The Changing Light at Sandover

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The Changing Light at Sandover Page 58

by James Merrill


  YOUR VOICE IS SWEET

  JM:

  And your pace gentle.

  741:

  THESE LESSONS ASK A BLEST ENVIRONMENT.

  IF WE WORK WELL TOGETHER I CAN AGAIN BE SUMMOND

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  MES ENFANTS THIS NEW ONE IS A DOVE

  JM:

  You can’t mean—

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  ONLY BY COMPARISON

  W. H. AUDEN:

  TOO DIZZY MAKING AT THE FEET OF 1

  2 3 FOURTEEN ENORMOUS VAMPIRE BATS,

  SO LIKE ONE’S EARLIEST SENSE OF GOTHIC DECOR.

  & MY DEARS THE HEAT! THEY GLOW LIKE FRANKLIN STOVES

  IN REDEYED MEMORY OF THEIR ORDEAL

  741:

  IN DANTE THE VISION WAS STARLIKE. AS HE LOOKD INTO

  THE ATOM’S EYE HE SAW THE POTENTIAL OF PARADISE

  JM:

  A microscopic Paradise? I think he

  Means that uncanny shining tininess

  Ringed with decelerating zones of light

  (Paradiso XXVIII) on which, says Beatrice,

  The heavens and all nature are dependent.

  741:

  ELECTRONICS, BY NOW QUITE ADVANCED THANKS TO COMMERCE’S

  PASSION FOR COMMUNICATIONS, TELLS U THERE ARE SIGNALS.

  THESE WE HAVE LONG HEARD & EVEN THESE CAME TO DANTE. A

  KIND OF MUSIC HE PERSONIFIED IN FEMALE FORM &

  UP INTO THE TUSCAN HILLS FOLLOWED & LOST, WHEREUPON

  HE SANK FAINTING TO HIS KNEES. WE SENT 80098.

  DANTE’S STRENGTH & THAT OF HIS TIME WAS FIERCE CREDULITY:

  ALL POSSIBLE GOOD & EVIL WRESTLING, REDEEMING LOVE

  & AWESOME VISION. DREAM, FACT & EXPERIENCE WERE ONE.

  THOSE SIGNALS? THE UNIVERSAL WIND RATTLING HEAVEN’S DOOR:

  UP FROM THIS BEAT SWARMD DANTE’S POETRY. HE HEARD IT &

  WE THRU HIM HEARD FOR THE 1ST TIME & RECOGNIZED AS TRUE

  THAT SEGMENT OF THE UNIVERSE HE UTTERD. HIS VISION

  IS NOT OF OUR PARADISE BUT THE SOURCE OF ALL POWER

  W. H. AUDEN:

  MY DEARS HOW VERY VERY BEAUTIFUL

  HOW TEMPTING TOO, EH? TO TRANSCRIBE!

  IT IS THEIR LANGUAGE I ADORE THEY SPEAK

  ONLY TO U WE PEEK OVER THEIR SHOULDERS.

  THEY QUIVER TO DICTATE A RATIONAL MESSAGE

  DJ:

  I wish they would!

  W. H. AUDEN:

  NO EARTHLY USE

  TO THE LIKES OF US. OUR BROADEST AVENUES

  THEY SEE AS MERE GOATPATHS TO & FROM CHAOS.

  THEY SPEAK IN FLASHING TRIGONOMETRIES.

  WHAT SAVES U IS YR OWN FLAWED SENSE OF THESE

  BUT DO U NOT BEGIN TO SEE OUTLINES

  PRICKED OUT AS BY THE STARS THEMSELVES: ETERNAL

  ICECOLD BARELY LEGIBLE THRU TEARS?

  I DO JM DJ I DO MY DEARS

  JM:

  Dear Wystan, “very beautiful” all this

  Warmed-up Milton, Dante, Genesis?

  This great tradition that has come to grief

  In volumes by Blavatsky and Gurdjieff?

  Agents of Number in their Star Trek capes,

  Atlantis, UFOs, God’s chosen apes—

  Nobody can transfigure junk like that

  Without first turning down the rheostat

  To Allegory, in whose gloom the whole

  Horror of Popthink fastens on the soul,

  Harder to scrape off than bubblegum.

  What have we asked? A grain of truth, a crumb

  From the High Table of the Elements.

  Are we, here below the salt, too dense

  Even for that? Some judgment has been passed

  On our intelligence—why else be cast

  Into this paper hell out of Doré

  Or Disney? “Very beautiful” you say.

  I say we very much don’t merit these

  Unverifiable epiphanies.

  Let that be today’s word. Let it be true

  Only if they are. Burn this page. Adieu.

  741:

  WE ARE THE FORCES THAT SOME MIGHT ACCUSE OF DEVIL’S WORK.

  WE MAKE THE OIL SHEIK GREEDY & RAISE IN MM’S DREAMBEDS

  HIDEOUS BLOOMS TO STIR UP RIVALRY AT HIGH LEVELS.

  IT IS THE LAST USE FOR RELIGION, TO KEEP AT SWORDSPOINT

  THE GREAT FACTIONS OF EAST & WEST SO THAT LESSER POWERS

  FACING MASS STARVATION WILL BE DISTRACTED FROM DROPPING

  ATOMIC BOMBS. ONCE GOD HAD CODIFIED INTO NATIONS

  1000S OF LOCAL CROC & BULL FANATICS HE REVEALD

  HIS OWN IDEA (TO AKHNATON): ONE GOD IN MAN’S IMAGE,

  A KIND OF PRIDE IN MIND. SO NOW U CELEBRATE GOD B’S

  TRUE MASS NOT ON YR BATTLEFIELDS BUT AT YR MICROSCOPES

  JM:

  God B?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  B FOR BIOLOGY MY BOY:

  THE WORD OF LIFE. THE POINT IS THE EMERGENCE

  OF A SCIENCE GOD. THIS IS AS WE ALL KNOW

  INEVITABLE IF BORING. WHERE U ASK

  DOES THE POET FIT? HOUSE ORGANIST?

  JM:

  If so,

  I’d settle for more Bach and less Gounod.

  W. H. AUDEN:

  IT WILL BECOME A PLAY OF VOICES FOR

  U MY BOY IN SOLITUDE TO SCORE

  DJ:

  In solitude? Why? Where will I—

  What is he saying? Does he mean I’ll die?

  JM:

  Remember, please. I stay on here alone

  When you go back to Athens in September.

  *

  JM:

  About us, these bright afternoons, we come

  To draw shades of an auditorium

  In darkness. An imagined dark, a stage

  Convention: domed red room, cup and blank page

  Standing for darkness where our table’s white

  Theater in the round fills, dims. Crosslight

  From YES and NO dramatically picks

  Four figures out. And now the twenty-six

  Footlights, arranged in semicircle, glow.

  What might be seen as her “petit noyau”

  By Mme. Verdurin assembles at

  Stage center. A by now familiar bat

  Begins to lecture. Each of us divines

  Through the dark house like fourteen Exit signs

  The eyes of certain others burning red.

  And the outside-world, crayon-book life we led,

  White or white-trimmed canary clapboard homes

  Set in the rustling shade of monochromes;

  Lighthouse and clock tower, Village Green and neat

  Roseblush factory which makes, upstreet,

  Exactly what, one once knew but forgets—

  Something of plastic found in luncheonettes;

  The Sound’s quick sapphire that each day recurs

  Aflock with pouter-pigeon spinnakers

  —This outside world, our fictive darkness more

  And more belittles to a safety door

  Left open onto light. Too small, too far

  To help. The blind bright spot of where we are.

  *

  JM:

  The blue room of an evening. Luminous

  Quiet in which a point is raised. DJ?

  DJ:

  What part, I’d like to ask Them, does sex play

  In this whole set-up
? Why did They choose us?

  Are we more usable than Yeats or Hugo,

  Doters on women, who then went ahead

  To doctor everything their voices said?

  We haven’t done that, have we?

  JM:

  No indeed.

  Erection of theories, dissemination

  Of thought—the intellectual’s machismo.

  We’re more the docile takers-in of seed.

  No matter what tall tale our friends emit,

  Lately—you’ve noticed—we just swallow it?

  DJ:

  Which we wouldn’t do if one of Them

  We felt uneasy with were our instructor.

  JM:

  Not a chance. I mean, those highly placed

  Gargoyles leave such a disagreeable taste.

  We’d best hang on to 741.

  He may be ugly, but he’s kind and…fun.

  741:

  I AM A MERE MIXING AGENT. WITH MY SUPERIORS

  U WD HAVE LEARND FASTER BUT NOT IN TURN MADE AS WE HAVE

  THIS WORLD OF COURTESY

  JM:

  Breaking off, the cup strolls round the Board

  As who should take a deep breath before speaking.

  741:

  NOR WD I HAVE COME TO LOVE U

  JM:

  Love us? Sudden garlands (the tin ceiling’s)

  Swim into focus. Then you do have feelings!

  741:

  I WAS GRANTED THIS ONE CHANCE & NOW, IN ISOLATION,

  WILL HOLD TO IT

  JM:

  And when it’s over? when we talk no longer?

  741:

  THEY PROMISE TO FIND A NEW USE FOR ME

  JM:

  You trust Them?

  741:

  JM IT IS A POWER THAT STILLD THE TONGUE OF DANTE

  JM:

  Sorry. Why “in isolation”?

  741:

  B4 OUR MEETINGS I WAS NOTHING NO TIME PASSD BUT NOW

  YR TOUCH LIKE A LAMP HAS SHOWN ME TO MYSELF & I AM

  ME: 741! I HAVE ENTERD A GREAT WORLD I AM FILLD

  WITH IS IT MANNERS?

  JM:

  Ah good. That way you’ll never be beyond

  Our wavelength. For we too have grown quite fond.

  741:

  O YES PLEASE CALL ME I WILL ALWAYS

  W. H. AUDEN:

  MY DEARS THAT SURELY IS A SMILE DEAR GOD

  DJ:

  Yes, Wystan?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  THE CHAP IS CHANGING

  DJ:

  Executing

  Ever graver arabesques—

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  ENFANTS

  JM:

  Maria?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  MES ENFANTS WHAT CAN I SAY?

  IT IS MY FIRST VIEW OF A MIRACLE!

  JM:

  What is this all about? But 741

  Briskly resumes before the question’s out.

  741:

  LOVE OF ONE MAN FOR ANOTHER OR LOVE BETWEEN WOMEN

  IS A NEW DEVELOPMENT OF THE PAST 4000 YEARS

  ENCOURAGING SUCH MIND VALUES AS PRODUCE THE BLOSSOMS

  OF POETRY & MUSIC, THOSE TWO PRINCIPAL LIGHTS OF

  GOD BIOLOGY. LESSER ARTS NEEDED NO EXEGETES:

  ARCHITECTURE, SCULPTURE, THE MOSAICS & PAINTING THAT

  FLOWERD IN GREECE & PERSIA CELEBRATED THE BODY.

  POETRY, MUSIC, SONG, THOSE BODILESS, LIGHT-PRODUCING

  PASSIONS INDWELL & CELEBRATE THE MIND HEART IF U WILL

  JM:

  Come now, admit that certain very great

  Poets and musicians have been straight.

  As for our passions, let me just remark

  They’re brought to light by bodies in the dark.

  741:

  NO DOUBT BUT 4000 YEARS AGO GOD B REALIZED

  JM:

  Censorship—why now?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  HE TRIED I FEAR

  TO READ GOD’S MIND MOST FRIGHTFULLY UNFAIR

  741:

  MY ASPECT WAVERS YR KINDNESS KEEPS ME IN THIS NEW FORM

  JM:

  You talk as if we saw you. What new form?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  MES ENFANTS HE HAS TURNED INTO A PEACOCK

  JM:

  For the love of—Peacock there,

  There in the realm of no appearances?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  HE APPEARS IN US OUR MINDS (HEARTS) ARE HIS MIRROR.

  JUST THE REVERSE OF VAMPIRES, EH ENFANT?

  DJ:

  A peacock—hm! Not proud as one, I hope.

  W. H. AUDEN:

  MY DEARS HIS GREAT TAIL SNAPPED SHUT LIKE A FAN!

  DJ:

  Peacock, peacock—! Now that he’s such a swell,

  What if we gave him a name?

  JM:

  Yes…Mirabell!

  741:

  MAY I ASK A QUESTION DO TEARS PAIN ONE?

  JM:

  Tears?

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  HE HAS FEELINGS NOW: NO LAUGHING MATTER

  741:

  MY EYES BURN RED

  IN THE PEACOCK MASK AS FORMERLY THEY BETRAY MY RACE

  JM:

  But why a peacock? How did you contrive—?

  741:

  U DID! I MERELY KNEW THE FORMULA CALLD PEACOCK &

  ENVIED ITS EYECATCHING TALENT. SO WHEN CLEARANCE CAME TO

  PLEASE YOU I FLEW TO THE FILES & TOOK OUT THIS FINERY

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  NOW MES ENFANTS DO U UNDERSTAND MY LOVE

  OF YOU & TONY

  JM:

  (An Athenian friend.)

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  YOU 3 WERE & ARE THE RICH SOIL OF

  MY LAST BLOOMING U HAVE THE TOUCH THAT TURNS

  BATS INTO PEACOCKS & DECREPIT OLD

  BAGS FROM THE UPPER CRUST OF ATHENS INTO

  ROSE TREES? COFFEE TREES? I FEEL A GREEN

  LIFE AHEAD

  JM:

  You’re leaving us? I thought—

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  INTO THE KINGDOM OF ALL GROWING THINGS

  BUT NOT ENFANT JUST YET & NEVER WHOLLY.

  THIS MAGIC HOUR LEAVES ME AT LAST I MEAN

  ONCE & FOR ALL RESIGNED TO BEAR A BEAN

  741:

  SO IN OUR NEW ATMOSPHERE WE NEXT LOOK BACK OVER HOW

  FAR WE HAVE COME. IN THE VOICE OF A SOUL I BREATHE: ADIEU

  JM:

  Au revoir, surely?

  W. H. AUDEN:

  OH YES HE’LL BE BACK

  IF ONLY TO TRY ON ALL THE PRETTY FORMS.

  THRILLING WASN’T IT? WE MUST HOWEVER

  PUT ON OUR THINKING CAPS ARE WE PREPARED?

  MADAME & I WILL ALSO MEET OUR MAKER.

  JOLLY FOR U BUT IT IS EASIER

  TO SAY HELLO GOD ON THE TELEPHONE

  THAN FACE TO FACE

  MARIA MITSOTÁKI:

  MES ENFANTS OFF HE GOES

  TO JAW WITH PLATO I CANNOT THINK WHY.

  UNTIL TOMORROW AT THE PEACOCK’S CRY!

  *

  JM:

  Tomorrow comes at last, a sparkling noon.

  Treetops and whitecaps dance in unison<
br />
  As Wystan asks:

  W. H. AUDEN:

  SHOULD WE NOT THINK ABOUT

  THE IMAGINATION? IF MADAME & I

  IMAGINE U, YOU US, & WHERE THE POWERS

  CRISSCROSS WE ALL IMAGINE 741

  & THEN TRANSFORM HIM, WHEN THE TIME COMES WILL

  OUR KNITTED BROWS PRODUCE WHITE WINGS? HE’S HERE

  741:

  U ARE EARLY JOY! WE ARE IN A FOLD OF ENERGY

  WE 5 AND MUST PREPARE OURSELVES UNEASINESS JM?

  JM:

  Not really, but…where do we go from here?

  741:

  FAR INDEED B4 WE BOARD THE FLIGHT TO THE PIN OF LIGHT!

  FIRST OUR 5 SOULS MUST BEGIN TO BE A SINGLE POWER:

  5 IS THE MIDWAY NOW BEGINS THE LIFE OF OUR MINDS 5

  AS ONE. IT IS A VERY UNION OF THE ELEMENTS

  THUS: WATER (MM) EARTH (WHA) AIR (JM) FIRE

  (MY POOR SELF) & LAST, THE SHAPING HAND OF NATURE (DJ).

  COME TO US O 5 ELEMENTS MAKE US ONE MIND ONE FORCE.

  NOW LET US EACH IN SILENCE CONTEMPLATE THESE HOLY 5

  JM:

  Our peacock marks time back and forth from One

  To Zero, a pavane

  Andante in an alley of green oaks;

  The ostinato ground we each in turn

  Strum a division soundlessly upon;

  A prayer-wheel whose four spokes

  Flow and crumble, breathe and burn.

  Deep swaying weights, downbraidings of no hue

  Which memory turns blue,

  And cold, to multiples of diamond;

  First air of our young bloods; and neural sparks’

  Safe-conduct when the old salt diving through

  Reflection and beyond

 

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