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Wakefulness: Poems

Page 5

by John Ashbery

One abstracted his gold hair

  picked up a cushion and said

  And how is it with you back where you are now?

  How many worms to a dozen

  How long how many of the others cheat seeing

  elbows at this windowsill serious as bunting

  on a cloudy day

  Which of the antique manners has changed?

  For as yet morning is a long way off

  Puckered mists trash the hill ecstatic as lozenges

  LIKE AMERICA

  People are buying store-dolls.

  I wonder if that’s forbidden too.

  Does it mean one isn’t to lead one’s life?

  Today, a day that makes very little sense,

  like America,

  in clear disarray

  everything’s getting worse.

  Besides, who are we not to endorse it?

  And these shattered ornaments to truth

  almost grew up to me.

  The sun and the yard

  paused over a thousand times,

  unable to explain the arch that is daylight.

  And the tribes that were before

  this panicked band announced it was quitting

  saw the crocuses too. They were purple and awful.

  It’s almost leaking to say it.

  But how much longer could I go on not missing the point?

  NEW CONSTRUCTIONS

  Boy I can remember when February

  gave out and it was all “no quarter”—the sect of the

  levellers passed over and was as night and fire

  and more peace. He returned in an hour.

  Perpetually flummoxed doorkeepers trying to kill

  the men who did the migration proceedings

  on the evening news

  were backed up all the way to the Arctic Circle.

  The aunts were out in zones

  of cozy brilliance I

  noticed with teapots to their names

  like birthing, and they could do Finland then.

  It was a kind of parenting. I notice they

  doubled our salaries. It was all over

  by 6 p.m.

  Many causes later he came

  in and hurt himself. I

  saw a lot of cherry bombs. Is this the place

  where one foregathers?

  If so, what are all the urchins doing?

  Oh she warned it’s just to the end of the block

  where knee-high tulips pucker and all is reassuring

  as they’d rather not have you believe. Does

  that clear everything up? Well I think so well I

  would like to see the proof of the invitation:

  a hand print. I’m so sorry these are inexcusable.

  I’ll dust myself up, or off;

  meanwhile in the clearing they are pouring something.

  Do you think you could be kind to come in

  and matter where the horse esteems mechanized shortcuts?

  Say rather he came in and hurt himself,

  and now the bagpipers have nothing left to mourn,

  the day just wheezes and goes down a funnel

  counterclockwise. It was all just a fit

  to have made you start bolt upright

  on the steppe terns parted from

  with little glovelike cries

  awaiting the refrigerator that was to have us all

  on its digital menu.

  Wait, there are extenuating circumstances

  and I myself am just a bum;

  whatever came in with the weather

  and dematerialized in the corners of the room, just so

  am I to myself and others around.

  But how do you justify

  the crank silhouetted against the sky?

  That’s just it, I don’t; it is all leftovers

  and why am I crying

  when the boats pass

  in the narrow ship channel

  with corduroy undies for all the years

  I took off from Mrs. Bacon’s

  and the way they came flooding back at me

  like complaints in a gyroscope

  or an armillary of vexations.

  Then she proposed take this needle

  and thread it for the two

  messages you have missed.

  I’ll not start another reptile war;

  I look to the end of the komodo dragons thundering overhead.

  Otherwise I sleep under the eaves; the cabbages

  keep me company at evening, and are all

  the society anyone wants. And Yes,

  I keep up the sewing, the round robin

  of Lettergate wherever a spare postal employer

  taxes us with unlived puns: There

  do we stop and pitch camp,

  and I’ll tell you it’s not going to get easier,

  only harder.

  With that they

  took off, just a bundle

  of stems to make a totem with.

  I sit on the site over and over,

  let it absorb hard doing,

  piecemeal reconciliations, laundry

  marks rubbed out in the wash, seasonal

  hares and conviviality and the rest,

  the rest.

  WHITEOUT

  More and more obviously, the trainer won’t handle things

  his way, or ours—beats me how cute everything used to be.

  We stood poised in a circle, and

  some note of admiration bloomed and faded.

  The cow was coming to ask our forgiveness

  for the blue flax. Then everybody segued into a canon,

  more ships were lost, more men at sea, the carload of opals

  bringing bad luck from Anatolia. And in a wash,

  it was gone. No more having to pick up one’s room,

  one’s socks.

  Luckily there is an umpire who sees that

  behavior is coded, that it all shakes down into the mesh

  where the train never minded, that there is still fun out on the horizon.

  The blues—did we mention that?

  And the energy that was coming to unsex all but the lifeless on Mars,

  the initiated, grasping at handlebars.

  A FRENCH STAMP

  Of handedness and the Brothers Handedness,

  too often that tale had been told by Yore,

  fifth-century scribe. He liked inking in details.

  If one is a cigarette lighter

  that’s lonely, which is lonely. Or a tricycle

  coasting in gales, there is a secret satisfaction

  fins emulate. Here, keep my scalp,

  I’m seeing a pattern here, divestiture of some knave.

  It was likely to be our last onus, this plaid scarecrow

  out of a Braille encyclopedia. Hurry with the milk,

  be here. Fortune placed tots in escrow. Good to monitor ’em,

  go with the feed. In Manhattan merely

  two minutes to two, moonlit torso returns. Sheesh.

  Some abbey’s got him. Let Fido lick

  last year’s olive branch. I’m outta here.

  I told you, no way, it’s dorsal.

  ONE MAN’S POEM

  John came into town at night

  and the clock was striking.

  The damn boat leaked. Well, I …

  It was pretty unusual.

  Never mind, hand me that eyesore.

  He came to see a tailor.

  More about it I do not know

  out on the canal.

  The twins schlepped raisins and plums,

  my dogbeat, for as far as we forgotten

  come together to make sense

  by midnight’s shattered drum.

  There was more walking around and talking.

  Then all got into a car and drove away.

  Its tail was silver red, and a

  banjo stood on end in the car.

  The waves of freshman and sophomore g
rief

  slide by me somehow.

  We are old and dated

  and cannot of our lives make any sense.

  It was in the way he put it to me,

  muddied or on a rock

  at the center of a field puts us to shame.

  There is more than the spirit jabs,

  under the little hollow birds creep

  and are asked forgiveness. Some are afraid

  that they will fly away.

  By morning all is shot to hell.

  THE PATHETIC FALLACY

  A cautionary mister,

  The thaumaturge poked holes in my trope.

  I said what are you doing that for.

  His theorem wasn’t too complicated,

  just complicated enough. In brief,

  this was it. The governor should peel

  no more shadow apples, and about teatime

  it was as if the lemon of Descartes

  had risen to full prominence on the opulent skyline.

  There were children in drawers, and others trying to shovel them out.

  In a word, shopping had never been so tenuous,

  but it seems we had let the cat out of the bag, in spurts.

  Often, from that balcony

  I’d interrogate the jutting profile of night

  for what few psalms or coins it might

  in other circumstances have been tempted to shower down

  on the feeble heathen oppressor, and my wife.

  Always you get the same bedizened answer back.

  It was like something else, or it wasn’t,

  and if it wasn’t going to be as much, why,

  it might as well be less, for all anyone’d care.

  And the ditches brought it home dramatically

  to the horizon, socked the airport in.

  We, we are only mad clouds,

  a dauphin’s reach from civilization,

  with its perfumed citadels, its quotas. What did that

  mean you were going to do to me?

  Why, in another land and time we’d be situated, separate

  from each other and the ooze of life. But here, within

  the palisade of brambles it only comes often enough to what

  can be sloughed off quickly, with the least amount of fuss.

  For the ebony cage claims its constituents

  as all were going away, thankful the affair had ended.

  FROM OLD NOTEBOOKS

  As rain cobbles itself

  together, puts an expectant face

  on things, we lived those

  greasy times. Sordid

  with excess rapture, blue

  as a cow’s face. We came out of it pretty well

  at the end.

  Worth looking up, these tepid old

  things

  could still jiggle

  a thug’s arms, thrum the upholstery’s

  lilacs. Warehouses make like

  marauding castles in the heat, I am always steep

  when being remembered.

  Ash on a coed’s face,

  this barren step planted in Thieves’ Row, more where

  your mother muddled all things. And if it be not,

  where is its funnel—pass the luster,

  please, something’s abiding: love-in-a-storm,

  it says.

  MANY COLORS

  There is a chastening to it,

  a hymnlike hemline.

  Hyperbole in another disguise.

  Dainty foresters walk through it.

  On the splashed polyester walls

  a tooth fairy held court. And that was like mud gravy,

  a sop to the reigning idées reçues.

  It’s all too—

  charming.

  It makes you want to scream

  and hug your neighbor like he was your best friend.

  I’m over my head with it.

  Suddenly there was a travelling salesman with balls,

  like an ant on V-J day.

  And easing through the night we felt scoops

  of clay like tired ice cream.

  Here, here’s your vigil. Now get it out of here. One of us—

  Gus the plumber—is entranced.

  Of course you could let them come to you

  as if you’d asked, and don’t blame it on me

  when they get silted up to the snow line.

  A master craftsman is coming to stay with you, to save you.

  Yes and my horse knew all about this

  but wasn’t letting on

  until the time you and I got over the fix on his importance he had,

  only to discover another’s hip-huggers in the brown dust

  under the mailbox.

  And we all came quietly.

  In what axis I’ve heard you ringing—

  there is no time to do that.

  This is no time to do that.

  The passion police are on your case

  and we’ll get back to picking winners anon, at eventide, asunder.

  Go blow. Tremble. Decipher. Mix and match.

  Maybe. We’ll see.

  AUTUMN IN THE LONG AVENUE

  I see and hear the wind.

  It is unreceived. Clouds flee backwards.

  I think myself into a stupor.

  Once upon a time everybody was here.

  Then the pellets started to go.

  They move and move little,

  like my brother or childhood,

  or a little schoolhouse

  near the zoo, boarded up with directions

  to some other telltale structure, crusted

  with scaffolding like frosting on winter’s cake,

  to tell you, go through, go through now,

  die and formally die.

  Yet autumn stays sequestered

  and likes it. In that period

  some people still came to visit, with nothing

  on their minds, no reason, not even liking you.

  A lot of autos stormed the site

  of the one pine’s expiration, breathing, asking

  for you. Some said you had gone,

  but you were hiding under the porch, stung

  with remorse. Now this person

  comes and says have you seen the shed,

  it gives me goose bumps, and I, stuck as always on

  which word should be the first, but comes out

  in no particular order, volunteer my notes on the

  time we sat with woodpeckers on the

  various counterpane and had a swig—

  when you were, I mean, on the fence,

  just inside, talking the way people in dreams

  talk to those who are awake, subverting the last

  ditch of defense in time for what

  takes it away …

  The light of late afternoon

  chiseled the sea and barracks, but who

  was keeping count? There were more tourists

  than usual that day, the town seemed to run away from them

  as we approached them, wondering what was wrong, what was the matter

  with the bland corpses they had come to see name

  something we ourselves couldn’t see for being in it

  as mute pedestrians moved to adjourn it.

  I’ve seen it before, I’ve seen it in the street:

  These various resolutions fade in and out,

  plaiting a track on the texture of day,

  a legacy of distant effort, wispy

  and traditional, like dads and moms coming off

  the assembly line. But they never get that right.

  I just said goodbye.

  SNOW

  As a fish spoils

  in a time of truce, so these galoshes go

  hopping over sidewalk and snowbank, not really knowing

  to whose destiny we are being summoned

  or what happens after that.

  As time spoils,

  it may have known what it was do
ing

  but decided not to do anything about it, so everything is lost,

  wrapped in a landfill. It could be caviar

  or the New York Daily News.

  After all, I come next,

  he said, am a cruel object like all the torsos

  you unbuttoned all over your previous life, scant in comparison

  to this one, and I said, go ahead and quit clowning

  if you like that game, but

  leave me beside myself,

  like a kid next to a lamppost. Okay, what gain

  in not replying? What capitalist system do you think this is? Surely

  it’s late capitalism, by which I mean not to go

  yet and peace undermines

  the uproar we all made

  about it, and you are positively put on hold

  again. I like the mouse in this turmoil, not exactly purring

  adroitly, not seeming to conjugate the

  avalanche of fear.

  Now when Norsemen

  (or some substitute) tumble out of the north, sifting

  down over our busy, shuttered, dignified street with hints of the Azores,

  there’s no untangling the knots we put there before

  and paused to identify

  as the four winds rushed

  in and purified the place of partnerships,

  fanning overhead, a-bristle with doodads, chafing at every chime

  from every earnest steeple, coughing too much.

  The little guy was

  impatient, was serious,

  every time a blow fell adjured another conspirator,

  and so, when it got quite dark we became an outing, another

  quilting-bee disaster. And if it tried too far

  there was always salt to rub

  in wounds to be licked.

  WITHIN THE HOUR

  The tea is too hot.

  The curtain in the window blew around

  Rind rotting on brown chairs.

  In the valley of bartenders the one-eyed stooge is king.

  What I’m doing now is write.

  That’s the real stuff.

  It doesn’t work!

  I got a card from him yesterday I could ask Dick.

  What is the fresh approach?

  Your mini body coming unto me, unshelled

  as peace pavanes no one undertakes,

  not without a woofing in the chest-o-ciser,

  two strokes and it’s gone.

  You owed the fresh kind.

  Why yes. Remember

  me? Remember me

  in any case.

  THE DONG WITH THE LUMINOUS NOSE

 

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