Book of Longing Page 7

  of the absolute filth

  I stumbled across.

  And all for the sake

  of an interested woman

  riding the night’s

  last flicker of hope,

  some tourist of beauty

  in full disappointment,

  ready to fall in love

  with a ghost.

  and here was the ghost

  with his third invention

  the usual shit

  for the highest reward;

  and now it was ready,

  the third invention.

  ready to fall

  in love with the world.

  And he falls back

  and she comes forward;

  his third invention

  measures them both.

  She lies in the arms

  of his third invention

  and back in his room,

  he commences the fourth.

  This is the work

  of the highest pretension

  an automatic ode

  to the world.

  O deep in the comfort

  of full employment,

  he’s lost to the fourth

  and he’s lost to the third

  – 1980

  MY MOTHER ASLEEP

  remembering my mother

  at a theatre in Athens

  thirty

  thirty-five years ago

  a revue by Theodorakis

  those great songs

  she fell asleep

  in the chair beside mine

  in the open-air theatre

  she had arrived that day

  from Montreal

  and the play started

  close to midnight

  and she slept through

  the mandolins

  the climbing harmonies

  and the great songs

  I was young

  I hadn’t had my children

  I didn’t know how far away

  your love could be

  I didn’t know

  how tired you could get

  ROBERT APPEARS AGAIN

  Well, Robert, here you are again talking to me at the Café de Flore in Paris. I haven’t seen you for a while. I have several versions of that sonnet I wrote after your death but I never got it right. I love you, Robert, I still do. You were an interesting man, and the first friend I really quarrelled with. I’m slightly stoned on half-a-tab of speed I found in this old suit, it must be twenty years old, and I took it with a glass of orange juice. It couldn’t possibly work after all this time, but here we are, talking again. I’m glad you don’t tell me what it’s like where you are because I have no interest in the afterlife. You’re a little pissed off as usual, as if you’ve just come from something immensely boring. Here we are, talking about the lousy deal we negotiated for ourselves. What are you saying? Why are you smiling? I’m still working hard, Robert. I can’t seem to bring anything to completion and I’m in real trouble. The speed is wearing off, or the mood, and I can’t tell you an amusing story about my trouble, but you know what I mean. Of all my friends you know what I mean. Well, goodbye, Robert, and fuck you too. Your disembodied status entitles you to a lot of privileges, but you might have excused yourself before disappearing again for who knows how long.

  MY MOTHER IS NOT DEAD

  My mother isn’t really dead.

  Neither is yours.

  I’m so happy for you.

  You thought your mother was dead,

  And now she isn’t.

  What about your father?

  Is he well?

  Don’t worry about any of your relatives.

  Do you see the insects?

  One of them was once your dog.

  But do not try to pat the ant.

  It will be destroyed by your awkward affection.

  The tree is trying to touch me.

  It used to be an afternoon.

  Mother, mother,

  I don’t have to miss you any more.

  Rover, Rover, Rex, Spot,

  Here is the bone of my heart.

  – after a photo by Hazel Field

  SHIRLEY

  Let me go back to Shirley

  She knew who I was

  before the ascension

  of sparks

  She led me to

  the bicycle of armholes

  and in her front

  I was the glass baseball

  of Ancient Greece

  the soaring stones

  of my mother’s mouth

  Shirley understood

  my straw and my lipstick

  the lacquered soda of ambition

  and the splash of mind

  as it all goes by

  She was the

  Nurse of Laughter

  in the Bat-House

  She laughed when

  I was born as a surprise

  in my father’s shaving kit

  But enough of you and

  you and you

  who have captured

  all the High Places

  I am the veteran

  the badge of red

  the very friend of Shirley

  Return to your

  leaves of winter

  and your sad jokes

  about the reservoirs of

  taxation

  THE BEST

  India has the best Ice Cream

  America the best Chocolate

  England the best Male Legs

  Spain the best Cross

  Italy the best Mist

  Israel the best Emergency

  Canada the best Light

  Mexico the best Eagles

  Portugal the best Lonely Islands

  Egypt the best Minorities

  Norway the best Music

  Morocco the best Jews

  Korea the best Italian Food

  I’ve been to too many countries

  I died when I left Montreal

  I met women I didn’t understand

  I pretended to get interested in food

  But it was all The Fear of Snow

  It was all The Will of G-d

  It was all The Heart

  swallowing The Other Organs

  It was Five Days of Summer

  and Two Days of Spring

  Mostly it was the Death of my Dog

  Sorrow is the time to begin

  Longing is the place to rejoice

  But I did not begin

  and I did not rejoice

  I was lazy in G-d

  Books lie open all around me

  Despite my efforts

  they keep coming into my room

  And there is a slab of old stone

  with cuneiform inscriptions

  When I lived in Montreal

  I knew what to wear

  I had old clothes

  and old friends

  and my dog had been dead

  for only ten or fifteen years

  Fortunately there is no Space

  for Regret

  in The Poverty

  of these Reflections

  CLOCKWORK

  the crow knows

  exactly where to sit

  on the yellow bench

  the wave

  exactly where to break

  the jaw that will not

  unclench

  is fastened perfectly

  to the writer’s skull

  future generations

  come like clockwork

  under the damp

  cement arches

  to include themselves

  in this well-recorded

  afternoon

  THE DRUNK IS GENDER-FREE

  This morning I woke up again

  I thank my Lord for that

  The world is such a pigpen

  That I have to wear a hat

  I love the Lord I praise the Lord

  I do the Lord forgive

  I hope I won’t be sorry

  For allowing Him to
live

  I know you like to get me drunk

  And laugh at what I say

  I’m very happy that you do

  I’m thirsty every day

  I’m angry with the angel

  Who pinched me on the thigh

  And made me fall in love

  With every woman passing by

  I know they are your sisters

  Your daughters mothers wives

  If I have left a woman out

  Then I apologize

  It’s fun to run to heaven

  When you’re off the beaten track

  The Lord is such a monkey when

  You’ve got Him on your back

  The Lord is such a monkey

  He’s such a woman too

  Such a place of nothing

  Such a face of you

  May E crash into your temple

  And look out thru’ your eyes

  And make you fall in love

  With everybody you despise

  NEVER MIND

  The war was lost

  The treaty signed

  I was not caught

  I crossed the line

  I had to leave

  My life behind

  I had a name

  But never mind

  Your victory

  Was so complete

  That some among you

  Thought to keep

  A record of

  Our little truth

  The cloth we wove

  The tools we used

  The games of luck

  Our soldiers played

  The stones we cut

  The songs we made

  Our law of peace

  Which understands

  A husband leads

  A wife commands

  And all of this

  Expressions of

  The Sweet Indifference

  Some call Love

  The Sweet Indifference

  Some call Fate

  But we had Names

  More intimate

  Names so deep

  and Names so true

  They’re lost to me

  And dead to you

  There is no need

  That this survive

  There’s truth that lives

  And truth that dies

  There’s truth that lives

  And truth that dies

  I don’t know which

  So never mind

  I could not kill

  The way you kill

  I could not hate

  I tried I failed

  No man can see

  The vast design

  Or who will be

  Last of his kind

  The story’s told

  With facts and lies

  You own the world

  So never mind

  THERE IS A MOMENT

  There is a moment in every day when I kneel before the love I have for you. Then I remember that I am still that man. And I know that my life’s work is to be that man, who leans over a white tablet humbled in his constant and signifying love for you. It is eight twenty-seven in the evening. Once again the thought of you has rescued me from the puzzle of my indifference

  and the hard wheel

  in the chest’s centre

  becomes a soft wheel

  G-d lies down next to His lamb

  so the creature can

  gather itself

  His Queen is massaged

  by a thousand versions

  of Her most devoted drone

  and there you are

  smiling at someone else

  in my vision of the lost kitchen

  and that is the way

  I finish my work

  until it starts again

  NIGHTINGALE

  I built my house beside the wood

  So I could hear you singing

  And it was sweet and it was good

  And love was all beginning

  Fare thee well my nightingale

  ’Twas long ago I found you

  Now all your songs of beauty fail

  The forest closes ’round you

  The sun goes down behind a veil

  ’Tis now that you would call me

  So rest in peace my nightingale

  Beneath your branch of holly

  Fare thee well my nightingale

  I lived but to be near you

  Though you are singing somewhere still

  I can no longer hear you

  THE FAITHLESS WIFE

  after the poem by Lorca

  The Night of Santiago

  And I was passing through

  So I took her to the river

  As any man would do

  She said she was a virgin

  That wasn’t what I’d heard

  But I’m not the Inquisition

  I took her at her word

  And yes she lied about it all

  Her children and her husband

  You were meant to judge the world

  Forgive me but I wasn’t

  The lights went out behind us

  The fireflies undressed

  The broken sidewalk ended

  I touched her sleeping breasts

  They opened to me urgently

  Like lilies from the dead

  Behind a fine embroidery

  Her nipples rose like bread

  Her petticoat was starched and loud

  And crushed between our legs

  It thundered like a living cloud

  Beset by razor blades

  No silver light to plate their leaves

  The trees grew wild and high

  A file of dogs patrolled the beach

  To keep the night alive

  We passed the thorns and berry bush

  The reeds and prickly pear

  I made a hollow in the earth

  To nest her dampened hair

  Then I took off my necktie

  And she took off her dress

  My belt and pistol set aside

  We tore away the rest

  Her skin was oil and ointments

  And brighter than a shell

  Your gold and glass appointments

  Will never shine so well

  Her thighs they slipped away from me

  Like schools of startled fish

  Though I’ve forgotten half my life

  I still remember this

  That night I ran the best of roads

  Upon a mighty charger

  But very soon I’m overthrown

  And she’s become the rider

  Now as a man I won’t repeat

  The things she said aloud

  Except for this my lips are sealed

  Forever and for now

  And soon there’s sand in every kiss

  And soon the dawn is ready

  And soon the night surrenders

  To a daffodil machete

  I gave her something pretty

  And I waited ’til she laughed

  I wasn’t born a gypsy

  To make a woman sad

  I didn’t fall in love. Of course

  It’s never up to you

  But she was walking back and forth

  And I was passing through

  When I took her to the river

  In her virginal apparel

  When I took her to the river

  On the Night of Santiago

  And yes she lied about her life

  Her children and her husband

  You were born to get it right

  Forgive me but I wasn’t

  The Night of Santiago

  And I was passing through

  And I took her to the river

  As any man would do

  TRAVELLING LIGHT #31

  I’m travelling light

  So Au Revoir

  I’ll miss my heart

  And my guitar

  It’s lovely here

  So far away

  I could
n’t take

  Another day

  The songs won’t come

  But if they did

  I’d go back home

  So G-d forbid

  I guess I’m just

  Somebody who

  Has given up

  On me and you

  I’m not alone

  I’ve met a few

  Who were travelling

  Travelling Light

  BACKYARD

  Sitting in the garden

  With my daughter’s dogs

  Looking at the oranges

  And the sky above

  Flowers with their shadows

  Moving two by two

  Listening to the traffic

  Hearing something new

  Then I start to struggle

  With a feeble song

  Which will overcome me

  Many miles from home

  WHEN I WENT OUT

  When I went out to tell her

  The love that can’t be told

  She hid in themes of marble

  And deep reliefs of gold

  When I caught her in the flesh

  And floated on her hips

  Her bosom was a fishing net

  To harvest infant lips

  A soft dismissal in her gaze

  And I was more than free

  But took a while to undertake

  My full transparency

  Ages since I went to look

  Or she would think to hide

  Torn the cover torn the book

  The stories all untied

  But someone made of thread and mist

  Attends her every grace

  Sees more beauty than I did

  When I was in his place