimals.
Themightyflowersandfoliagerustle;
undertheleavestheinsectstunnel.
Wemustgounderthewallpaper
tomeettheinsect-gladiator,
tobattlewithanetandtrident,
andleavethefountainandthesquare.
SleepingStandingUp
Asweliedowntosleeptheworldturnshalfaway
throughninetydarkdegrees;
thebureauliesonthewall
andthoughtsthatwererecumbentintheday
riseastheothersfall,
standupandmakeaforestofthick-settrees.
Thearmoredcarsofdreams,contrivedtoletusdo
somanyadangerousthing,
arechuggingatitsedge
allcamouflaged,andreadytogothrough
theswifteststreams,orupaledge
ofcrumblingshale,whileplatesandtrappingsring.
—Throughturret-slitswesawthecrumbsorpebblesthatlay
belowtherivetedflanks
onthegreenforestfloor,
likethosethecleverchildrenplacedbyday
andfollowedtotheirdoor
onenight,atleast;andintheuglytanks
wetrackedthemallthenight.Sometimestheydisappeared,
dissolvinginthemoss,
sometimeswewenttoofast
andgroundthemunderneath.Howstupidlywesteered
untilthenightwaspast
andneverfoundoutwherethecottagewas.
Cirqued’Hiver
Acrossthefloorflitsthemechanicaltoy,
fitforakingofseveralcenturiesback.
Alittlecircushorsewithrealwhitehair.
Hiseyesareglossyblack.
Hebearsalittledanceronhisback.
Shestandsuponhertoesandturnsandturns.
Aslantingsprayofartificialroses
isstitchedacrossherskirtandtinselbodice.
Aboveherheadsheposes
anothersprayofartificialroses.
HismaneandtailarestraightfromChirico.
Hehasaformal,melancholysoul.
Hefeelsherpinktoesdangletowardhisback
alongthelittlepole
thatpiercesbothherbodyandhersoul
andgoesthroughhis,andreappearsbelow,
underhisbelly,asabigtinkey.
Hecantersthreesteps,thenhemakesabow,
cantersagain,bowsononeknee,
canters,thenclicksandstops,andlooksatme.
Thedancer,bythistime,hasturnedherback.
Heisthemoreintelligentbyfar.
Facingeachotherratherdesperately—
hiseyeislikeastar—
westareandsay,“Well,wehavecomethisfar.”
Florida
Thestatewiththeprettiestname,
thestatethatfloatsinbrackishwater,
held
togetherbymangroveroots
thatbearwhilelivingoystersinclusters,
andwhendeadstrewwhiteswampswithskeletons,
dottedasifbombarded,withgreenhummocks
likeancientcannon-ballssproutinggrass.
ThestatefulloflongS-shapedbirds,blueandwhite,
andunseenhystericalbirdswhorushupthescale
everytimeinatantrum.
Tanagersembarrassedbytheirflashiness,
andpelicanswhosedelightitistoclown;
whocoastforfunonthestrongtidalcurrents
inandoutamongthemangroveislands
andstandonthesand-barsdryingtheirdampgoldwings
onsun-litevenings.
Enormousturtles,helplessandmild,
dieandleavetheirbarnacledshellsonthebeaches,
andtheirlargewhiteskullswithroundeye-sockets
twicethesizeofaman’s.
Thepalmtreesclatterinthestiffbreeze
likethebillsofthepelicans.Thetropicalraincomesdown
tofreshenthetide-loopedstringsoffadingshells:
Job’sTear,theChineseAlphabet,thescarceJunonia,
parti-coloredpectinsandLadies’Ears,
arrangedasonagrayragofrottedcalico,
theburiedIndianPrincess’sskirt;
withthesethemonotonous,endless,saggingcoast-line
isdelicatelyornamented.
Thirtyormorebuzzardsaredriftingdown,down,down,
oversomethingtheyhavespottedintheswamp,
incircleslikestirred-upflakesofsediment
sinkingthroughwater.
Smokefromwoods-firesfiltersfinebluesolvents.
Onstumpsanddeadtreesthecharringislikeblackvelvet.
Themosquitoes
gohuntingtothetuneoftheirferociousobbligatos.
Afterdark,thefirefliesmaptheheavensinthemarsh
untilthemoonrises.
Coldwhite,notbright,themoonlightiscoarse-meshed,
andthecareless,corruptstateisallblackspecks
toofarapart,anduglywhites;thepoorest
post-cardofitself.
Afterdark,thepoolsseemtohaveslippedaway.
Thealligator,whohasfivedistinctcalls:
friendliness,love,mating,war,andawarning—
whimpersandspeaksinthethroat
oftheIndianPrincess.
Jerónimo’sHouse
andonthetable
palace,is
onefriedfish
ofperishable
spatteredwithburning
clapboardswith
scarletsauce,
threeroomsinall,
alittledish
mygraywasps’nest
ofhominygrits
ofchewed-uppaper
andfourpinktissue-
gluedwithspit.
paperroses.
Myhome,mylove-nest,
AlsoIhave
isendowed
hungonahook,
withaveranda
anoldFrenchhorn
ofwoodenlace,
repaintedwith
adornedwithferns
aluminumpaint.
plantedinsponges,
Iplayeachyear
andthefrontroom
intheparade
withredandgreen
forJoséMarti.
left-overChristmas
Atnightyou’dthink
decorations
myhouseabandoned.
loopedfromthecorners
Comecloser.You
tothemiddle
canseeandhear
abovemylittle
thewriting-paper
centertable
linesoflight
ofwovenwicker
andthevoicesof
paintedblue,
myradio
andfourbluechairs
singingflamencos
andanaffair
inbetween
forthesmallestbaby
thelotterynumbers.
withatray
WhenImove
withtenbigbeads.
Itakethesethings,
Thenonthewalls
notmuchmore,from
twopalm-leaffans
myshelterfrom
andacalendar
thehurricane.
Roosters
Atfouro’clock
inthegun-metalbluedark
wehearthefirstcrowofthefirstcock
justbelow
thegun-metalbluewindow
andimmediatelythereisanecho
offinthedistance,
thenonefromthebackyardfence,
thenone,withhorribleinsistence,
grateslikeawetmatch
fromthebroccolipatch,
flares,andallovertownbeginstocatch.
Criesgalore
comefromthewater-closetdoor,
fromthedropping-plasteredhenhousefloor,
whereintheblueblur
theirrustlingwivesadmire,
theroostersbracetheircruelfeetandglare
withstupideyes
whilefromtheirbeaksthererise
theuncontrolled,traditionalcries.
Deepfromprotrudingchests
ingreen-goldmedalsdressed,
plannedtocommandandterrorizetherest,
themanywives
wholeadhens’lives
ofbeingcourtedanddespised;
deepfromrawthroats
asenselessorderfloats
allovertown.Aroostergloats
overourbeds
fromrustyironsheds
andfencesmadefromoldbedsteads,
overourchurches
wherethetinroosterperches,
overourlittlewoodennorthernhouses,
makingsallies
fromallthemuddyalleys,
markingoutmapslikeRandMcNally’s:
glass-headedpins,
oil-goldsandcoppergreens,
anthraciteblues,alizarins,
eachoneanactive
displacementinperspective;
eachscreaming,“ThisiswhereIlive!”
Eachscreaming
“Getup!Stopdreaming!”
Roosters,whatareyouprojecting?
You,whomtheGreekselected
toshootatonapost,whostruggled
whensacrificed,youwhomtheylabeled
“Verycombative…”
whatrighthaveyoutogive
commandsandtellushowtolive,
cry“Here!”and“Here!”
andwakeusherewhereare
unwantedlove,conceitandwar?
Thecrownofred
setonyourlittlehead
ischargedwithallyourfightingblood.
Yes,thatexcrescence
makesamostvirilepresence,
plusallthatvulgarbeautyofiridescence.
Nowinmid-air
bytwostheyfighteachother.
Downcomesafirstflame-feather,
andoneisflying,
withragingheroismdefying
eventhesensationofdying.
Andonehasfallen,
butstillabovethetown
historn-out,bloodiedfeathersdriftdown;
andwhathesung
nomatter.Heisflung
onthegrayash-heap,liesindung
withhisdeadwives
withopen,bloodyeyes,
whilethosemetallicfeathersoxidize.
St.Peter’ssin
wasworsethanthatofMagdalen
whosesinwasofthefleshalone;
ofspirit,Peter’s,
falling,beneaththeflares,
amongthe“servantsandofficers.”
Oldholysculpture
couldsetitalltogether
inonesmallscene,pastandfuture:
Christstandsamazed,
Peter,twofingersraised
tosurprisedlips,bothasifdazed.
Butinbetween
alittlecockisseen
carvedonadimcolumninthetravertine
explainedby galluscanit;
fletPetrusunderneathit.
Thereisinescapablehope,thepivot;
yes,andtherePeter’stears
rundownourchanticleer’s
sidesandgemhisspurs.
Tear-encrustedthick
asamedievalrelic
hewaits.PoorPeter,heart-sick,
stillcannotguess
thosecock-a-doodlesyetmightbless,
hisdreadfulroostercometomeanforgiveness,
anewweathervane
onbasilicaandbarn,
andthatoutsidetheLateran
therewouldalwaysbe
abronzecockonaporphyry
pillarsothepeopleandthePopemightsee
thateventhePrince
oftheApostleslongsince
hadbeenforgiven,andtoconvince
alltheassembly
that“Denydenydeny”
isnotalltheroosterscry.
Inthemorning
alowlightisfloating
inthebackyard,andgilding
fromunderneath
thebroccoli,leafbyleaf;
howcouldthenighthavecometogrief?
gildingthetiny
floatingswallow’sbelly
andlinesofpinkcloudinthesky,
theday’spreamble
likewanderinglinesinmarble.
Thecocksarenowalmostinaudible.
Thesunclimbsin,
following“toseetheend,”
faithfulasenemy,orfriend.
Seascape
Thiscelestialseascape,withwhiteheronsgotupasangels,
flyingashighastheywantandasfarastheywantsidewise
intiersandtiersofimmaculatereflections;
thewholeregion,fromthehighestheron
downtotheweightlessmangroveisland