withexhortation,yellowed
asscatteredcattle-teeth;
half-filledwithdust,noteventhedust
ofthepoorprophetpaynimwhooncelaythere.
InasmartburnooseKhadourlookedonamused.
Everythingonlyconnectedby“and”and“and.”
Openthebook.(Thegiltrubsofftheedges
ofthepagesandpollinatesthefingertips.)
Opentheheavybook.Whycouldn’twehaveseen
thisoldNativitywhilewewereatit?
—thedarkajar,therocksbreakingwithlight,
anundisturbed,unbreathingflame,
colorless,sparkless,freelyfedonstraw,
and,lulledwithin,afamilywithpets,
—andlookedandlookedourinfantsightaway.
TheBight
[Onmybirthday]
Atlowtidelikethishowsheerthewateris.
White,crumblingribsofmarlprotrudeandglare
andtheboatsaredry,thepilingsdryasmatches.
Absorbing,ratherthanbeingabsorbed,
thewaterinthebightdoesn’twetanything,
thecolorofthegasflameturnedaslowaspossible.
Onecansmellitturningtogas;ifonewereBaudelaire
onecouldprobablyhearitturningtomarimbamusic.
Thelittleocherdredgeatworkofftheendofthedock
alreadyplaysthedryperfectlyoff-beatclaves.
Thebirdsareoutsize.Pelicanscrash
intothispeculiargasunnecessarilyhard,
itseemstome,likepickaxes,
rarelycomingupwithanythingtoshowforit,
andgoingoffwithhumorouselbowings.
Black-and-whiteman-of-warbirdssoar
onimpalpabledrafts
andopentheirtailslikescissorsonthecurves
ortensethemlikewishbones,tilltheytremble.
Thefrowsyspongeboatskeepcomingin
withtheobligingairofretrievers,
bristlingwithjackstrawgaffsandhooks
anddecoratedwithbobblesofsponges.
Thereisafenceofchickenwirealongthedock
where,glintinglikelittleplowshares,
theblue-graysharktailsarehunguptodry
fortheChinese-restauranttrade.
Someofthelittlewhiteboatsarestillpiledup
againsteachother,orlieontheirsides,stovein,
andnotyetsalvaged,iftheyeverwillbe,fromthelastbadstorm,
liketorn-open,unansweredletters.
Thebightislitteredwitholdcorrespondences.
Click.Click.Goesthedredge,
andbringsupadrippingjawfulofmarl.
Alltheuntidyactivitycontinues,
awfulbutcheerful.
ASummer’sDream
Tothesaggingwharf
fewshipscouldcome.
Thepopulationnumbered
twogiants,anidiot,adwarf,
agentlestorekeeper
asleepbehindhiscounter,
andourkindlandlady—
thedwarfwasherdressmaker.
Theidiotcouldbebeguiled
bypickingblackberries,
butthenthrewthemaway.
Theshrunkenseamstresssmiled.
Bythesea,lying
blueasamackerel,
ourboardinghousewasstreaked
asthoughithadbeencrying.
Extraordinarygeraniums
crowdedthefrontwindows,
thefloorsglitteredwith
assortedlinoleums.
Everynightwelistened
forahornedowl.
Inthehornedlampflame,
thewallpaperglistened.
Thegiantwiththestammer
wasthelandlady’sson,
grumblingonthestairs
overanoldgrammar.
Hewasmorose,
butshewascheerful.
Thebedroomwascold,
thefeatherbedclose.
Wewerewakenedinthedarkby
thesomnambulistbrook
nearingthesea,
stilldreamingaudibly.
AttheFishhouses
Althoughitisacoldevening,
downbyoneofthefishhouses
anoldmansitsnetting,
hisnet,inthegloamingalmostinvisible
adarkpurple-brown,
andhisshuttlewornandpolished.
Theairsmellssostrongofcodfish
itmakesone’snoserunandone’seyeswater.
Thefivefishhouseshavesteeplypeakedroofs
andnarrow,cleatedgangplanksslantup
tostoreroomsinthegables
forthewheelbarrowstobepushedupanddownon.
Allissilver:theheavysurfaceofthesea,
swellingslowlyasifconsideringspillingover,
isopaque,butthesilverofthebenches,
thelobsterpots,andmasts,scattered
amongthewildjaggedrocks,
isofanapparenttranslucence
likethesmalloldbuildingswithanemeraldmoss
growingontheirshorewardwalls.
Thebigfishtubsarecompletelylined
withlayersofbeautifulherringscales
andthewheelbarrowsaresimilarlyplastered
withcreamyiridescentcoatsofmail,
withsmalliridescentfliescrawlingonthem.
Uponthelittleslopebehindthehouses,
setinthesparsebrightsprinkleofgrass,
isanancientwoodencapstan,
cracked,withtwolongbleachedhandles
andsomemelancholystains,likedriedblood,
wheretheironworkhasrusted.
TheoldmanacceptsaLuckyStrike.
Hewasafriendofmygrandfather.
Wetalkofthedeclineinthepopulation
andofcodfishandherring
whilehewaitsforaherringboattocomein.
Therearesequinsonhisvestandonhisthumb.
Hehasscrapedthescales,theprincipalbeauty,
fromunnumberedfishwiththatblackoldknife,
thebladeofwhichisalmostwornaway.
Downatthewater’sedge,attheplace
wheretheyhauluptheboats,upthelongramp
descendingintothewater,thinsilver
treetrunksarelaidhorizontally
acrossthegraystones,downanddown
atintervalsoffourorfivefeet.
Colddarkdeepandabsolutelyclear,
elementbearabletonomortal,
tofishandtoseals…Onesealparticularly
Ihaveseenhereeveningafterevening.
Hewascuriousaboutme.Hewasinterestedinmusic;
likemeabelieverintotalimmersion,
soIusedtosinghimBaptisthymns.
Ialsosang“AMightyFortressIsOurGod.”
Hestoodupinthewaterandregardedme
steadily,movinghisheadalittle.
Thenhewoulddisappear,thensuddenlyemerge
almostinthesamespot,withasortofshrug
asifitwereagainsthisbetterjudgment.
Colddarkdeepandabsolutelyclear,
thecleargrayicywater…Back,behindus,
thedignifiedtallfirsbegin.
Bluish,associatingwiththeirshadows,
amillionChristmastreesstand
waitingforChristmas.Thewaterseemssuspended
abovetheroundedgrayandblue-graystones.
Ihaveseenitoverandover,thesamesea,thesame,
slightly,indifferentlyswingingabovethestones,
icilyfreeabovethestones,
abovethestonesandthentheworld.
Ifyoushoulddipyourhandin,
yourwristwouldacheimmediately,
yourboneswouldbegintoacheandyourhandwouldburn
asifthewaterwereatransmutationoffire
thatfeedsonstonesandburnswithadarkgrayflame.
Ifyoutastedit,itwouldfirsttastebitter,
thenbriny,thensurelyburnyourtongue.
Itislikewhatweimagineknowledgetobe:
dark,salt,clear,moving,utterlyfree,
drawnfromthecoldhardmouth
oftheworld,derivedfromtherockybreasts
forever,flowinganddrawn,andsince
ourknowledgeishistorical,flowing,andflown.
CapeBreton
Outonthehigh“birdislands,”CibouxandHertford,
therazorbillauksandthesilly-lookingpuffinsallstand
withtheirbackstothemainland
insolemn,unevenlinesalongthecliff’sbrowngrass-frayededge,
whilethefewsheeppasturedtherego“Baaa,baaa.”
(Sometimes,frightenedbyaeroplanes,theystampede
andfalloverintotheseaorontotherocks.)
Thesilkenwaterisweavingandweaving,
disappearingunderthemistequallyinalldirections,
liftedandpenetratednowandthen
byoneshag’sdrippingserpent-neck,
andsomewherethemistincorporatesthepulse,
rapidbutunurgent,ofamotorboat.
Thesamemisthangsinthinlayers
amongthevalleysandgorgesofthemainland
likerottingsnow-icesuckedaway
almosttospirit;theghostsofglaciersdrift
amongthosefoldsandfoldsoffir:spruceandhackmatack—
dull,dead,deeppeacock-colors,
eachriserdistinguishedfromthenext
byanirregularnervoussaw-toothedge,
alike,butcertainasastereoscopicview.
Thewildroadclambersalongthebrinkofthecoast.
Onitstandoccasionalsmallyellowbulldozers,
butwithouttheirdrivers,becausetodayisSunday.
Thelittlewhitechurcheshavebeendroppedintothemattedhills likelostquartzarrowheads.
Theroadappearstohavebeenabandoned.
Whateverthelandscapehadofmeaningappearstohavebeen
abandoned,
unlesstheroadisholdingitback,intheinterior,
wherewecannotsee,
wheredeeplakesarereputedtobe,
anddisusedtrailsandmountainsofrock
andmilesofburntforestsstandingingrayscratches
liketheadmirablescripturesmadeonstonesbystones—
andtheseregionsnowhavelittletosayforthemselves
exceptinthousandsoflightsong-sparrowsongsfloatingupward
freely,dispassionately,throughthemist,andmeshing
inbrown-wet,fine,tornfish-nets.
Asmallbuscomesalong,inup-and-downrushes,
packedwithpeople,eventoitsstep.
(Onweekdayswithgroceries,spareautomobileparts,andpumpparts,
buttodayonlytwopreachersextra,onecarryinghisfrockcoatonahanger.) Itpassestheclosedroadsidestand,theclosedschoolhouse,
wheretodaynoflagisflying
fromtherough-adzedpoletoppedwithawhitechinadoorknob.
Itstops,andamancarryingababygetsoff,
climbsoverastile,andgoesdownthroughasmallsteepmeadow,
whichestablishesitspovertyinasnowfallofdaisies,
tohisinvisiblehousebesidethewater.
Thebirdskeeponsinging,acalfbawls,thebusstarts.
Thethinmistfollows
thewhitemutationsofitsdream;
anancientchillisripplingthedarkbrooks.
ViewofTheCapitolfromTheLibraryofCongress
Movingfromlefttoleft,thelight
isheavyontheDome,andcoarse.
Onesmalllunetteturnsitaside
andblanklystaresofftotheside
likeabigwhiteoldwall-eyedhorse.
OntheeaststepstheAirForceBand
inuniformsofAirForceblue
isplayinghardandloud,but—queer—
themusicdoesn’tquitecomethrough.
Itcomesinsnatches,dimthenkeen,
thenmute,andyetthereisnobreeze.
Thegianttreesstandinbetween.
Ithinkthetreesmustintervene,
catchingthemusicintheirleaves
likegold-dust,tilleachbigleafsags.
Unceasinglythelittleflags
feedtheirlimpstripesintotheair,
andtheband’seffortsvanishthere.
Greatshades,edgeover,
givethemusicroom.
Thegatheredbrasseswanttogo
boom—boom.
Insomnia
Themooninthebureaumirror
looksoutamillionmiles
(andperhapswithpride,atherself,
butshenever,neversmiles)
farandawaybeyondsleep,or
perhapsshe’sadaytimesleeper.
BytheUniversedeserted,
she’dtellittogotohell,
andshe’dfindabodyofwater,
oramirror,onwhichtodwell.
Sowrapupcareinacobweb
anddropitdownthewell
intothatworldinverted
whereleftisalwaysright,
wheretheshadowsarereallythebody,
wherewestayawakeallnight,
wheretheheavensareshallowasthesea
isnowdeep,andyouloveme.
TheProdigal
Thebrownenormousodorhelivedby
wastooclose,withitsbreathingandthickhair,
forhimtojudge.Thefloorwasrotten;thesty
wasplasteredhalfwayupwithglass-smoothdung.
Light-lashed,self-righteous,abovemovingsnouts,
thepigs’eyesfollowedhim,acheerfulstare—
eventothesowthatalwaysateheryoung—
till,sickening,heleanedtoscratchherhead.
Butsometimesmorningsafterdrinkingbouts
(hehidthepintsbehindatwo-by-four),
thesunriseglazedthebarnyardmudwithred;
theburningpuddlesseemedtoreassure.
Andthenhethoughthealmostmightendure
hisexileyetanotheryearormore.
Buteveningsthefirststarcametowarn.
Thefarmerwhomheworkedforcameatdark
toshutthecowsandhorsesinthebarn
beneaththeiroverhangingcloudsofhay,
withpitchforks,faintforkedlightnings,catchinglight,
safeandcompanionableasintheArk.
Thepigsstuckouttheirlittlefeetandsnored.
laidonthemudapacingaureole.
Carryingabucketalongaslimyboard,
hefeltthebats’uncertainstaggeringflight,
hisshudderinginsights,beyondhiscontrol,
touchinghim.Butittookhimalongtime
finallytomakehisminduptogohome.
Faustina,orRockRoses
TendedbyFaustina
yesinacrazyhouse
uponacrazybed,
frail,ofchippedenamel,
bloomingaboveherhead
intofourvaguelyroselike
flower-formations,
thewhitewomanwhispersto
herself.Thefloorboardssag
thiswayandthat.Thecrooked
towel-coveredtable
bearsacanoftalcum
andfivepasteboardboxes
oflittle
pills,
mosthalf-crystallized.
Thevisitorsitsandwatches
thedewglintonthescreen
andinittwoglow-worms
burningadrownedgreen.
Meanwhiletheeighty-wattbulb
betraysusall,
discoveringtheconcern
withinourstupefaction;
lightingaswellonheads
oftacksinthewallpaper,
onapaperwall-pocket,
violet-embossed,glistening
withmicaflakes.
Itexposesthefinewhitehair,
thegownwiththeundershirt
showingattheneck,
thepallidpalm-leaffan
sheholdsbutcannotwield,
herwhitedisorderedsheets
likewiltedroses.
Clutteroftrophies,
chamberofbleachedflags!
—Ragsorraggedgarments
hungonthechairsandhooks
eachcontributingits
shadeofwhite,confusing
asundazzling.
Thevisitorisembarrassed
notbypainnorage
norevennakedness,
thoughperhapsbyitsreverse.
Byandbythewhisper
says, “Faustina,Faustina…”
“¡Vengo,señora!”
Onbarescrapingfeet
Faustinanearsthebed.
Sheexhibitsthetalcumpowder,
thepills,thecansof“cream,”
thewhitebowloffarina,
requestingforherself
alittle coñac;
complainingof,explaining,
thetermsofheremployment.
Shebendsabovetheother.
Hersinisterkindface
presentsacruelblack
coincidentconundrum.
Oh,isit
freedomatlast,alifelong
dreamoftimeandsilence,
dreamofprotectionandrest?
Orisittheveryworst,
theunimaginablenightmare
thatneverbeforedaredlast
morethanasecond?
Theacutenessofthequestion
forksinstantlyandstarts
asnake-tongueflickering;
blursfurther,blunts,softens,
separates,falls,ourproblems
becominghelplessly
proliferative.
Thereisnowayoftelling.
Theeyessayonlyeither.
Atlastthevisitorrises,
awkwardlyproffersherbunch
ofrust-perforatedroses
andwondersoh,whencecome
allthepetals.
VarickStreet
Atnightthefactories
struggleawake,