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As We Know

Page 6

by John Ashbery


  Indifferently then, but perhaps more accurately,

  And once it was over we knew

  What to do with it. We carried out

  Our neighbors’ lives and they had our

  Instructions about where to go. We lived

  Inadequately, blushing, but we knew we were

  On the outside and that only one thing

  Prevented us from traveling inward, and that

  Thing was our knowledge of how little we imagined

  Everything. As though a door

  Were enough to stop the average person and he

  Would just curl up on the doormat forever.

  But this

  Person turned out to be mass-produced. He was funny

  And knew about elegance, how to dress

  For an occasion, yet the error that incites us

  To duplication was missing, or inexact. We have

  Not spoken to him. It should be outrageous

  To do so. Yet to ignore him will bring no light.

  But to get it right

  We might ask this once: how goes it

  Down there? What objects

  Have you found recently?

  “There are no trade winds. The ocean too

  Is someone’s idea. The pleasant banter of

  The elements cannot disguise this basically

  Thin concept, nor remove us from

  Contemplation of it, and that is the best

  Answer that may precede the question. Until later

  When the shooting fires light up the sides

  Of the volcano and each task and catastrophe

  Become clear and succinct. By that time kindness

  Will have replaced effort.”

  Why keep on seeding the chairs

  When the future is night and no one knows what

  He wants? It would probably be best though

  To hang on to these words if only

  For the rhyme. Little enough,

  But later on, at the summit, it won’t

  Matter so much that they fled like arrows

  From the taut string of a restrained

  Consciousness, only that they mattered.

  For the present, our not-knowing

  Delights them. Probably they won’t be devoured

  By the lions, like the others, but be released

  After a certain time. Meanwhile, keep

  Careful count of the rows of windows overlooking

  The deep blue sky behind the factory: we’ll need them.

  I

  So this must be a hole

  Of cloud,

  Mandate or trap

  But haze that casts

  The milk of enchantment

  Over the whole town,

  Its scenery, whatever

  Could be happening

  Behind tall hedges

  Of dark, lissome knowledge.

  The brown lines persist

  In explicit sex

  Matters like these

  No one can care about,

  “Noone.” That is I’ve said it

  Before and no one

  Remembers except that elf.

  Around us are signposts

  Pointing to the past,

  The old-fashioned, pointed

  Wooden kind. And nothing directs

  To the present that is

  About to happen.

  These traumas

  That sped us on our way

  Are to be linked with the invisible damage

  Resulting in the future

  From too much direction,

  Too many coils

  Of remembrance, too much arbitration.

  And the sun shines

  On all of it

  Fairly and equitably.

  It was a way of getting to see the world

  At minimal cost and without

  Risk

  But it can no longer stand up to

  That.

  The fences are barrel staves

  Surrounding, encroaching on

  The pattern of the city,

  The formula that once made sense to

  A few of us until it became

  The end.

  The magic has left the

  Drawings finally.

  They blow around the rest—tumbleweed

  In a small western ghost town

  That sometimes hits and sometimes misses.

  That tower of lightning high over

  The Sahara Desert could have missed you,

  An experience

  Unlike any other, leaching

  Back into the lore of

  The songs and sagas,

  The warp of knowledge.

  But now it’s

  Come close

  Strict identities form it,

  Build it up like sheaves

  Of nerves, articulate,

  Defiant of itself.

  The posse had seen them

  Pass by like a caravan

  In slow motion,

  Elephants and wolves

  Painted bright colors,

  Hardly visible

  Through the cistern of shade

  Of a hand held up to the eye.

  Now that they are gone and

  To be dreamed of

  A new alertness changes

  Into the look of things

  Placed on the railing

  Of this terrace:

  The beheld with all the potential

  Of the visible, acting

  To release itself

  Into the known

  Dust under

  The sky.

  Hands where it took place

  Moving over the nebulous

  Keyboard: the heft

  Now invisible, only the fragments

  Of the echo are left

  Intruding into the color,

  How we remember them.

  How quickly the years pass

  To next year’s sun

  In the mountain family.

  All the barriers are loaded

  With fruit and flowers

  At the same time.

  The leaves stumble up to

  Intercept the light one last time

  Outnumbering the sheaves,

  Even the ants on the anthill,

  Black line leading to

  The cake of disasters,

  Leading outward to encircle the profit

  Of laughter and ending of all the tales

  In an explosion of surprise and marbled

  Opinions as the sun closes in

  Building darkness.

  In later editions you

  Were called, casual, harsh,

  Dispensing arbitrary edicts

  Under present law

  Timed and always sunk in the

  Gnat-embroiled shade.

  It was in fact a colossal

  Desert full of valleys and

  Melting canyons and soared

  Under the heaving of sighs

  Knowing it would all end

  But never end, but exist

  In the memory of itself turned to flesh

  Of ice cream and sting

  Without obliteration.

  But as I see it you

  Can only amble on, not free

  Nor on a journey, appearing

  Though at some later

  Juncture

  Of our tepid and insidious

  Greeting:

  The shock of the path

  Worn like this

  Never scaled

  Beyond a certain point

  And returning and returning

  Like a pole pointed to the sky.

  In some Greek

  Coves barely under the water

  Or barely inundated (you might say)

  A ball was found, and stated

  The body’s predilection to it:

  There is no more history you

  Seem to say no more June.

  The blue wraith that stands

  Stra
ight above each chimney: forget it!

  It is almost gone,

  Has almost departed.

  Now the dry, half-seen pods

  Are layered, and the beating

  Of an old man in some dungeon.

  No one sees how fast its processes

  Whiz, until some day

  When things are better.

  Who can elicit these possible,

  Rubbery spirals? Return of all that’s new,

  Antithesis chirping

  To antithesis: let’s climb

  The roof, look out over all

  That was so near and is:

  Vanity of the dishpan,

  The radio chortling succor to moved

  Behemoths of sense shredding

  Underwear and ulcers alike

  In a past of no mean confection:

  This wound like a small wall

  Of ceramic intent:

  It is meant to hound you

  With its brothers in the afterlight

  Of forest prisms, the brown sky sweeping

  Unusually

  Away. The cavern this time is big enough to fit in:

  The broken apse

  Wind slams through, the snail-sexton

  With rheumy specs, dung beetle bringing up the rear:

  Who could explain it?

  Who could have explained it?

  “Only pluralism ...” but we get

  Far less for our money that way.

  Aye, and fewer replies too

  To sopping prayer-strips

  Hanging like dejected plumage from that

  Rafter over the porch swing.

  They are anxious to be done with us,

  For the interview to be over, and we,

  We have just begun.

  Yet I too

  Was once captured this way.

  How it became a delight

  To think about it and when

  Pain intervened, as usual,

  The calm remained, held over

  From the other time

  And no broken trace was seen.

  Now houses have been razed

  Where once fields of vegetables

  Stood; nothing’s there

  That cannot truly be

  And was all along

  Yet never was for the seeing,

  The tasting that jabs back

  Into the past as well,

  For what is present savoring?

  Mouthing of initials, of a career?

  There is no case

  For samurai, or witches’ coattails,

  But so long as the buoyant opening

  Of a vacant career stand around healthily

  There is no need to ascertain

  The pink and red paper stratosphere

  Balloons pasted a little crazily

  Against a teetering sky

  Where color cannot have ever been.

  There was another photograph

  In that album, but not so amusing

  To remember or to describe:

  Three dark women

  On a swerving path that saucily

  Pulled the rug out from under the spectator.

  And the three expressions faded or

  Were never there to begin with, picking

  Up a little strength perhaps from the exhausted

  Eye that watched them, guardedly.

  And all it said was, we are stones

  To be like this and never to be able

  To reveal, being forward like this, but we can say

  How repellent was the adumbration

  That lodged us here, around

  Our holes, and did not

  Shove us away, but rather

  As with brave looks out to sea

  Left everything here to crumble,

  Whether new and fine, or old

  Or like us, not new nor old

  Having no share in the time-cusp

  That keeps you and they running here to imagined

  Meetings as though some sense were here

  In the fences and the privileged

  Omissions of the frolic grass.

  A close one.

  I haven’t seen him

  Since I’ve been here.

  Only an aftertaste of medicine

  And subtle pressures put

  Beyond this lattice that is

  As narrow as the visible universe.

  A whisper directs:

  How many homeless,

  Wandering, improvisatory

  As new deserts move up

  Into the constellation that was

  Only a moment ago.

  Straggling players reverse

  The indications:

  Lutes, feathers, hard

  Leather berries fall:

  The autumn in the spring

  Again with July sandwiched

  In the middle, lament

  Of all the days from the least popular

  To the most sought after, the play

  Forever turning on itself:

  Refrains, the spirit of sorrow

  Begin it; duration

  Only conjugates, the last happening

  Is seen as inadequate only after the passing

  Of much else varied stuff

  Only in being turned inside out

  Can it deny itself so that the meaning

  Pierces in any given point

  And in the texture of the sea, O

  Sky-blue-violet raiment given

  Not to be heeded

  Only as an oblique arch through which sails

  Perpendicular

  The speeding hollow bullet of these times

  Of mud and velvet, these

  Choreographed intrusions.

  Farther from far away

  No more the colored echoes ring

  On the afternoon groundswell already dissolved

  In the thousands of hastening

  Feet of birds and raindrops

  In wasted penitence sucked back

  Up to the crest again

  From which the view is fine as views go

  From low, stubby towers

  Of which there aren’t too many

  Here

  Like cash registers in a darkened store

  Even as afresh dawn approaches, before

  The winds come.

  Further on up only birches

  Grow and the red sweater

  Is for you. You breathing

  Into the angle of shadow in sunlight

  Of the frosted kiosk that was taken

  By men with tools and a surveying kit.

  That was long after

  The night out on the glacier.

  In the morning the children and kittens ran around.

  It wasn’t necessary to remind us

  Once we were seated at our desks in the school

  Under the giant tree-roots sheathed

  In moss about the quartz lightning

  Tumbling down the bed of the stream

  As on a stair. We were quick and ready

  For level plant-games in the sun

  That arrived just at noon as a horizontal line.

  The error was in the hollowed-out, weed-choked

  Afternoon and even it was only confession

  Of too many strands of vagueness, neuters

  Too independent of each other and yet

  Abashed with the other heretics like ourselves:

  Clusters of black inkberries sweeping the horizon

  And we always prepared for a fight

  Yet so innocent we have no place to go.

  The spaces between the teeth told you

  That the smile hung like an aria on the mind

  And all effort came into being

  Only to yank it away

  Came at it

  Hard as the lines of citrus planted

  In firm yet wavering rows

  All across the land to the water.

  Bells were rung

  For some members of the fam
ily only,

  These relatives like scarlet trees who infested

  The background but were not much more than

  The dust as it is seen

  In folds of the furniture,

  These were the ones who were always

  Pushing out toward the Pacific coast—what

  A time we all had of it, but all that part

  Is over, in a chapter

  That somehow has passed us by. And yet, I wonder.

  Certainly the academy has performed

  A useful function. Where else could

  Tiny flecks of plaster float almost

  Forever in innocuous sundown almost

  Fashionable as the dark probes again.

  An open beak is shadowed against the

  Small liturgical opera this time.

  It is nobody’s fault. And the academy

  Has saved it all for remembering.

  It performs another useful function:

  Pointing out the way at the beginning

  When everybody giggled nervously and

  Got lost against the peach-fuzz sky

  Where too many nice miracles were always

  Happening and the blood-colored ground

  Grasped them like straws, for a minute.

  There was a smoother, less ambiguous way

  To be determined and its banners shook like smoke

  To become an arch of the bridge

  And the bridge was acknowledged in good time

  But never to this day

  As its echo in the sky performing to meet it

  Behind invisible cataracts and cloud catafalques

  And yet, the carrion still

  Steams here, the mote

  Pursues the eye, and all is other and the same

  Of which the rite dismantles bit by bit

  The blind empathy

  Of a homeland. It emerges as a firm

  Enigma, burnished, filled in.

  Furthermore, there was nothing like

  Shadows of oranges

  In the new game, nothing fanciful

  And abstract one step away from foggy

  Reality. The series were all sisters

  Back in the fifties when more of this

  Sort of thing was allowed. Two could

  Go on at once without special permission

  And the dreams were responsible to no base

  Of authority but could wander on for

  Short distances into the amazing nearness

  That the world seemed to be. Sometimes

  We would all sing together

  And at night people would take leave of each other

  And go into their houses, singing.

  It was a time of rain and Hawaii

  And tears big as crystals. A time

  Of reading and listening to the wireless.

  We never should have parted, you and me.

  II

  Something I read once

  In some poem reminded me of it:

  The dark, wet street

  (It gets dark at seven now)

  Gleaming, ecstatic, with the thin spear

  Of faerie trumpet-calls. A lullaby

  That is an exclamation.

  It cannot be found

  As when the whole sky shifts and stays

 

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