The water held within
My hands,
Until my hands made
Wings and
It fell but held itself
Until it hit
The earth and it broke
And then the
Air held, in the span
Of my cold
And empty white hands.
It had flown
For a space, where light
Held it in the
Coincidence of its song.
Saturday 31 December 2011
162
He stared long
Into the sky as it
Caged the earth,
Where the light flew
Into the dark.
He spoke in the hush.
Nothing was
Contained within its
Arc without station.
A god had leapt into it
And crashed in flames.
The far stars turned
As on an axletree.
Into the sky as it
Caged the earth,
Where the light flew
Into the dark.
He spoke in the hush.
Nothing was
Contained within its
Arc without station.
A god had leapt into it
And crashed in flames.
The far stars turned
As on an axletree.
161
He stared long
Into the grate as it
Caged the fire,
As the air drew it to
Its heart, so
To feed upon itself.
Nothing was
Contained within its
Form but light.
The flower
Leapt from its armour—
Light rose
In the ghost of its arms.
Into the grate as it
Caged the fire,
As the air drew it to
Its heart, so
To feed upon itself.
Nothing was
Contained within its
Form but light.
The flower
Leapt from its armour—
Light rose
In the ghost of its arms.
160
John came downstairs heavily
As it was growing light and
Shut behind him the screen door
And went shivering out into
The yard where nothing had yet
Moved and crossed barefoot
To the passage between the barn
And the outer wall of the
House and with his arms shaking
And his gut coiled crossed
To the outhouse, and closed
The half-hinged door behind him.
He unbuckled his belt with
Slow cold hands and sat and
Recoiled at the seat on his
Skin and then he breathed
In and then he commenced
To shit, and he breathed out.
He could hear doves calling
Through the woods and the
Moan of low wind and the trees.
His bowels growled.
When he went back up to
The house he would break into
A pan five eggs and grill
Some toast and drink a cold
Glass of milk and swill it all
In his mouth grease and grit
And curds and then wash his
Face outside in the frozen cistern.
As it was growing light and
Shut behind him the screen door
And went shivering out into
The yard where nothing had yet
Moved and crossed barefoot
To the passage between the barn
And the outer wall of the
House and with his arms shaking
And his gut coiled crossed
To the outhouse, and closed
The half-hinged door behind him.
He unbuckled his belt with
Slow cold hands and sat and
Recoiled at the seat on his
Skin and then he breathed
In and then he commenced
To shit, and he breathed out.
He could hear doves calling
Through the woods and the
Moan of low wind and the trees.
His bowels growled.
When he went back up to
The house he would break into
A pan five eggs and grill
Some toast and drink a cold
Glass of milk and swill it all
In his mouth grease and grit
And curds and then wash his
Face outside in the frozen cistern.
159
Eliot sat in the space
Of the part open barn doors
Where a corridor of light fell
Onto the dirt floor
And back into the implements
And parts of combines that
Lay in dust and lightstarved
Weeds. He was watching as
Swallows traced parallel paths
Through the width of air
Over the gable end of the barn
And to the mass of the trees
Growing into the yard.
They had a nest in the hollow
Of the roof and he watched
As they darted through the
Outer air to scream into the
Dark above him where their
Young made noises like the
Friction of minute axles.
He got up and walked in
The heavy air to the edge
Of the trees. They were swarming
With particles of dust and the
Bright forms of mosquitos.
After some minutes he went
Back inside the house and to
The dark of the kitchen and
The tile was cold and cold
Blue light swam before his eyes.
Of the part open barn doors
Where a corridor of light fell
Onto the dirt floor
And back into the implements
And parts of combines that
Lay in dust and lightstarved
Weeds. He was watching as
Swallows traced parallel paths
Through the width of air
Over the gable end of the barn
And to the mass of the trees
Growing into the yard.
They had a nest in the hollow
Of the roof and he watched
As they darted through the
Outer air to scream into the
Dark above him where their
Young made noises like the
Friction of minute axles.
He got up and walked in
The heavy air to the edge
Of the trees. They were swarming
With particles of dust and the
Bright forms of mosquitos.
After some minutes he went
Back inside the house and to
The dark of the kitchen and
The tile was cold and cold
Blue light swam before his eyes.
Wednesday 28 December 2011
158
I rode my bicycle through
The back fields slowly
And smoked a cigarette
And watched the small birds
Gather and lift as I
Ran them up from their
Ground under the stems
Of wheat. They would start
Up at intervals and fall
Back into it further from me
Like a tide was moving them.
Cinders fell from my smoke
Into the dark regimented
Crop and sailed down
As their fuel ended and the
Air sucked them out of it.
The cigarette was good.
It was an old bicycle
That had belonged to Eliot.
The chain would catch
And the brakes were worn
And there was some rust,
But it was a good bicycle.
I felt a little dizzy and
Stars were showing as it
Came down and the sparks
Fell into the ranked wheat.
I could not tell my speed
Or direction of if I was in motion
Because the stars were still.
The back fields slowly
And smoked a cigarette
And watched the small birds
Gather and lift as I
Ran them up from their
Ground under the stems
Of wheat. They would start
Up at intervals and fall
Back into it further from me
Like a tide was moving them.
Cinders fell from my smoke
Into the dark regimented
Crop and sailed down
As their fuel ended and the
Air sucked them out of it.
The cigarette was good.
It was an old bicycle
That had belonged to Eliot.
The chain would catch
And the brakes were worn
And there was some rust,
But it was a good bicycle.
I felt a little dizzy and
Stars were showing as it
Came down and the sparks
Fell into the ranked wheat.
I could not tell my speed
Or direction of if I was in motion
Because the stars were still.
157
We were following the track
Through the woods behind
The wheatfields. I could
See the whiteness of her
Dress in the blue dark
Dance like a candle as she
Skipped from the path to
The trees and back and
Ran on ahead down it.
We were going up a
Shallow incline, she kept on
Calling back to me my name,
And the wind would rise
Over her voice and the trees
Rush down into it.
We were always to be back
By dark, and it was
Already dark, and it was a
Long way back down
Through the woods and
Across the fields and she
Was going too far ahead so
I called for her to wait
But it was against the wind
And I don't know that
She heard me. So I ran
Through the billowing trees
And when I reached her she
Seemed to be half asleep.
White, under a dark beech.
Through the woods behind
The wheatfields. I could
See the whiteness of her
Dress in the blue dark
Dance like a candle as she
Skipped from the path to
The trees and back and
Ran on ahead down it.
We were going up a
Shallow incline, she kept on
Calling back to me my name,
And the wind would rise
Over her voice and the trees
Rush down into it.
We were always to be back
By dark, and it was
Already dark, and it was a
Long way back down
Through the woods and
Across the fields and she
Was going too far ahead so
I called for her to wait
But it was against the wind
And I don't know that
She heard me. So I ran
Through the billowing trees
And when I reached her she
Seemed to be half asleep.
White, under a dark beech.
156
There were white flowers
Swaying outside the kitchen
Window in the cold air
When I came down
From my bed. It had
Rained through the night but
Nothing was audible now
But the grass sighing as it
Layed down in the wind.
The silent flowers before
The empty grey sink were
Like a motion picture.
I came to the sink to
Wash my face and then
I looked over my hands
And several cuts on the
Knuckles, and I cracked them.
My father was asleep in his
Chair and the lamp at his
Side was weak in the
Daylight where it fell on
His hands upturned in
The pages of the newspaper.
There was a dried trail
Of saliva that made a contour
Down his jaw and to his
Collar. I shook him awake.
What time is it?
After seven. How is wheat?
It's fell. Help me up.
Swaying outside the kitchen
Window in the cold air
When I came down
From my bed. It had
Rained through the night but
Nothing was audible now
But the grass sighing as it
Layed down in the wind.
The silent flowers before
The empty grey sink were
Like a motion picture.
I came to the sink to
Wash my face and then
I looked over my hands
And several cuts on the
Knuckles, and I cracked them.
My father was asleep in his
Chair and the lamp at his
Side was weak in the
Daylight where it fell on
His hands upturned in
The pages of the newspaper.
There was a dried trail
Of saliva that made a contour
Down his jaw and to his
Collar. I shook him awake.
What time is it?
After seven. How is wheat?
It's fell. Help me up.
Tuesday 27 December 2011
155
The wound became infected
And in the end Hollis
Had to use the pneumatic
Stungun in the barn to
Kill it, and we strung it
Up from the crossbeam.
Dead, its musculature
Hung loose from the frame
Of its skeleton and it was
Possible to see the chamber
Of its ribcage and the
Sinews of its underbelly
Like the undercarriage
Of a motorcar or any other
Kind of outer chassis.
The eyes had glassed over
And the jaw hung loose
And the tongue was white.
It was not long dead and
Still hot enough that steam
Rose from it in the cold air.
Hollis smirked. He took a pole
From the wall and gouged
At its abdomen. It swung
And the rope creaked and
The beam and its shadow
Swung faintly on the wall.
I had bile in my throat and
I wanted to knock Hollis down,
And had to hold myself back.
And in the end Hollis
Had to use the pneumatic
Stungun in the barn to
Kill it, and we strung it
Up from the crossbeam.
Dead, its musculature
Hung loose from the frame
Of its skeleton and it was
Possible to see the chamber
Of its ribcage and the
Sinews of its underbelly
Like the undercarriage
Of a motorcar or any other
Kind of outer chassis.
The eyes had glassed over
And the jaw hung loose
And the tongue was white.
It was not long dead and
Still hot enough that steam
Rose from it in the cold air.
Hollis smirked. He took a pole
From the wall and gouged
At its abdomen. It swung
And the rope creaked and
The beam and its shadow
Swung faintly on the wall.
I had bile in my throat and
I wanted to knock Hollis down,
And had to hold myself back.
154
It had been lamed at
Some point during the night
In the foreleg and it was
Half-lying and struggling up
From the bank of the ditch
Below the fence in the mud
Of the end of the pasture.
It would stumble up and then
Lose purchase in the soil
And have to put weight
On the leg and slide
Back down in its own track.
There was blood darkening
On its leg and smeared
In the cold dew on the grass.
It was big, though still a
Calf, and its ragged fat was
Shuddering as it moved.
Gouts of its breath in the
Harsh air misted visibly
Like shalecoloured flowers.
I stared at it trying hard
To think how it had
Happened and what to do.
In the end I ran back and
Brought Silas and pa,
And we blinded it with a
Hessian sack over the head,
Bound the leg and hauled it
Out, bellowing like a walrus.
Some point during the night
In the foreleg and it was
Half-lying and struggling up
From the bank of the ditch
Below the fence in the mud
Of the end of the pasture.
It would stumble up and then
Lose purchase in the soil
And have to put weight
On the leg and slide
Back down in its own track.
There was blood darkening
On its leg and smeared
In the cold dew on the grass.
It was big, though still a
Calf, and its ragged fat was
Shuddering as it moved.
Gouts of its breath in the
Harsh air misted visibly
Like shalecoloured flowers.
I stared at it trying hard
To think how it had
Happened and what to do.
In the end I ran back and
Brought Silas and pa,
And we blinded it with a
Hessian sack over the head,
Bound the leg and hauled it
Out, bellowing like a walrus.
153
Johnny wake up.
Go to bed Dew, it's
Too late. Go to bed.
I can't get to sleep.
Five after two. Will
You just please go back
To your room. If you
Can't get to sleep just lie
There and count. Go on.
Is Lou really sick?
When you are old enough
To have to work, I am
Going to come in your
Room at stupid o'clock
And wake you up every
Night. Then you are
Going to be the sick one.
Yeah but Lou, is she sick.
Yeah, she's sick.
How bad is she?
I don't know. She's layed up.
Is she going to get better?
Dewey was slightly visible
Because there was some light
But he couldn't see John.
I don't know.
Okay. What about mama?
Well what about her.
I don't know. Okay, night.
Goodnight Dew. Go sleep.
Go to bed Dew, it's
Too late. Go to bed.
I can't get to sleep.
Five after two. Will
You just please go back
To your room. If you
Can't get to sleep just lie
There and count. Go on.
Is Lou really sick?
When you are old enough
To have to work, I am
Going to come in your
Room at stupid o'clock
And wake you up every
Night. Then you are
Going to be the sick one.
Yeah but Lou, is she sick.
Yeah, she's sick.
How bad is she?
I don't know. She's layed up.
Is she going to get better?
Dewey was slightly visible
Because there was some light
But he couldn't see John.
I don't know.
Okay. What about mama?
Well what about her.
I don't know. Okay, night.
Goodnight Dew. Go sleep.
Thursday 22 December 2011
151
I was out in the yard
And Dewey came in all
Dusty from the field and
He saw me but he went
Indoors. I was cleaning
My workcoat on the wall.
Silas came out and he
Spilled a pail from his
Doorway onto the flags.
The water weaved from
It and guttered to the
Leeside wall of the shed.
It was getting dark
And he looked up at me
His eyes bright and damp
From the houselight,
His bucket slung underarm
Smoking a short cigarette.
I looked at him and we
Walked over behind the
Shed and he handed me
One and lit it with a
Pocketbook match and threw
It out in the moving grass.
I sheltered it with my
Hands and smoked it and
He watched me smoke it and
Talked about his younger
Brother tired and oldly and
Smoked, looking on the field.
And Dewey came in all
Dusty from the field and
He saw me but he went
Indoors. I was cleaning
My workcoat on the wall.
Silas came out and he
Spilled a pail from his
Doorway onto the flags.
The water weaved from
It and guttered to the
Leeside wall of the shed.
It was getting dark
And he looked up at me
His eyes bright and damp
From the houselight,
His bucket slung underarm
Smoking a short cigarette.
I looked at him and we
Walked over behind the
Shed and he handed me
One and lit it with a
Pocketbook match and threw
It out in the moving grass.
I sheltered it with my
Hands and smoked it and
He watched me smoke it and
Talked about his younger
Brother tired and oldly and
Smoked, looking on the field.
150
I ran down out of
The woods into the rut
Of the track and went
Down it to the field
And got over the fence
And the cows at the end
Had their faces in the
Earth of the stream and
Turned to me passing on
Dripping and I crashed
Through the stream and
The bank and far fence
Cutting myself and I
Fell in the deep grass
And my wounds and I
Breathed in the hot grass.
My skin was wet and red.
I destroyed heads of
Dandelion and they swung
Into the air and I sat
As they made the dark line
Of the wood, and some
Were in my mouth like
White cotton. I breathed,
Slower. As I walked back
The dark was coming into
The cold of the stream and
The lights were aching down
Far away from the road
And it was still and tired.
The woods into the rut
Of the track and went
Down it to the field
And got over the fence
And the cows at the end
Had their faces in the
Earth of the stream and
Turned to me passing on
Dripping and I crashed
Through the stream and
The bank and far fence
Cutting myself and I
Fell in the deep grass
And my wounds and I
Breathed in the hot grass.
My skin was wet and red.
I destroyed heads of
Dandelion and they swung
Into the air and I sat
As they made the dark line
Of the wood, and some
Were in my mouth like
White cotton. I breathed,
Slower. As I walked back
The dark was coming into
The cold of the stream and
The lights were aching down
Far away from the road
And it was still and tired.
149
I would wake late in the
Night and hear shouting
Coming through the floor
And the long sound of
Ma crying and the fall of
Papa's boots on the timber
Of the kitchen floor.
The sound of his low talk
Was worse than the raised
Voices and I could hear
My chest going and pain
In my throat and bones.
The air was thick and hot
That summer and Lou
Was in the back room sick.
I knew John would be
Awake through the wall. He
Would hear their voices.
I would shudder for a long
Time and then go to sleep
And wake up hours later in
The damp and watch the first
Light and the sparrows cross
The air between the treetops
And I would lie out of the
Window with my head back
Below the ledge and the sky
Under me. A soft rain and
My breathing and the last stars
And the air was in a cage.
Night and hear shouting
Coming through the floor
And the long sound of
Ma crying and the fall of
Papa's boots on the timber
Of the kitchen floor.
The sound of his low talk
Was worse than the raised
Voices and I could hear
My chest going and pain
In my throat and bones.
The air was thick and hot
That summer and Lou
Was in the back room sick.
I knew John would be
Awake through the wall. He
Would hear their voices.
I would shudder for a long
Time and then go to sleep
And wake up hours later in
The damp and watch the first
Light and the sparrows cross
The air between the treetops
And I would lie out of the
Window with my head back
Below the ledge and the sky
Under me. A soft rain and
My breathing and the last stars
And the air was in a cage.
Tuesday 20 December 2011
148
I would wake up before
Eliot or ma or pa or Silas
And sit and drink a glass
Of water at the table
And wash the glass and go
Out in the half light
Past the sheds of half
Woken animals where they
Moved in their dark hay
And through the pasture
And the horse stood asleep
To the edge of the woods.
The birds used to wake so
Early, and sing and call
For hours. I would go into
The trees where they were
Moving and they sounded
Like a great quiet machine.
The woods seemed to fall
And sigh to me like the sea.
I would come back
Where Silas was putting
His overalls on in the
Grey yard and he would grin
His white teeth and pink
Lips and dark skin and say
Get you inside young boy.
Standing in white dirty
Overalls and bare feet in
The pale cream of light.
Eliot or ma or pa or Silas
And sit and drink a glass
Of water at the table
And wash the glass and go
Out in the half light
Past the sheds of half
Woken animals where they
Moved in their dark hay
And through the pasture
And the horse stood asleep
To the edge of the woods.
The birds used to wake so
Early, and sing and call
For hours. I would go into
The trees where they were
Moving and they sounded
Like a great quiet machine.
The woods seemed to fall
And sigh to me like the sea.
I would come back
Where Silas was putting
His overalls on in the
Grey yard and he would grin
His white teeth and pink
Lips and dark skin and say
Get you inside young boy.
Standing in white dirty
Overalls and bare feet in
The pale cream of light.
147
Eliot used to run away
In the woods up the
Hill behind the house some
Nights and I would lie
And listen to papa getting
Up and speaking to ma
And the lights come on
In the hall and water
Sounding in the tin basin,
And papa and Silas would
Go out and the door
Would clatter in its frame
As their lights climbed
The hill in darting
And broken-up raybeams.
Their voices would be soft
In the woods and I knew
That ma was still asleep.
I would wake up to
Papa crashing around with
Eliot and Eliot yelling at
Him. His teary, shaking
Childvoice. I would watch
Out the window Silas lock
The outside door and walk
Across the yard to where he
Slept and his light vanish.
Ma would come in and
I was not asleep but still
And lean in and kiss me.
In the woods up the
Hill behind the house some
Nights and I would lie
And listen to papa getting
Up and speaking to ma
And the lights come on
In the hall and water
Sounding in the tin basin,
And papa and Silas would
Go out and the door
Would clatter in its frame
As their lights climbed
The hill in darting
And broken-up raybeams.
Their voices would be soft
In the woods and I knew
That ma was still asleep.
I would wake up to
Papa crashing around with
Eliot and Eliot yelling at
Him. His teary, shaking
Childvoice. I would watch
Out the window Silas lock
The outside door and walk
Across the yard to where he
Slept and his light vanish.
Ma would come in and
I was not asleep but still
And lean in and kiss me.
Monday 19 December 2011
146
For Eliot the shapes of
Them all fled before him
And his body fled from
Him and the light was
Dark and bright in the
Chipped plaster coving and
The ceiling was low like
A shell and their faces flew
Away in his tremors.
For John looking at
Eliot convulsing on the bed
The shape of him was all
There was as if his
Whole had broken into
Only several white motions.
And the light too for
Him was hollow like in
A shell with a candleflame.
But it was hallowed in
The light of what he could
Not know what it was:
Death. The blue hills and
Far off broken mountains
Veered in rain in the candle-
Light from the half drawn
Drapes of bleached silk, the
Membrane of doily cotton.
The rucked up bedclothes
Looked to John like wings
At his brother's shoulders.
Them all fled before him
And his body fled from
Him and the light was
Dark and bright in the
Chipped plaster coving and
The ceiling was low like
A shell and their faces flew
Away in his tremors.
For John looking at
Eliot convulsing on the bed
The shape of him was all
There was as if his
Whole had broken into
Only several white motions.
And the light too for
Him was hollow like in
A shell with a candleflame.
But it was hallowed in
The light of what he could
Not know what it was:
Death. The blue hills and
Far off broken mountains
Veered in rain in the candle-
Light from the half drawn
Drapes of bleached silk, the
Membrane of doily cotton.
The rucked up bedclothes
Looked to John like wings
At his brother's shoulders.
145
Eliot was younger than
Me by two years and he
Was a year dead before
Ma had Lou and then
Dewey a year after that.
Dew was born with gold
Hair and bright as a fat
Clean potato and our
Father was very glad.
Lou caught a fever about
A year or so ago and
She died of it and father
Has still not come back
From the walk he went on
For several hours that
Night, though he sits
Each morning at his
Cereal bowl plain enough.
The milk in his beard
Very white and his eyes
Empty and cornflower blue.
Lou's room is still vacant.
I have my own room
And Dewey sleeps in Eliot's
Though he sometimes comes to
Mine in the night, his head
Afire white and blonde in
The darkness. He is
A frail and beautiful
And lonely old kid.
Me by two years and he
Was a year dead before
Ma had Lou and then
Dewey a year after that.
Dew was born with gold
Hair and bright as a fat
Clean potato and our
Father was very glad.
Lou caught a fever about
A year or so ago and
She died of it and father
Has still not come back
From the walk he went on
For several hours that
Night, though he sits
Each morning at his
Cereal bowl plain enough.
The milk in his beard
Very white and his eyes
Empty and cornflower blue.
Lou's room is still vacant.
I have my own room
And Dewey sleeps in Eliot's
Though he sometimes comes to
Mine in the night, his head
Afire white and blonde in
The darkness. He is
A frail and beautiful
And lonely old kid.
144
We carried Eliot to bed
In the lap of our
Arms, mounted the stairs
And him a shivering
White shape with his
Fat yellow teeth biting at
Nothing in the dimness
Of the passage and his
Body in a white sheet
Scattered with dry oats
He had been eating at
The table in papa's chair.
He had been convulsing
For a half hour and ma
Had laid him down on
The plain clean tile
And poured milk through
His bloody, bitten lips
Before we tried to
Move him at all.
It was the evening.
He had always been
A pale sickly kid,
Born late and badly.
The doctor had looked
At him for only a
Minute before he spoke.
This was several years
Before Dewey or my sister
Lou had been born.
In the lap of our
Arms, mounted the stairs
And him a shivering
White shape with his
Fat yellow teeth biting at
Nothing in the dimness
Of the passage and his
Body in a white sheet
Scattered with dry oats
He had been eating at
The table in papa's chair.
He had been convulsing
For a half hour and ma
Had laid him down on
The plain clean tile
And poured milk through
His bloody, bitten lips
Before we tried to
Move him at all.
It was the evening.
He had always been
A pale sickly kid,
Born late and badly.
The doctor had looked
At him for only a
Minute before he spoke.
This was several years
Before Dewey or my sister
Lou had been born.
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