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Wolf Tongue

Page 23

by Barry MacSweeney


  But the port-soaked Tory was dead, Tom,

  and we sang our hymns with clean hearts.

  Tom, nothing has changed except everything.

  All of these centuries and centurions.

  Tom, last night Milton & Cromwell said I should speak to you.

  Bunyan smuggled a note on ragged paper.

  Five knocks on the water pipe, I knew it was coming.

  Tom, now it’s us in the lock-up, in the spotty-face bathroom, in the lost

  toothpaste universe,

  in the argumentative wild Pearl honeysuckle wold unyielding unwielded world

  of wrong-sized slippers, in the bad dressing-gowns

  before harried relatives arrive to pull the armpits right, Tom, it’s us: the walking

  sandbaghead wounded dead of poor lost England.

  I met Cromwell & Milton & Blake yesterday and they were lost as us,

  funny stout men and one blind looking for the dreams of Albion.

  Pen-ready men with quill of swanne.

  Tom, you put your right shoe on your right foot and the left on the left.

  The laces need to be tied and in absence of your apple-pie wife I’ll do it

  because bending down with firm fingers is so difficult

  as pills plasticine your once-digitally correct hands and take the few straight

  lines in your messed-up mind

  and turn them into undriveable curves.

  Even Blind Willie Milton even Cromwell even the Memphis Flash even

  The Killer even Cash

  is on a midnight Vincent Black Shadow.

  From Huddie Ledbetter to de Kooning they’re in slave overalls.

  There’s a pride in working for a living Tom, but it isn’t for us. We’re wasted

  in wastelands before they were invented by Thomas Stearns Eliot.

  Before Sylvia Plath paid her gas bill,

  before Anne Sexton demanded blue disks from the doktor, before she

  admitted an addiction to slavery & left us to be a spirit in the rainy trees.

  Tom, King Arthur’s in his counting house, counting out the wastage,

  finalising the blame,

  And who would say it, Thomas, who would lift the gall from the cracked glass,

  but to say: Arthur, you too were a croupier of blame, you too

  swept the table clean with the other social model, Margaret of St Francis?

  Tom I do miss your wife Alice because for one reason at least

  she brought us cloudy pastry tarts filled with apples from your trees

  and sweetened by sugar from the Co-op in Langley Park

  eating moon slices before pills travelled us to sleep

  and Alice left sprightly rightly perhaps a purposeful heart searching for sunshine

  in the darkness of day. Heart a mixed posse of love and not love,

  of drawn guns and pouched bullets.

  And a hatred of the Stasi experiment doktors shared by us all.

  Tom, I want to lock the lunar lunatic’s opal horns, I want to run before

  the moon, I want to swing on my starres by Bunting, garlanded with squat,

  I want to drink endless my Castrol to stop the stile squeak.

  Tom, she’s a princess of the mosswalks, and she does not want you to leave

  her alone. And the bairns are crying for their dad, dad, lost dad, man with

  moustache & a bone in his head.

  Hard as a Birmingham spanner and right as a River Tyne rivet.

  We’re walking to the gay liberation centre, Tom, but we’re already dead.

  Taxi, Tom, heartsore, we’re a pack Tom, infesting the age, thousands of thorns,

  which may as well be pennies, someone to pay for it,

  trainers for the bairns who know you’re a photo once in the Sundays borsik in

  the madman’s paradise:

  the club, Tom, the full-sized snooker table, where you can write in big chalk and

  lay a fat man down: Tom, dear garlanded friend Tom, you’re not that strong.

  And if anyone picked on you, they’d have to peck at my fiststance darkdance first,

  burst from the feldspar heifer hoof fields.

  I am Lenz, underground my natural home. Watch me, Tom,

  bust from the cowslip shadow alone with Pearl.

  My heart and anger a double-barrelled sawn-off gun. Axe on hold whipped

  clean by the wind from Pearl’s mouth.

  When did you last see your father, Tom can you help me?

  Invisible he was forever when I was seven-years-old.

  My canvas was clean but on it he put troubled colour.

  Tom, the point is: I want that portion of him executed.

  I know these hills so rest in my shadow.

  I’ll talk to the jailer and tea at dawn will be the leastest.

  3764 Highway 51 South, Robert already having PASSED BY TO TOES

  TURNED-UP TIME.

  SURLY STEEL, BOLD STEEL, TUNNELS THROUGH ENGLAND,

  TOM YOUR MIND’S LIKE MINE: PEASE PUDDING.

  We’re Navvies Tom. Straight up. Garlanded by bows of greenwood tree

  and poem and lock-up ward and pill.

  We are singing Milton today dreaming of Jerusalem

  and the trains which never take us along the steel of the world.

  Law with the wind in my face as I mince springingly princingly

  on my wincing jade,

  bit-jaw strapped in, fist-firm, fury in my heel spur and black frock coat

  which can only bring death to the demons and the kings of frippery of England:

  Law on the horizon and law in the lonnen at Loaning Head:

  Stirrup-high I turn for the smell on the heather fellwind, still

  on my mount, still but nostril light, honey of her thighs on Irish winds

  before we gathered at night, building obelisks to Chartists

  and we stroked goodnight the muzzles of upland high-hooved horses

  because they reminded us of women lost in the dawn of the dew and dandelions

  Tom I think I’ve gone turnip tuneless toes turned up frozen out from river

  to rawness

  on the rim of the law and the world

  Tom a man came in a long black suit to saw off one of my limbs

  before anaesthetic

  Tom I pulled from my leather pouch – hole in its hiplength spout – a gun

  with hammer of the finest steel, a curved knuckle-guard you’d wish to tell

  your children about

  if you lived beyond the rapes of the government

  and Tom he didn’t get any further

  to you for example Tom because your brain’s an oversteamed cauliflower

  lolling in the Locomotive Arms

  and my lover Tom my lover the poet is not a loader of rifles

  a washer of signal cloths

  she’s a leader Tom she’s a high-stepping jade herself

  not one quick finger far from the pin

  Tom, Pearl, I’m wedded to a theory from which I shall no doubt be soon divorced

  in undainty circumstances

  that disobedience

  Disobedience, disavowal, the shredding of woofs and weaves,

  the salivating of microphones

  when all is denied, Bold steel low lot lacklevel.

  I am these men and their lost women.

  I am, spur-horsed, undenizened

  Invisible twine plying merchants are unravelling the long grasses

  and the plovering pull of the long windstrewngrasses pluck the prince

  in his chest his heart his passion and love as if no tomorrow.

  He caws, crows quietly, softly as a byre when beasts have departed

  and rain on a shifted slate is like indescribable music which is

  not music because the word is yet to be invented under the great heaven.

  Let’s wait for the very day Pearl says it whipped by rain. Beautiful Pearl.

  And
the leaves in the trees seem to whisper Louise because they’re nuts Tom.

  But I sank shaftshining in her budding cressbed. She’s as wet as a 17-year-old.

  They should be saying Michael Collins Bobby Sands and a litany a directory

  in the wind from Sligo a stooked sheaf of telegrams of the dead the foolish

  the aimless the aimed at the fallen and the framed Tom.

  But they’re not they’re frozen like my angel in the fantastic magnet filings

  of her boldly stirred heart.

  So this is where you were in the he-boat the she-boat the he-she boast-come

  together lover on the lake where the swans come in.

  This is where the matin mount of your kisses wrestled with the oar-lock movings

  for supremacy in the long mornings when the boat drifted into the reedbanks

  This is where you rowed the he-boat and swam in the clear Irish water

  and lay in his swanwings in the uncloaked unlocked dawn of padding

  across the water

  abandoned abandoned on the ferry landings of Ireland

  pipes laid by for Marie’s Wedding and She Moved Through the Fair

  this is where my heart was a black kesh by the forlorn waves of the clear water

  where the swans come

  my heart my wooing MacSwooning whistling heart love

  nothing but a black kesh in charcoal shadow on a sunless hill

  I was a monster in Munster swinging my green jealous sword and making you pay

  There were no telegrams Michael no messages Tom no letters the Royal Mail

  is dead today but a bullet in the head and an army led by Judas

  I do not believe him a good man

  Soldiers need paying but he was not a soldier for freedom

  only my heart will fight for her love and want nothing in return

  but a kiss like a flutesong a hug like a tressed harp

  a fire in her eyes and a dance in her hair

  Tom there will be applause from the gatherings for the pressing and raising of heels

  but it won’t be for us

  locked in the byre with the beasts and the winding gatepushing wind

  Tom you know there’ll be a wind from the west

  all my life I’ve been a leader and now like you it’s a lost soul department

  nothing to say Tom but this poem

  & the rare beautiful women of Doncaster beneath the High Street clock

  Tom rarely sick

  garlanded by sullen steel

  Tom in the tunnel with the dynamite mob

  and the jelly in his drainbrain

  & mine

  its gutters and flues of intelligence flowing away to a land filled with fairies

  where Tom

  rarely sick and rarely better

  threw doll from his pram

  on gallery 10

  where the screw was hanged with piano wire

  we dawdled in the bronze-leaved sullen golden sleeves of the sike paths

  threads of earth in the matin mist above the toy cathedral

  edgewater clouded with invisible natural matter the human eye will never see

  so you say for something to define it the water is clear to the bottom

  pebble gatherings clear as the tumbler base seen through gin and vodka

  brought by demons from the piggery where my heart lay in ruins

  as now it lies ruined Tom

  altogether Minister of Mayhem to Myself the great bombardier the single swanne

  for she is swooning for his harpstrum lips all the way from the ferry landings

  to the grid systems of New York and the sunsets of boulevards Tom

  we shall never know with our bed end hangdog

  broken busted barely visible beatitude

  waiting the bolt to the temple

  we’re in a byre Tom it’s true

  and the transience of love hammers us all

  and no swan call no flashing nuthatch

  no rain on the gravel or mist in the hair

  can save us from the eternal prospekt of the knacker’s yard

  red berries on the holly bushes Tom but we’ll never see Christmas

  there’ll only be wreaths

  not paid for by plastic

  we’ll never see Christmas

  except with the angels

  pulling us towards the argent arcs of starres

  elegies unwritten left for those alive below

  to argue and fuss over lost blood bones and brains

  !GOD SAVE THE

  QUEEN!

  UNCOLLECTED POEMS

  [1983/1997–1998]

  La Rage

  (for Lesley)

  Irish poets

  call it rhosin dhu

  but I call it

  la rage.

  The black rose rage

  that argibargies

  your heart.

  Magic is la rage.

  The shaman

  knows la rage.

  The throws

  of the runes

  & sticks

  & stones,

  the terrible tunes

  & the terrible truth

  of the scattered bones

  are la rage.

  The root of the word

  for lemon and bird

  and curlew and curd

  is la rage.

  When the French

  get la rage

  they sit

  sur la plage

  and watch la mer

  go spare

  with liquid

  la rage.

  Oompah oompah

  stick it up your junta

  I want to gorge

  like Billy Bunter

  because I’ve got

  la rage.

  I want to zoom across

  your harbour

  singing tora tora tora

  then send you

  bunches of love in a mist

  via interflora

  because I’ve got

  la rage.

  Chaucer calls it

  mercyless beautie

  Little Richard calls it

  tutti frutti

  Bill Haley calls it

  Rock Around the Clock

  and Elvis calls it

  Jailhouse Rock

  but to me it’s just

  la rage.

  And Shakespeare

  whose vocabulary

  is much larger

  calls it

  something else

  but the arrow flies

  like William Tell’s

  to the apple

  of your eyes

  because you have

  la rage

  That strange ancient sting

  abracadabra

  makes me want to swing

  like Errol Flynn

  from any old candlebra.

  I want to buckle

  and swash

  have a chuckle

  and talk posh

  steal Phyllis Marlowe’s

  double-breasted

  raincoat cosh

  because I’ve got

  la rage.

  I want to wipe

  pistachio

  from my ripe

  moustachio

  and tinkle

  ivories

  till dawn.

  When champagne

  flows

  we’ll go

  and go

  and draw

  the curtains

  when a star

  is born.

  When Ravi

  Shankar

  plays that

  raga

  I want to

  bathe

  in Holsten

  lager

  because I’ve got

  la rage.

  I want to ruin

  Anello & Davide shoes

  walking on peat bogs

  with you.

  Let’s put on

  our Sunday
suits

  raid the love bank

  steal the loot

  because we’ve got

  LA RAGE.

  1983

  Don’t Leave Me

  (for SJL)

  Underneath the western starres, my heart is sore

  & bruised. Soft rain on the elderflowers’ creamy upturned ladles.

  You speak at me in silence like a lightning strike.

  No bells chiming, but it is midnight of the soule.

  Don’t leave me in this empty world without you.

  Dear postmistress, kick the tilth right in my face,

  wear longingly lovely charcoal black lace, fan into

  the room like a silk torpedo, hang from the rafters

  like a bird. Imitate an irritated bat from hell. But

  please succumb to the final mad announcement:

  Don’t leave me in this lonely world without you.

  The great sunne dies, the argent moon strides

  along its Pearly path. Our hearts and minds and

  mouths fume and fix in a terrible acid bath. It

  is awesome the way we meet and fight for love.

  But fight we must – ring that bell, ring that bell.

  Once aloft in heaven’s light, now in scarlet hell.

  Don’t leave me in this lonely world without you.

  Coinage of the word trust debased beyond belief,

  all that’s left remaining is a broken whitebeam leaf.

  Unique information on the history of solar winds

  enters the busy avenues of the hive of my heart;

  O yes the kestrel’s wings are not as lonely as me:

  the argent dreamstreams, the places we undressed.

  Clouds like crowns above the merry nodding cranesbill.

  See the leadmine workings above the hill and the beck –

  O Pearl, life has its middensmitten mittens around my neck.

 

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