Book Read Free

As We Know

Page 13

by John Ashbery


  As tightly as umbrellas. What difference?

  The orange shine stood off, just far enough away

  Not to catch the commas and puns as you spoke

  This time in defense of riders of the squall,

  Of open-faced daring, not just to the empty seas

  But for the people swathed in oilcloth on the beach.

  “It is no great matter to take this in hand, convince

  The tips of the trees they were rubbing against each other

  All along. Each contrives to slip into his own hall of fame

  And my common touch has triumphed. The doorpost shall turn again and again.”

  Variations on an Original Theme

  Our humblest destinies amount to this:

  A maze of leaves, and one who sat

  Within them dreaming of plants and their syrups

  (Because of the yellow rings and zigzags

  Visited on the moss-grown turret walls)

  And a hare running far away, in the blond night.

  And to dream of having sex with my beloved

  Brings the figured wall no closer:

  A fleet of pleasure boats and shadow

  Dipping over them, lost

  To the righteous eye brooding expensively

  On tomorrow’s fabric, how it overflows

  Where there are no kick-pleats, and thins,

  And what is wasted comes back anyway.

  A ride in common variety

  Was all it ever got to be; there are no friends

  To make it serve. Only sometimes, a promised

  Stranger makes us see it in another light

  As though we have been standing here always,

  Lake to the right, and the house, a Manichaean

  Presence between the two widely spaced trees

  On the backed-up, rusted gold of the grass.

  And setting out in the punt on a larger

  Stream and returning just in time

  For the oracle, these things had not yet

  Begun to dream, and there was thus no questioning

  Of them yet. What was one day to be

  Removed itself as far as possible from scrutiny.

  We got down to the business of preparing

  For the night only to find it prepared

  For us as a bride, a flag rolled in the darkness,

  Now no longer comfort, a spirit only.

  Homesickness

  The deep water in the travel poster finds me

  In the change as I was about to back away

  From the idea of the comedy around us—

  In the chairs. And you too knew how to do the job

  Just right. Trumpets in the afternoon

  And you first get down to business and

  The barges disappear, one by one, up the river.

  One of them must be saved for a pirate. But no,

  The park continues. There is no space between the leaves.

  Once when there was more furniture

  It seemed we moved more freely not noticing things

  Or ourselves: our relationships were wholly articulate

  And direct. Now the air between them has thinned

  So that breathing becomes a pleasure, an unconscious act.

  Then when you had finished talking about the trip

  You had planned, and how many days you were to be away

  I was looking into the night forests as I held

  The receiver to my ear, replying correctly

  As I always do, to everything, having become the sleeper in you.

  It no longer mattered that I didn’t want you to go away,

  That I wanted you to return as quickly as possible

  To my house, not yours this time, except

  This house is yours when we sleep in it.

  And you will be chastised and purified

  Once we are both inside the world’s lean-to.

  Our words will rise like cigarette smoke, straight to the stars.

  This Configuration

  This movie deals with the epidemic of the way we live now.

  What an inane cardplayer. And the age may support it.

  Each time the rumble of the age

  Is an anthill in the distance.

  As he slides the first rumpled card

  Out of his dirty ruffled shirtfront the cartoon

  Of the new age has begun its ascent

  Around all of us like a gauze spiral staircase in which

  Some stars have been imbedded.

  It is the modern trumpets

  Who decide the mood or tenor of this cross-section:

  Of the people who get up in the morning,

  Still half-asleep. That they shouldn’t have fun.

  But something scary will come

  To get them anyway. You might as well linger

  On verandas, enjoying life, knowing

  The end is essentially unpredictable.

  It might be soldiers

  Marching all day, millions of them

  Past this spot, like the lozenge pattern

  Of these walls, like, finally, a kind of sleep.

  Or it may be that we are ordinary people

  With not unreasonable desires which we can satisfy

  From time to time without causing cataclysms

  That keep getting louder and more forceful instead of dying away.

  Or it may be that we and the other people

  Confused with us on the sidewalk have entered

  A moment of seeming to be natural, expected,

  And we see ourselves at the moment we see them:

  Figures of an afternoon, of a century they extended.

  Metamorphosis

  The long project, its candling arm

  Come over, shrinks into still-disparate darkness,

  Its pleasaunce an urn. And for what term

  Should I elect you, O marauding beast of

  Self-consciousness? When it is you,

  Around the clock, I stand next to and consult?

  You without a breather? Testimonials

  To its not enduring crispness notwithstanding,

  You can take that out. It needs to be shaken in the light.

  To be delivered again to its shining arm—

  O farewell grief and welcome joy! Gosh! So

  Unexpected too, with much else. Yet stay,

  Say how we are to be delivered from the fair content

  If all is in accord with the morning—no prisms out of order—

  And the nutty context isn’t just there on a page

  But rolling toward you like a pig just over

  The barges and light they conflict with against

  The sweep of low-lying, cattle-sheared hills,

  Our plight in progress. We can’t stand the crevasses

  In between sections of feeling, but knowing

  They come once more is a blessed decoction—

  Is their recessed cry.

  The penchant for growing and giving

  Has left us bereft, and intrigued, for behind the screen

  Of whatever vanity he chose to skate on, it was

  Us and our vigilance who outlined the act for us.

  We were perhaps afraid, and less purposefully benevolent

  Because the chair was placed outside, the chair

  No one would come to sit in, except the storm,

  If it ever came. No shame, meanwhile,

  To sit in the hammock, or wherever straw was

  To see it and acclaim the differences as they were born.

  And we were drunk as flowers

  That should someday be, or could be,

  We weren’t keeping track, but just then

  It all turned the corner into a tiny want ad:

  Someone with something to sell someone

  And the stitches ceased to make sense.

  They climb now, gravely, with each day’s decline

  Farther into the unmapped sky over the sunset

 
And prolong it indelicately. With maps and whips

  You came eagerly, we were obedient, and then, just then

  The real big dark business got abated, and I

  Awoke stretched out on a ladder lying on the cold ground,

  Too upset and confused to imagine how you

  Had built the colossal staircase in my flesh that armies

  Were using now, their command a curse

  As all my living swept by, the flags curved with stars.

  Their Day

  Each act of criticism is general

  But, in cutting itself off from all the others,

  Explicit enough.

  We know how the criticism must be done

  On a specific day of the week. Too much matters

  About this day. Another day, and the criticism is thrown down

  Like trash into a dim, dusty courtyard.

  It will be built again. That’s all the point

  There is to it. And it is built,

  In sunlight, this time. All look up to it.

  It has changed. It is different. It is still

  Cut off from all the other acts of criticism.

  From this it draws a tragic strength. Its greatness.

  They are constructing pleasure simultaneously

  In an adjacent chamber

  That occupies the same cube of space as the critic’s study.

  For this to be pleasure, it must also be called criticism.

  It is the very expensive kind

  That comes sealed in a bottle. It is music of the second night

  That winds up as if to say: Well, you’ve had it,

  And in doing so, you have it.

  From these boxed perimeters

  We issue forth irregularly. Sometimes in fear,

  But mostly with no knowledge of knowing, only a general

  But selective feeling that the world had to go on being good to us.

  As long as we don’t know that

  We can live at the square corners of the streets.

  The winter does what it can for its children.

  A Tone Poem

  It is no longer night. But there is a sameness

  Of intention, all the same, in the ways

  We address it, rude

  Color of what an amazing world,

  As it goes flat, or rubs off, and this

  Is a marvel, we think, and are careful not to go past it.

  But it is the same thing we are all seeing,

  Our world. Go after it,

  Go get it boy, says the man holding the stick.

  Eat, says the hunger, and we plunge blindly in again,

  Into the chamber behind the thought.

  We can hear it, even think it, but can’t get disentangled from our brains.

  Here, I am holding the winning ticket. Over here.

  But it is all the same color again, as though the climate

  Dyed everything the same color. It’s more practical,

  Yet the landscape, those billboards, age as rapidly as before.

  The Other Cindy

  A breeze came to the aid of that wilted day

  Where we sat about fuming at projects

  With the funds running out, and others

  Too simple and unheard-of to create pressure that moment,

  Though it was one of these, lurking in the off-guard

  Secrecy of a mind like a magazine article, that kept

  Proposing, slicing, disposing, a truant idea even

  In that kingdom of the blind, that finally would have

  Reined in the mad hunt, quietly, and kept us there,

  Thinking, not especially dozing any more, until

  The truth had revealed itself the way a natural-gas

  Storage tank becomes very well known sometime after

  Dawn has slipped in

  And seems to have been visible all along

  Like a canoe route across the great lake on whose shore

  One is left trapped, grumbling not so much at bad luck as

  Because only this one side of experience is ever revealed.

  And that meant something.

  Sure, there was more to it

  And the haunted houses in those valleys wanted to congratulate

  You on your immobility. Too often the adventurous acolyte

  Drops permanently from sight in this beautiful country.

  There is much to be said in favor of the danger of warding off danger

  But if you ever want to return

  Though it seems improbable on the face of it

  You must master the huge retards and have faith in the slow

  Blossoming of haystacks, stairways, walls of convolvulus,

  Until the moon can do no more. Exhausted,

  You get out of bed. Your project is completed

  Though the experiment is a mess. Return the kit

  In the smashed cardboard box to the bright, bland

  Cities that gave rise to you, you know

  The one with the big Woolworth’s and postcard-blue sky.

  The contest ends at midnight tonight

  But you can submit again, and again.

  No, But I Seen One You Know You Don’t Own

  Only sometimes is the seam in the way

  Of space broken and three schedules cross:

  The seasonable cold raging to be pliant and tit

  Of gold.

  He walks backward on the conveyor belt

  As the blue powder of the day is dismissed

  And he might pull the switch that would release

  The immobile Niagaras that hover in the background.

  There is no need, finally,

  To inspissate the corded torsades

  Of his loon voice. The dragees arrive in fumes:

  The reprisal spinning through the air

  Like an incandescent boomerang

  As small flowers spring up at the feet

  Of the near beasts, and in the distance

  The hills are shrouded like shoulders

  Behind the definitive errand of this glance.

  The Shower

  The water began to fall quite quickly

  Just wanting to be friendly.

  It’s too macho, and the sides and the plains get worse.

  What are you writing?

  Thus incurring a note for the milkman

  City unit buses pass through. A laborer

  Dragging luggage after cashing the king and ace of

  It sifted slowly along the map, trying the lips,

  The defender’s last trick.

  Somewhere in the grotto it festered,

  The summer was cast in a circle. Knots

  There were to see, knot by knot

  But almost as much as is your punishment again.

  By ruffing the third club defender would be

  Just a fat man in sunglasses

  That knots caress, moving

  Through shine—the uncle in the mirror—

  As it is beginning again these are the proportions.

  Instead the place,

  Where we had been before, got tangled

  Within us, forced

  To break out so that no one knew

  The stalks from the knot of pleasure

  And it would be determined to happen again—

  Said this, through rain and the shine

  That comes after, so many opinions

  And words later, so many dried tears

  Loitering at the sun’s school shade.

  Landscapeople

  Long desired, the journey is begun. The suppliants

  Climb aboard the damaged carrousel:

  Some have been hacked to death, one has learned

  Some new thing, and all are touched

  With the same blight, like a snowfall

  Of moments as they are read back to the monitor

  Which only projects.

  Some can decipher it,

  The outline of an eddy that traced itself
/>
  Before moving on, yet its place had to be,

  Such was the appetite of those times. A ring

  Of places existed around the central one,

  And of course these died away eventually.

  Everything has turned out for the best,

  The “eggs of the sun” have been returned anonymously,

  And the new ways are as simple as the old ones,

  Only more firmly anchored to the spectacle

  Of the madness of the seasons as it unfolds

  With iron-clad rigidity, filling the sky with light.

  We began in an anonymous sensuality

  And lived most of it out before the difference

  Of time got in the way, filling up the margins of the days

  With pictures of fruit, light, colors, music, and vines,

  Until it ceases to be a problem.

  The Sun

  The watermark said it was alone with us,

  “To do your keeping and comparing.” But there were bushes

  On the horizon shaped like hearts, spades, clubs and diamonds.

  They were considered

  To belong to a second class, to which lower standards

  Were applied, as called for in the original rule,

  And these standards were now bent inward to become

  The invariable law, to which exceptions

  Were sometimes apposite, and they liked the new clime,

  So bracing here on the indigo slopes

  To which families of fathers and daughters have come

  Summer after summer, decade after decade, and it never stops

  Being refreshing. It is a sign of maturity,

  This stationary innocence, and a proof

  Of our slow, millennial growth, ring after ring

  Just inside the bark. Yet we get along well without it.

  Water boils more slowly, and then faster

  At these altitudes, and slowness need never be something

  To criticize, for it has an investment in its own weight,

  Rare bird. We know we can never be anything but parallel

  And proximate in our relations, but we are linked up

  Anyway in the sun’s equation, the house from which

  It steals forth on occasion, pretending, isn’t

  It funny, to pass unnoticed, until the deeply shelving

  Darker pastures project their own reflection

  And are caught in history,

  Transfixed, like caves against the sky

  Or rotting spars sketched in phosphorus, for what we did.

 

‹ Prev