The Changing Light at Sandover
Page 36
Should it be set down on the page as prose?
NOTHING STRICT A CADENCE BREAKING THRU
ALWAYS FLEXIBLE (To illustrate,
The cup does an impromptu figure eight)
& UNEXPECTED
Lights, an innocent blue.
Mich.
WE ARE UNEXPECTED?
JM.
Never, Lord. The Senior Scribe and I
Have been discussing, how best to convey
To readers the full verve of what you say,
There are a few effects I mean to try.
Would the like you unmeasurable King
James inflections be perhaps the thing?
Mich.
HEAR HIM BROTHERS! IS THAT NOT THE DEAREST OF OUR FATHER’S HOPES?
MAN USING HIS MOST DELICATE MACHINE, MINING LEAD & PRODUCING QUICKSILVER?
AH THE MACHINE, SENIOR POET, THE MACHINE, YOUNG SCRIBE, THE MACHINE OF THE MIND DRIVEN BY WORDS TO MINE MEANING:
MAKE SENSE OF IT
DJ.
Does that phrase ring a bell? The school-bell rings.
The First Lessons: 7
Mich.
OUR FATHER LIFTED THE CURSE OF IMMORTALITY FROM HIS NEW CREATURE AND SAID:
‘SON MICHAEL, SHEDDER OF LIGHT, REFLECTOR, NOW HELP MAN FORGET’
AND SO MY THIRD NATURE: SLEEP, THE REPOSE FROM DAYLIGHT TO DAYLIGHT.
MAN’S SPACE ON EARTH LIES LARGELY WITHIN PATHS WHERE SUN & LACK OF SUN EQUATE HIS HOURS.
JUST SO HIS LIFESPAN: THE VITAL YEARS, THE MIDDAY YEARS, ARE BALANCED BY YEARS OF CARE AS CHILD & OF REST AS AGED.
AND SO ANOTHER SET OF TWINS, GABRIEL & I, DIVIDE REPOSE: I THE LIVING, SLEEPING, DREAMING
Gabr.
AND I THE REPOSE BETWEEN LIVES. MY FATHER SAID:
‘GABRIEL, SEPARATOR, JUDGE, THINKER ON IDEAS, RESTLESS URGER-ON OF MAN’S MIND,
GIVE MY POOR CHILDREN SUCH A SLEEP THAT, WAKING TO THE LIGHT OF A NEW LIFE, THEY FORGET ITS TOLL & RUSH OUT EAGERLY’
Emm.
AND THE WATER BURSTS IN THE WOMB, & DOWN GLIDES GOD’S DARLING.
THEN GOD SAID: ‘TWIN ELIAS, EMMANUEL, YOU THE CALM ONE, GIVE MY CHILD BALM FOR SORROW’
& SO THROUGHOUT MAN’S FAREWELLS TO LIFE MY TEARS BATHE THE CLENCHED FACE, FLOW & ASSUAGE.
Raph.
THEN MY TURN CAME. ‘O WITTY TWIN (SAID GOD) TAKE BACK YOUR PIECE OF CLAY’
DUST TO DUST? NO! LIVING TISSUE & MINERALS, STORED IN MAN SINCE HIS CLIMB FROM YOUR OOZY FLOOR, EMMANUEL, THERE BELOW THE SALT.
THESE ELEMENTS I FOLDED ONCE AGAIN IN MY ARMS. MY TREES WHISPERED:
SLEEP, CHILD, UNTIL AGAIN YOU COME TO ME, KING OF ALL LIVING THINGS AND LORD OF THE GREENHOUSE, SLEEP.
Mich.
SO OUR TWELVE NATURES, SUBLIME & COMMON:
EARTH, AIR, WATER, FIRE, IN VARIED CONSORT MAKING SIX PAIRS OF TWINS, SET IN YOUR FOUR SEASONS
Music. Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’ plays
Gently through Michael’s closing words of praise.
O GREEN SPRING EARTH, O WITTY WITH HOPE!
O BLUE CALM CLEANSING, MUSICAL & RHYTHMIC WATER!
O LIGHT, IDEAS YELLOWING TO HAZE,
ASWARM WITH GNATLIKE SELVES ARE YOU THROUGH AUTUMN DAYS!
AND YOU, RED SOLEMN THOUGHT, O DECIMATOR,
CHAOS FROZEN INTO ORDER, WINTER!
But Light from elsewhere lifts the harmony
To a remote, electrifying key:
AH MY FOUR SONS
Mich.
O FATHER!
IN OUR SEVENTH HEAVEN YOU GRACE US, WE BOW WITH LOVE!
FATHER, HAVE WE TOLD THEM WELL?
YOU HAVE TOLD THEM THE TWELFTH OF IT THEY TAKE YOU IN
The cup like an eager dog behind a hedge
He cannot overleap
Races back, forth, along the Board’s far edge:
His Master lost by now in bright
Unthinkables, all pinpoint-far, dream-deep
Foresight.
Then Michael’s voice through swarming, rainbow mist:
GRACED ARE WE, YET HAVE FAR MORE TO SAY
AND MANY A TRUTH FOR ANOTHER DAY
—Leaving us stunned. What happened, anyway?
God Himself grazed our poem in a gust
Of wonder? Yes, and something like distrust.
Not of Him, not of Biology…
But, after all, we bookish people live
In bondage to those reigning narrative
Conventions whereby the past two or three
Hundred years have seen a superhuman
All-shaping Father dwindle (as in Newman)
To ghostly, disputable Essence or
Some shaggy-browed, morality-play bore
(As in the Prologue to Faust). Today the line
Drawn is esthetic. One allows divine
Discourse, if at all, in paraphrase.
Why should God speak? How humdrum what he says
Next to His word: out of a black sleeve, lo!
Sun, Earth and Stars in eloquent dumb show.
Our human words are weakest, I would urge,
When He resorts to them. Here on the verge
Of these objections, one does well to keep
One’s mouth shut—Wystan, don’t you think? WE WEEP
*
A dreadful interval. Last night’s collision,
Heading home, with a wool-gathering creep.
No one hurt, but ugly psychic dents.
Words D and I exchange about expense
Turn our green mountain to a black plateau
Still smouldering the next afternoon. ENFANTS
QUICK WHILE OUR STAR PUPIL PRIMPS IN THE DORM:
MAMAN HAS BEEN SO LONG A LONER THAT
SHE CAN’T RECALL THE IDLE HOUSEHOLD SPAT
BUT WE NEED CALM & LAST NIGHT’S LITTLE SCENE
UNDID YR OLD BLACK MAMMY
O I MEAN
SHE’S TAKEN THE FRONT SEAT OUR TEACHER’S PET
RUSHED IN AHEAD OF ME & TOOK MY SEAT!
All smiles, our discord laughable, DJ:
No little scenes up there, please! Tell us, er,
About, ah— SHALL WE SAY THE MINISTER
OF EDUCATION? YES: A RADIANCE
THEY TURNED THEIR BACKS ON US & SPOKE INTO,
SNUFFING OUT (AS MM SAID) THEIR SMOKES
LIKE SO MANY VILLAGE DANDIES WHEN PAPA
ENTERS THE ROOM I felt they’d been caught boasting!
AH THEY WERE SIMPLY COWED & NOT WITH FEAR,
WITH WHAT WD BE TO LOVE (AS WE KNOW LOVE)
WHAT LOVE IS TO AFFECTION Did you hear
A voice? THE MUSIC SWELLED WE SAW U WRITE
THE WORDS & A PURE GLOW ON OUR DEAR HAND
Slowly, as he goes on, the full amazement
Seizes us. Reliving yesterday’s
Lesson, we are humming “Winter” when
The First Lessons: 8
Michael and his Brothers quietly enter.
Mich.
IT IS ALL APPROVED & WE PROCEED. I AM MY FATHER’S SON MICHAEL.
WE KNOW THAT EACH LIVING CREATURE LIVES BY SENSES, SOME FEWER, BUT THE HIGHER FORMS HAVE FIVE.
WE HAVE BROUGHT YOU OUR SCOUTS, THE IMMORTAL FIVE. THEY REPORT TO MY BROTHERS & ME THEIR FINDINGS
WHICH, WHEN APPROVED & MADE SENSE OF, THESE GENIUS 5 PROCEED WITH.
NOW WE, MY BROTHERS & I, ARE THE SENSES OF OUR FATHER. RAPHAEL?
Raph.
I AM GOD’S HEARING ON EARTH. I HEAR THE FEET, THE MOVEMENTS OF HIS CREATURES, THE SLITH
ER, THE STAMPEDE.
I SENSE THE BUILDERS OVER BUILDERS. SHAKE! SAYS MY FATHER, AND I DO.
I HEAR THE CRIES OF TREES CUT, TOO MANY. I HEAR THE LESSENING OF A BREED.
I LISTEN, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.
Mich.
HIS TWIN?
Emm.
I TOUCHING EARTH, CIRCLING IT, PATTING ITS SHORES,
RACING WITH NEWS OF THE AVALANCHE, WITHDRAWING WHEN IN DESERT LANDS WE MUST GUARD SPACE FOR MAN’S FUTURE FIELDS,
I COVER THE WHOLE BALL, REFLECTIVE PALMS UPWARD, FEELING THE ATMOSPHERE.
I TOUCH, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.
Gabr.
MY TWIN DUTIES, I THE SELECTOR, ARE TASTE & SMELL.
I CATCH WHIFFS OF DANGER, AND TASTE THE BITTER & THE SWEET.
I AM THE COOK OF THE SMOKING STEW OF MANKIND: LESS HERE OF THIS, MORE OF THAT.
I PILE THESE FINDINGS ON A TRAY, MAKE SENSE OF THEM, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.
Mich.
AND HE, O SHY BROTHER, HOW OFTEN: ‘IT IS NOT DONE’?
The schoolroom glowers, but the irresistible
Light of day resumes. As Michael does:
AND I? I READ, DEAR EMMANUEL, YOUR PALMS, AND I SEARCH & I SEE, AND HAVE A VAST SURFACE TO EXPLORE EACH DAY.
I MAKE A THEORY OF LIGHT IN THE BRIGHTNESS OF EXPLOSION, AND CHECK TO SEE IF YET THE FEATHERS OF ITS WING CAN SUPPORT THE PIGEON IN MY AIR.
I LOOK, I READ, MAKE SENSE OF IT, AND REPORT TO MY FATHER.
JM.
And God? He takes them in, these capsules made
Of the whole vast ongoing escalade?
Mich.
AND THEN, YOUNG SCRIBE, THE GREAT SENSES OF OUR FATHER BEGIN.
FOR HE WHO HAS ALL THESE FIVE HAS A SIXTH: INTUITION,
A SEVENTH: JUDGEMENT (WHICH, O GLORY, HE DEMONSTRATED YESTERDAY)
AN EIGHTH: COMMAND, & A NINTH: PRONOUNCEMENT,
AND THEN THE ZEROETH WE DO NOT KNOW
FOR THIS HE EXERCISES OUTWARD. YES, TURNING OUTWARD HIS MULTIPLE ATTENTION FORTIFIED BY THE GREAT ORCHESTRA OF THE SENSES,
OUR FATHER SINGS,
SINGS, ALONE, INTO THE UNIVERSE.
Pauses as if hearkening. No sound.
LISTEN! FOR YOU 4 WILL HEAR THAT SONG: YOUR TENTH LESSON (ON THE 9TH WILL BE A JOYOUS CONGRESS OF THE SENSES)
AND THEN OUR FIRST OF THREE SCHOOL TERMS WILL END.
DJ.
Already? It seems only yesterday…
Mich.
NOW THIS 8TH HEAVEN OF COMMAND PERMITS YOUR MICHAEL TO, LET US NOT SAY ORDER, RATHER GIVE AN OUTLINE OF OUR V WORK AHEAD:
YOU WILL ASSEMBLE IN A MOON MONTH AFTER THESE TEN LESSONS. THEN WE MAKE SENSE OF THEM FOR FIVE LESSONS MORE.
THEN MY SHY BROTHER TAKING THE FRONT DESK (PERMETTEZ MADAME?) WILL GIVE US HIS TEXT TO BALANCE MINE,
FOR WILL WE NOT HAVE INNOCENTLY EXPOSED OURSELVES TO IDEAS?
AND HAVE WE NOT AS OUR FATHER COMMANDS, SURVIVED?
SO NEXT WE DON THE GLAD ARRAY
OF ALL OUR SENSES TO MEET THE DAY.
Exeunt.
WHA.
ENTRE NOUS MY DEAR HE’S NOT IMPROVING:
NEXT WE DON OUR SENSES IN GLAD ARRAY
& MEET HERE AGAIN ON ANOTHER DAY.
JM.
That too could stand some work, if I may say so.
Michael, returning unexpectedly:
QUARRELING, POETS ?
JM.
He— I—that is, we…
Mich.
MY VERSE NOT METERED? NOT IN RHYME? THEN PRAY
MAKE SENSE OF IT YOURSELVES ANOTHER DAY!
Exit. And only now sunset’s tall dazzle
Dims from the frosted glass of our doorway.
O DEAR HE WAS STANDING OUTSIDE! HOW I ADORE HIM!
ME TOO! ME TOO! YR JADED MAMAN’S TYPE
Not Gabriel? Good. AH THERE ARE NIGHTS & KNIGHTS,
BUT YOU 3 FAITHFUL SQUIRES, YR MISTRESS SAYS,
WILL SERVE UNTIL THE END OF BLISSFUL DAYS.
DJ: Tomorrow will be twenty-four
Years to the day since J and I first met.
JM: Or twenty-five, as any Greek
Would count them; we’re all one year old at birth.
THE PARTY’S PLANNED, NO ACCIDENT! A Silver
Jubilee in England, too. Newsweek
Says London is a pulsing fairyland
Of coaches, fireworks, dancing on the green.
INDEED WHO WD HAVE THOUGHT THAT NO DOUBT STABLE
BUT O SO DOWDY SCHOOLGIRL WD TURN OUT
SUCH A SUCCESS? Maman, you knew the Queen?
Imagine never telling! DON’T MAKE FUN
THE LIFE MAMAN LED, SHE KNEW EVERYONE
*
JM from DJ entering
our 25th year—
often distant, ever dear.
(Diamonds not from Pharaoh’s barge
but MFJ’s engagement ring—
sorry they’re so large !)
—This with a band of chemically blackened
Silver in which twin baby stones are set
To balance a small “sun” of gold. Slipped on,
It is an instant, lifelong amulet.
JM: I’ve no gift but these lines the years
Together write upon my face and yours.
YOU DEAR BOYS AT FIVE & TWENTY
SURELY HAVE A GRACIOUS PLENTY
AND WHEN YOU’VE ARRIVED AT FIFTY
SHOULDN’T LIFE BE TWICE AS NIFTY?
MY POINT HERE SEEMS TO BE:
EXPECTANCY! EXPECTANCY!
Wystan, how very, very…silvery.
THANK U WE’RE GIVEN LIKE A PAIR OF WAITERS
THESE ORDERS FOR THIS AFTERNOON’S COMMAND
PERFORMANCE: SALT. A SPICE OF YR OWN CHOICE.
A SCENT. ICE IN A BOWL. A CANDLE LIT
& A LIVE FLOWER. FETCH THESE NOW We do.
David on the terrace cuts a snow-white,
Paprika-anthered lily. I meanwhile
Bring coriander and a bergamot
Cologne; the rest. That’s it? Then light the candle.
Sit. WHEE! U ARE WITH US FOR THE FIRST
TIME IN ALL THESE LESSONS NOT REVERSED.
WE SMELL U HEAR U & THEY SAY WILL TOUCH
U ANY MOMENT IT’S A LITTLE MUCH!
Is this called making sense? & GETTING THRU
Seventh Heaven, Judgment; Eighth, Command—
So Michael said. Are we to understand
Each lesson lifts us to a plane of greater
Power and light? INDEED AN ELEVATOR
How can you tell? Does Maman get a shade
More beautiful, like Beatrice? WE ARE MADE
AWARE, DEEP IN THE CAVE, OF CRYSTALS PLATO
NEVER DREAMED OF, BIG FAT SOLITAIRES!
IT’S NO ILLUSION EPHRAIM HAD IT RIGHT,
WE’VE TAKEN SENSES ON & IT’S DIVINE
Had it right for a different order of spirit:
You, in short. YET IF WE TOUCH AT 9
IS IT NOT MY DEARS HIS DREAM COME TRUE?
Ah, you must tell him. He’ll be thrilled. ALAS
WE MAY NEVER SEE HIM AFTER THIS
“Pronouncement” sends you back— A LAST LONG SUMMER
& DIE THE SWANS Never to sing again?
Just those mute messages flashed vein by vein
Through mineral and leaf? A COMFORT, NO?
MAMAN THE LAURA IN YR LAURELS
I
MY BOYS INSIST ON BEING YR PET ROCK!
D
J: Don’t let’s think now of losing you.
You’ll come with us to Samos? Ephesus?
LET’S DO BUT WHAT TO WEAR? They won’t take back
Your senses? INDIAN GIVERS? LET THEM TRY!
AH MUSIC IT BEGINS MY DEARS MY DEARS !
The Ascent to Nine
Music. A single pure white beam one knows
Floods the mirror room, which undergoes
Instant changes. Dewy garlands deck
The staircase. Statue, pictures, candlestick,
Each is prismatically multiplied.
The Ouija Board drifts upward on a tide
Of crystal light—ethereal parquet
Where guests will presently join WHA
And MM. (DJ and JM appear
Twice, outside and in, both ‘there’ and ‘here’.)
What is the music? STRAUSS I MEAN THEY ARE
SWEET TO REMEMBER ROSENKAVALIER
SIDE ONE GO PUT IT ON DEAR BOY I do,
And hurry back. NOW LINK YR FINGERS YES
NOW TOUCH EACH OTHER’S FACE KISS We obey.
(Only yesterday? Twenty-five years?)
AH YES YES IT BEGINS MY GOD!
MY MUSIC
MY MUSIC MY POOR SOUL THAT WAS MY SOUL
WHERE’S HOFFI? WHERE’S MY TWIN? It’s Strauss himself,
He’s at the party! THANK YOU FOR MY MUSIC
ROSEN SIND SIE MEINE BUEBCHEN We
Are roses—is he mad?
A second new
Voice entering the cup: WHAT IS THAT SOUND?
That’s Rosenkavalier by Richard Strauss
On the phonograph in Athens, in our house.
SO I AM HOME Who’s this? THE DWARF KIND SIRS
ONLY THE DWARF The great scribe Homer? I?
PERHAPS THEY TELL ME NOTHING THOUGH I LISTEN
You’re listened to throughout the centuries.
MAY I HEAR A SMALL POEM? ANYONE’S?
For Homer’s pleasure, what on Earth to say?
Luckily Wystan (JM PERMETTEZ?)
Takes over, and declaims: HOW JOYOUSLY
WE LITTLER MEN HAVE SAILED YOUR WINEDARK SEA,
IMMORTAL BARD, YOU WHO CREATED ME!
A third arrival: WHERE AM I? THIS MUSIC
I KNOW IT YES! AND MAESTRO, HERE?
1ST ES
NICHT EIN TRAUM, LIEBSTE NORWEGERIN?
(It can’t be Flagstad! YES THEY ALL TROOP IN)