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The Complete Poems of A R Ammons, Volume 2

Page 64

by A. R. Ammons


  world: the sun has had its earliest setting,

  and Christmas is only a dusting white: I

  remember an ancient Christmas morning with my

  tin toy mule and milk wagon on the quilt:

  25I was four and that little thing tied a world

  together: it was a miracle: but that is a

  story too old to save. . . .

  WE FORD LOW WATER AND FERRY DEEP

  (1998)

  Rattling Freight Lines

  December 30th and already the sun setting

  cleared the crabapple tree branch northbound:

  the sun, though, still rises later till, say,

  the middle of January, but then day will widen

  _________

  5on both sides, opening like a flower, the mother

  of all flowers: what summary learning is one

  to take from all this: why, that it is some

  of the world’s oldest baggage, incredibly new:

  we got our kicks in year 96 but will the market

  10be heaven in ninety-seven: oops, there it

  goes, poetry again: rilly quaint: (actually,

  I stand on the corner of the livingroom rug,

  and that is what makes the sun always set

  earliest behind the crabapple branch): (if

  15the rug slips or the branch sways, the whole

  cosmos will be off:) (imagine an inch shifting

  a nebula): it seems better not to make living

  the object: because if living is the object,

  death dismisses the proceeds: I presume I am

  20trying to make something, not a living surely:

  what I am trying to make (prosetry?) prevents

  me from undertaking the routes to living:

  what would it mean to go in for living, what

  would one do, apart, of course, from the

  25terror of the adamant scythe: abandon oneself

  to one’s appetites (eat, drink, be merry, for)

  (the hornet’s nest’s paper weight gives spring

  to the limb, a breeze that shivers empty twigs)

  and complications right away arise. . . .

  That’s What I Just Got Through Saying

  Shakespeare makes speaking, poetry: how does

  he do that, anyhow: but, of course, nobody

  in England ever talked liked that: or anywhere

  else: but S distinguished between poetry and

  5prose, poetry metrical (and sometimes rimed):

  so poetry, am I to think, is at least mechanically

  metrical: but on the chance that tidal rhythm

  which is the kind I write—prosetry—can be

  allowed, I make a new word for it, probably

  10not new: prosetry, though, is a word for the

  groundlings who are probably incapable of a

  perception not a definition: I expect the

  sensitive and listening to hear the music in

  prosetry and be able to pick out the poetry

  15and then see that it prevails overall: or

  else what is intelligence for: all that is

  music from the past must be kept and all that

  is sound given up: and new sound must ever so

  subtly inform the old music (the deep silent

  20dynamics) and hold us safely in the arms of

  our fathers, as we hold our children in our

  arms: please, let’s not hear anything more

  about prosetry. . . .

  It Doesn’t Hold Water

  So many people, you know, use their mouths as

  an amusement park: they do rides on the

  crunchymunchies, or slip down the slurp sluice,

  or take in the carbonated baths, bubble burns,

  5or merry-go-round the chocolate box: this kind

  of amusement, though, is like any other: you

  have to pay for it: pounds and pounds and

  pounds, and even some dollars: this amusement

  feels light—indeed, is—but turns heavy:

  10still, I think you’re better off using your

  mouth for an amusement park than a playground:

  whatever that is: careful with that one: my

  advice is, use your mouth for a monastery and

  keep the gate shut: or use it for a nunnery:

  15pray, and burn your fat and the candle’s: I

  find it awkward to type and eat (it is not

  impossible to do so) so I type a lot: I melt

  calories into letters: I have a letter box

  like an ancient printer: his lead is my lead:

  20I hand type as he hand set: as I see him,

  covered with ink and metal, I see him too busy

  to eat: a ligature, a quarto, a folio, these

  were his intervals, his lunch breaks: I see

  him musing appreciatively over his work, a

  _________

  25lean person with a sober expression: he leans

  back against the counter and doesn’t get all

  the lead off his fingers: (I think he has a

  leather apron on): use your mouth as a

  hangar and hold the words in or let them fly.

  Tom Fool

  But what giving is to be expected from someone

  who has nothing to give: and if one is to

  have something to give, where is he to get it:

  will others give it to him: let’s say, not

  5consistently: and for what is given him, is

  he to be paralyzed in a humiliation of

  gratitude: can’t one who has much give much,

  if he will: where is one to acquire much,

  except by making, keeping, and accruing, even

  10at a profit from others for services rendered:

  if you have something to give, should you give

  it to an individual who may be a wastrel or

  vagabond, or should you give it to the

  community as capitalization for business

  15activities bringing, maybe, jobs for carpenters,

  word processors, software designers, so that

  you make money yourself by giving, in a

  sense, to all: well, you can see it isn’t

  _________

  easy, is it: look after yourself, you may be,

  20if inadvertently, looking after others: at

  least, you won’t be one yourself who needs to

  be looked after by others: he creates a boon

  who removes himself from welfare: as for me,

  I am as much an innocent standbyer as bystander

  25which is to say, I may be participating even

  when I am saying nothing, whenever that was:

  but, all in all, the world doesn’t make much

  sense unless we make a little something up

  TO GO WITH IT

  Ringadingding

  Dress up a charlatan like a lord, and who is

  the lord: or don beggar’s rags upon a beggar

  and watch the curtseys stumble: if clothes

  are the man, it is only so in consideration of

  5clothes—but since that consideration can

  pass for the whole, man and all, it can be all:

  the rich dress down and the poor up to achieve

  true levels of participation that are truly

  lies: well, misstatements of sign: you can,

  10indeed, not know the true man at all, if the

  true man differs from the clothes he wears,

  by the clothes he wears: I would have you

  _________

  stumble there, as before the good writer

  poorly dressed: looking good or bad, I pledge

  15to prefer no charge against myself: when the

  police show up, I’ll hire the best lawyer in

  town and get off, tried or mistried: I’ll pump

  money into my lawyer, and his mouth will fly<
br />
  with devices, exceptions, exemptions, and sweet

  20big words: I am not going to let myself lie

  around undefended and defenseless: I haven’t

  done anything: I’ve done hardly anything now

  for years: the sweetest leisure is work of

  one’s own choosing: (life is short, even when

  25it isn’t): I mean, I haven’t done anything the

  law doesn’t allow or can’t find: but inside,

  where the differences are, everybody is in

  court, tongues and heads are flying and chains

  are rattling: can, I cry out, we bring some of

  30these issues to trial: oh, no, when one is

  oneself jury, accuser, pleader, judge subduing

  the maelstrom lacks separation, the fiddling

  aside of the plainly innocent: live for others:

  living for others is life for oneself: live

  35for yourself, you put your self at odds with

  all mankind, and you grow sour in your losses

  or gains: cut off, you win or lose against

  yourself, which is never winning: live for

  _________

  others, not that they may live for themselves,

  40but that they, too, may live for others: life

  for all can come of this, since giving is the

  sweetest given, given back: the world’s twisty

  and the straightaway is crooked and the crooked

  straightaway. . . .

  I Wouldn’t Go So Far As to Say That

  The trouble with style is that it cannot look

  ragged if clean cut, nor empty if full, nor

  colorless if bejeweled: I mean, you would

  think that: but so much colorful stuff is

  5trashy and boring, and serene emptiness is the

  highest plane in some spheres, and raggedness

  can look like clean displays of ruffles: I am

  so impressed with the malleability of things

  that I’m ready to let almost anything go: how

  10do you want the world, well, within reason,

  have it any way you please: many can be boring

  in their richest effort, but how can I be

  plainly, truthfully boring except by being

  boring (clever line break): and how can I

  15burst out into something if I already know the

  program: but how can you bear exposure—and

  why should you—to so much trot: I don’t

  know any reason except to be there when the

  _________

  deal goes down, when competence stumbles and

  20reveals its dirty underclothes, or when the

  spirit’s whirlwind strikes the windy hills to

  raise the dust: but I also wonder how you can

  bear to be in the presence of the well-written

  all the time: so, some little creep can iron

  25it out and measure it off, doodle some outlines

  and make it look neat: let him: her: what to

  do about style is one of my meanest problems:

  I wrote some poems really short: I revised a

  few till they were just perfectly revised: I

  30confess now to some interest in good bad

  writing: I would just as soon see what I can

  do about getting across the river when the

  bridge floods out: what do I know: it may not

  even rain: or if it rains, the sky may clear

  35so gloriously gold-fringed that I will weep:

  prepared weeping may not achieve its tears,

  but tears cannot be prevented when they have

  to gather: this is an example: it’s not

  revised, it’s bad, it’s wonderful. . . .

  Thrown for a Loop

  There’s so much more belief than truth, and

  that is lucky in a way, belief inclining us

  _________

  more toward what we need than what we’ll get:

  but we really do believe what we believe and

  5we hope it will work out: but put a plug of

  gold on the scale opposite a sack full of

  painted feathers, truth will that great woven

  cluster outweigh: the fulcrum could be called

  “getting along”—and that’s where balanced

  10persons no doubt stand: those who slip down

  the arm toward feathers keep an eye back on

  truth, I’ll bet, and those heavy with truth,

  which is sometimes ruthlessly truth, oh, they

  longingly look toward the painted fare: belief

  15can fulfill dramas of yearning, while truth’s

  exactions narrow down the margins: but even

  when it’s a tightrope it’s somewhere to walk,

  while dramas address theatrical appetites:

  that truth and belief are one, cooperating one

  20with the other, that is simply GRAND, and they

  sometimes do, aiming at heaven, cooperate: I

  think that this means only that illusion plays

  well against reality, though we have so much

  trouble telling which is which, truth often

  25losing the figurements of its setup, and

  illusion as often floating off, a grain of

  _________

  reality its core: there is a sufficient place

  in the mind that turns away into the errors

  of explanation just to be about: the sitting

  30center’s butt gets tired, and the feet and

  legs can do with a little circulation, like

  walking out into the country to chat with the

  farmers, lend a hand, or help a calf stand up

  in its freshest morning: do with the obvious:

  35little lies behind it. . . .

  (1998)

  Wrong Road

  So I said to the short-order cook (because I

  think he owns the joint) what did Santa bring

  you: a fairly aggressive bit of humor, since

  I hardly know the man: my wife and I stop

  5there occasionally on the way to Syracuse

  because it is so busy, the eggs are right, and

  the waitresses friendly: when he says, Oh,

  some of this and that: so I said, a boat:

  (checking to see if he was really rich): a

  10gun, I said—maybe he was just one of the

  guys: I have a lot of guns, he said: well,

  I don’t think he ever did say what he got,

  some clothes, maybe: he was turning too many

  eggs, jigging hash browns: on the way to

  _________

  15Syracuse, I finished it in my head: he got

  angry: who’s asking, he says: so I try to

  bring him down: I’m too old to rise up to

  risibility: I said, I’m a little older than

  you, so I was wondering, because I was disappointed

  20in myself when my wife asked me before Xmas

  what I wanted for Christmas: I couldn’t think

  of anything: what does it mean to want nothing

  from Santa: so I just wondered what sort of

  thing you might have wanted, or if you had

  25liked what you got: well (reader) this last

  part doesn’t sound as good as the way it came

  to me around Lafayette: I have a little tingle

  of fear that the next time I stop there, the

  guy will say, listen, buddy, I’m old enough

 

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