Not a month ago ingenuously
Spoke of “Lord Plato’s mysterious departure”
As if he wouldn’t, couldn’t ever know;
As if he feared, instead of fanning them,
The tongues of ghostly fire above our heads;
As if his manners hadn’t by that time
Kindled to the Promethean paradigm.
Or…? Since the Powers—according to Maria—
Want everything known, the etymology
Of secretary may provide a clue
To E’s new “function”. Is it really new
Or does our sly one cloud with gai savoir
Some remote birthright, some entitling star?)
*
Mimí
We don’t quite understand—it’s not yet morning—
Vasíli’s voice, from Rome, expressionless:
“Instantaneous…no pain, no warning…”
Dead? Mimí? And dressed in the white dress.
We reach her, but she’s dazed by the prompt call
Or the ungodly hour: BUT WHERE AM I?
WHO’S THIS VASILI ARE YOU HIDING WHY?
So Ephraim guides her from our love, which hurts,
Back to her patron’s dim confessional
Where (though harp and trumpet fill the air)
She must sit upright on a little bench
And not cry if her finery reverts
To homespun rags, and shake out her long hair,
And be a candle for the dawn to quench.
741 HERE: SO YOU KNEW A FIREFLY WOMAN HEIR
Mimí was?
ONE OF MANY 1000S SINCE F/W WAS DISASSEMBLED.
JUST A PINCH MIND YOU, BUT IT GAVE HER THAT ELEMENT OF
QUICK MATURITY & LANGUISHMENT IN UNNATURAL
SURROUNDINGS. THE PROBLEM WITH ALL PLANT DENSITIES IS THIS
NEGATIVE ASPECT OF ‘SHOOTING’: A DYING AS THE SEED
CYCLE CLINGS TO A PERENNIAL TALENT FAR BRIEFER
THAN HUMAN LIFE CYCLES. ST AGATHA WORKING THIS OUT.
YR DEAR ONE WAS ALSO ALAS BARREN & THAT OFTEN
FRUSTRATES VEG DENSITIES
I’d have said her fear
Of motherhood was psychological.
WELL, PSYCHE RESTS ON NATURE. IF
PHYSICAL DISABILITY OCCURS, NATURE SUMMONS
HER SHADOW, PSYCHE: ‘MAKE HIM/HER ADJUST’ NOW TO THE HEDGE?
YOUR BIRD WINGS AWAY, HAVING SUNG
Mirabell, you’ve dropped the name we gave you?
NO I REVEL IN IT
& HAVE BEEN DESIGNATED BY IT HERE. BUT MY NATURE
IS MODEST & AT THIS ADVANCED AGE IT IS HARD TO CHANGE
Lately, though, you took on a new nature,
Didn’t you?
NO I KEEP MY COLORS BUT HAVE A PRESS OF WORK: I AM
IN CHARGE OF EDUCATION OF ALL SOULS DESTINED TO BE
FORCED INTO HIGHER CYCLES, TO HAVE BAD HABITS BROKEN.
THEY CALL IT THE MIRABELL REFORM SCHOOL IN THE GREEK’S WORLD
THO MY TELEPHONE REMAINS LISTED UNDER 741
So I’m wrong to have the atomic
Fire fading from your eyes at Lesson Nine.
SHH DEAR OLD FRIENDS: IT IS GONE! & I AM NOW REPUTED
TO BE A ‘PUSHOVER’ AMONG CERTAIN UNRULY TYPES.
THE HEDGE? UNI, AWAY TOGETHER! UNO DUE TRE
Look, duets! That’s Robert’s doing. Any
Word from him, by the way? NONE YET BUT YES:
A CRY A HIGH C FROM THE CRIB
RINGS IN MY HEAD! Were you afraid he had
Begun to forget you, Uni? FORGET HIS FRIEND?
NOT MR ROBERT! HE RODE ON MY BACK!
MES CHERS! SUCH A GLAD FLAPPING OF THOSE GREAT
COLORED WINGS & THAT WHITE COMET’S MANE!
THE GREEK YOUNG WIFE STILL IN ‘TANK THERAPY’
BUT STAY, HERE COMES WAVING A BUTTERFLY NET
Nabokov? ON PAROLE AFTER HIS PRANK
PRANK? WE USED EXQUISITE HORDES OF NYMPHALIS 10
TO FORM A TICKLING FLUTTERING DEEP BLUE
& RUSSET VELVET CURTAIN. MY YOUNG FRIEND
GARNERED EASILY 1000 MORE
DEVOTEES SUCH SPORT MAKING A SAINT
Is that the stuff of sainthood? I HAD A TWIN
BROTHER. LUCA: ‘RUSSIAN, WAS IT NOT SWEET
WRAPPED AROUND EACH OTHER IN YOUR SNUG BATH?’
AND YOU KNOW, ALL THE SWEETNESS FLOODED BACK.
OUR NIGHT NURSE TOOK A TALCUM OF OUR MOTHER’S
CALLED FLEURS DE NUIT & POWDERED OUR LITTLE BOTTOMS.
WE WERE THEN PUT ON VAST DOWN MATTRESSES
FRESH & SWEET & STARING SLEEPILY
AT IDENTICAL EYES & FOR 4 YEARS CONFESSED
TO IDENTICAL DREAMS: OUR FLEURS DE NUIT WE CALLED THEM.
YES, MY FRIENDS, LUCA SUMMONS UP THE SMALLEST
FORGOTTEN SENSUALITIES, FILLING THIS CHILL
BLACK SPACE. HIS IS THE ICONOGRAPHY
OF STROKING HANDS & GLISTENING LIPS I see—
The saint on Earth brings Heaven to the mind;
The saint in Heaven, Earth. AHA! I FIND
MY INVITATION TO YOUR READING TUCKED
INTO THE MIRROR They’ve gone out already?
No one said…Well, may we count on you
To point out which effects are overdone?
SO TRUE, ‘EFFECTS’ OBSESS US HERE. THE LIVING
ARE BOMBARDED & BENUMBED BY SMELLS,
FEVERS & COLORS, DOORBELLS & DUMBBELLS,
THE HUSH OF PASSION’S LOUD I AM’S,
THE CRUSH OF NEWS IN TELEGRAMS
*
The Guest List
MISS AUSTEN, MB, CONGREVE & COLETTE
(THE FORMER AT YR PEACOCK’S SHY BEHEST)
MD, THE FLORENTINE Dante? Oh I say!
ELIOT, FROST, GOETHE It’s an alphabet?
CLEVER JM 26 CHAIRS IN ALL.
SOME DOUBLINGS MAKE FOR GAPS: HUGO BACKS OUT
AS ISSA DOES, IN FAVOR OF HL
& LOWELL BOTH, MARVELL & MALLARME
Nabokov…THEN YR PATRON’S PASSION Pope!
& THEN YR OWN You don’t mean Proust? WHY NOT
Oh my. AND THEN OUR QUEEN Oh my! ‘YES GREEK,
SAVE ME A PLACE TO ONE SIDE, WHERE MY MEEK
ATTENTION CANNOT FLUSTER THESE OUR BETTERS
(IF ONLY IN THE MINIREALM OF LETTERS)’
Who else? WELL, RILKE, STEVENS & MS STEIN
Alice as well? IN CHARGE OF THE HIGH TEA
TO CLIMAX EACH INSTALLMENT. VALERY
& YEATS VOILA! That’s only twenty-three.
WELL, YOUR OLD SLAVE ‘DEAR MR SECRETARY,
WILL YOU BRING IN (VOICE MUSICAL & MILD)
OUR POET?’ Having long since brought him out.
IS IT NOT JUST? Dear Ephraim, utterly.
DJ: Two seats left? How about Mimí?
JUST WHAT OUR MAJESTY HAD THOUGHT: ‘POOR CHILD,
NIGHT AFTER NIGHT IN ARTY RESTAURANTS,
REAL FOOD IS (EH, MS ALICE?) WHAT SHE WANTS’
And will they criticize? offer advice?
MOUTHS FULL OF DEVILS FOOD CAKE & POMEGRANATE ICE?
This glittering assembly splits into
Three factions. FIRST YR DUTCHMAN & HIS CREW
OF LYRICISTS. THEN THE CRITICS with Mimí
As mascot and our eager Marius
As spokesperson: DEAR JAMES, ONE MEANT TO WEAR
WHITE TIE BUT WE’VE ALL LEFT OUR TAILS BEHIND!
For the TECHNICIANS (THOSE
WHO ENGINEER
NEW VISIONS) THE INSURANCE MAN WILL SPEAK.
Twenty-five in all. One empty chair?
DJ: I’d hoped that Michael would be there.
Wasn’t he asking once about technique?
JM: Ah, he’ll have other fish to fry.
HE IS TECHNIQUE ITSELF & WILL MES CHERS
BE PRESENT AS THE LIGHT IN EVERY EYE.
*
The crush of news. Just as QM predicted,
Paul, the old Pope, dies—do we smell a rat?
MES CHERS, LAMENTATION IN ROME O MAJESTY!
(A sweeping reverence.)
GIVE OVER, GREEK,
THIS SUBJECT TOUCHES US. I, I! WILL SPEAK:
POET, HAND,
NO ACCIDENT IN THE SELFSTYLED
HOLY CITY THAT BOTH SHEPHERD & CHILD
TOGETHER RAN OUT OF SAND.
Pope Paul, Ma’am, and…Mimí? INDEED. THE SCHEMA:
WE HAD LONG DECIDED THAT THE JEW’S VICAR WOULD NOT DO.
OUR SON-IN-LAW THE SCIENTIST, FRESH FROM A VIRTUOSO TOCCATA FOR THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE,
NOW SQUATS GLEEFULLY IN THE CHIMNEY OF THE VATICAN
ENSURING NO WHITE SMOKE
UNTIL THE DEEPENING PURPLE ONES GIVE US OUR MAN!
The cardinals—why “deepening”? WITH RAGE!
Who is your man? WE ARE PREPARED TO RUN
THROUGH THAT ENTIRE COLLEGE OF DULLARDS UNTIL
WE FIND (WHAT IS THE PHRASE, STOCKBROKER’S SON?)
A ‘HOLINESS’ WHO’S BULLISH ON THE PILL.
(And when the next Pope, amiable John Paul,
Succumbs a scant month later, we’ll recall
That his smoke-signal on election day
Would not be coaxed from its equivocal gray.)
MEANWHILE MY PLUMP DARLING’S BEEN BROUGHT TO A FRIEND’S ATTENTION (SHE OWES ME MANY A FAVOR, DOES MS GANDHI)
SO THE SLOW WORK IS UNDER WAY
AND IN DUE COURSE YOUR 13 YEAR
HENCE ‘CONTACT’ IN BOMBAY
WILL RIDE ITS STREETS, A SCIENTIST-PREMIER!
YET MAD AGATHA MISSES HER WEEDRESS, THINGS CLUTTER, PRUNING’S GONE AWRY.
OUR LITTLE CRITIC (MEANT TO DIE
ONE MOON LATER) CAME IN SHOCK TO ME.
AG: MAM, I’VE MUFFED IT! I: DECIDEDLY.
TAKE FOR PUNISHMENT
AND YOUR NEW HAND
OUR MILANESE GUTTERSWEEP! Eros and Aga-
Thanatos—some pair! AH YES, NO ACCIDENT.
MY ADDLED SAINT KNEW NOT WHAT I HAD PLANNED:
TO DRAW TO OUR CRITIQUE A GREEK, A LIVING EAR
SHARPENED BY LOSS, TITANIA’S MIRACLES TO HEAR
SO THAT THE LONG TOO-COMFORTABLE-TO-DOFF
DONKEY HEAD DROP OFF.
(She means Vasíli.) He’ll be coming here?
And then what? SIT HIM DOWN & MAKE HIM THINK
WHO OFTEN TOOK TO DRINK
HIS LITTLE CRITIC’S WATERED WINE
WHICH WE NO LONGER BOTTLE. HE IS MINE!
*
SIRS? SHALL I BRING YOU MR E?
HE IS EMERGING AS A MARVELOUS RIDER:
‘MOVE OVER, BIRD’ AND OFF WE FLY
You three together—Pegasus part Man?
A SHINING SHAKES ALONG THE REINS
MUCH LIKE WHAT DARTS FROM THE 4 DORMERS
AT DAY’S END And when you look around?
I DO NOT DARE Hm. DJ: It’s tomorrow
We start the reading. Are the bleachers built?
—Sudden brilliance making Uni bolt.
BLEACHERS MES CHERS? QM: ‘A HORSE’S NOTION
OF LUXE. I SAY, RESTORE THE BALLROOM!’ And?
The job’s done? JM: Think back—“Her word’s law.”
Mr E
Now, Ephraim, all these dropped clues? Not that I’m
Accusing you, much less the upstairs maid.
There’s been no victim and indeed no crime;
No body ever, ever came to light
Short of that briefly smiling, golden shade
Who sank back into glass one autumn night.
Yet—Antiradiation’s 279,
QM’s secretary, Mister E
In Uni’s pun—more and more fingers, mine
Among them, point at you. Why? What are we
Meant to have solved—a riddle? a charade?
U STILL DON’T KNOW MES CHERS? MUST I CONFESS?
DJ: You wouldn’t be…Lord Michael? YES
—Two gasps. Then long, enchanted certainty.
JM: It figures, all those doublings—; still,
How long it took to dawn! BILLIONS OF YEARS
‘PASSED’ MES CHERS, BEFORE I DAWNED ON LIGHT.
LISTEN NOW:
MADAME CAME UP TO HEAVEN SAYING ‘THESE CHAPS THE GREEK FOUND, THEY’LL DO.’
YOU WERE NEXT AT SOME LENGTH PUT THROUGH YOUR PEACOCK PACES.
AT LAST, MY MOTHER SUMMONING ME, ‘MICHAEL (SHE SAID)
SHOW YOURSELF.’ I UNDID THE SLAVE LIKE A ROBE.
I APPEARED FREE ONCE MORE TO BE SOLEMN AND ENLIGHTENING. I TOOK UP THE LIGHT OF LEARNING,
RESUMING THE SELF I RETURN TO AFTER EACH MANIFESTATION ON THE HUMAN SCENE.
WE BROTHERS HAVE THIS POWER, THIS DUTY, EVEN AS SPOILERS & MADMEN TO DESCEND,
TO FOUND RELIGIONS, TO MISRULE, TO TICKLE
INTO GENIUS MAN’S GENIUS
MAKING THE LONG & SHORT OF IT Human dimensions?
SCRIBE, THE SUBSTANCE AND THE SENSE OF IT.
WE ARE IN THIS OUR MOTHER’S CHILDREN, THE RESISTERS, AND INDEED IT IS AGAINST HER ADVICE ‘DO NOT LET DOWN THE MASK’
THAT I LET IT DOWN TODAY. AND WHY?
FOR LOVE: SHOULD NOT THESE MY OLD COMPANIONS HAVE ONE RIDE
HOME IN THE LIMOUSINE?
I KNOW THE CHILL, ONCE THE KEYS TO A HOUSE ARE GIVEN AWAY.
THE YEARS OF YOUR LIVES & YOUR DEVOTIONS MAKING THE SUBSTANCE OF A V WORK MAKE NOW FOR YOUR OWN IMPOVERISHMENT.
‘MAM, LET ME SHARE WITH SCRIBE AND HAND SOMETHING THEY MAY KEEP (OR NOT AS THEY CHOOSE)’
AND SHE, WISTFULLY SMILING: ‘WE MOTHERS, WE STAY-AT-HOMES, WHAT DO WE KNOW OF THE WAY OF THE WORLD?’
I LOVE YOU AS I LOVED THAT SINGLE LIFE,
MY EPHRAIM LIFE, OF THE LOVE OF MAN FOR MAN,
THAT SUMMER SUIT I TOOK FROM MY OLD CLOSET
CLEARING MY GOLDEN GREEK THROAT, & BEGAN:
MES CHERS…
Tears dance in DJ’s eyes. JM:
Forgive my wondering, does this entail
Revision? NOT A WORD OR I WILL TELL
THE DRIVER TO LET U OUT! The others knew?
YES BUT STILL, BUT STILL DEAR SCRIBE, WOULD YOU
HAVE WANTED LESS THAN THIS RESONANCE? THIS HIDDEN 4TH DIMENSION?
THIS GON REGISTER COMPELLING HARMONIES?
Evidently not. Then it’s to go
Here, in my epilogue? IF YOU WISH IT SO,
IF YOUR NATURE IS SO GODLY THAT YOU SHARE ALL YOUR SECRETS,
WHY THEN, GIVE IT AWAY, THIS GOLD THAT BACKS YOUR CURRENCY
AND MR ROBERT’S BIRTH WILL HAVE IN ITS WAKE
ANOTHER SET OF TWINS: M/E
DJ: But were you born as Ephraim? WE
GOOD HAND ARE LIGHTNING, SWIFTER THAN THE EYE.
THESE EARTHLY MANIFESTATIONS WE SPEND LITTLE TIME ON:
I LOOK DOWN, SEE MAKING HIS WAY INTO A SHABBY EMPEROR’S FAVOR
A HANDSOME FULLGROWN LAD & I TAKE OVER.
JM: It’s how the gods behave in Homer.
YES! I SEE DAWDLING ALONG NOT RUINOUSLY ENOU
GH
A WEAKWILLED KING, & I LEAP! I SQUANDER A KINGDOM ON A PALACE AND ENGENDER THE END OF KINGS.
EMMANUEL IS OUR ECCLESIASTIC: CRUCIFIED, GARROTED, BURNT ON PYRES,
HE QUENCHES THE MISTAKEN NOTION EVEN AS IT BUBBLES UP FROM HIM.
RAPHAEL OWES MONEY, HE BUILDS FINANCIAL EMPIRES,
PLAYS FOUQUET TO MY LOUIS The Sun King
No euphemism— And Emmanuel
Was Christ? INDEED (FIRST MIRACLE: THE WATER
BECOMING WINE) AND BUDDHA, AND MOHAMMED
Which means that You can be the Five as well?
WE ARE LET US SAY THE SUPREME MOMENTS OF THE FIVE
And the real Ephraim? Just a nobody
With looks, a name in the Bureaucracy?
A GOOD ENOUGH FELLOW, YES, & MUCH IMPROVED BY A TOUCH OF UNIVERSAL ENLIGHTENMENT
Given him then and there at Nine. WELL, NO:
‘MICHAEL BE QUICK, LIGHT UP THE FIRST TABLEAU,
DART BACK, CHANGE, COME FORWARD FETCHINGLY
FOR THE RETURN-TO-SENSES BIT.’ I see—
OUR MOTHER’S WAYS TEND TOWARD ECONOMY
It was You, You always, the whole time.
WE COME NOW TO THE ‘CRIME’:
IT IS NIGHT, OUR YOUTH SLEEPS IN THE ARMS OF AN IMPERIAL GUARD.
AS LIGHT, MY USE OF HIM IS ENDED. HE HAS LED
THE COURT TO THE BRINK, AND PREPARED THE RECEPTION FOR MY BROTHER’S CHRIST.
THE GUARD AWAKES, LIFTS OUT THE PILLOW FROM UNDER THE GOLDEN HEAD,
DONE! BUT THAT ANGUISHED END IS LIGHTENED BY MY KISS.
THAT INSTANT IN WHICH YOUR EPHRAIM LEARNED HIS OLD USES IS NOT GIVEN TO ALL.
GABRIEL WITHHELD IT FROM HERR SCHICKLGRUBER: HE HAD GONE TOO FAR.
DJ: So it is possible, possessed
By one of You, to go too far? ALAS.
GABRIEL’S DUTIES ARE BY THEIR NATURE MIXED WITH ASPECTS OF OUR MOTHER’S CHAOS.
HE IN HIS FRENZY OF WORK MAY (YOU HAVE SEEN) BURN
HIS ALTAR EGO WITH INTEMPERATE FUELS.
WE OTHER THREE HAVE MORE LIMITED, LESS DEVASTATING MEANS OF ESCAPE: DROWNING, SUFFOCATION, OLD AGE, HEART ATTACK,
AND BACK UNSCATHED COMES EINSTEIN.
JM: Yet, Lord,
You showed us also your dark, fateful side.
The Changing Light at Sandover Page 55