hnaldus
Reefs
ALSO BY
ERIC BASSO
FROM
SIX GALLERY PRESS
POETRY
Earthworks
FROM
ASYLUM ARTS PRESS
FICTION
The Beak Doctor
Bartholomew Fair
POETRY
Accidental Monsters
Umbra
The Catwalk Watch
The Smoking Mirror
Catafalques
Ghost Light
DRAMA
Enigmas
The Golem Triptych
The Sabattier Effect
ESSAYS
Decompositions
DREAMS
Revagations
ERIC BASSO
Tr;~a(dus
~
Reefs
OBUSCURE PUBLICATIONS ~ 2010
Poems2009
Copyright © 2010 by Eric Basso
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmit-ted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including pho-tocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, withoutpermission in writing from the publisher, except for brief quotes in reviews.
Some of the poems first appeared in the following publications, to whose edi-tors grateful acknowledgement is made: The Bicycle Review, Blackbird, DanseMacabre, Leaf Garden, Luciole Press, Manorborn, Outsider Writers Collective,Poets ~ar Prada. The "Shoals," "Petroglyphs" and "Bestiary" poems first ap-peared as limited-edition chapbooks from Obscure Publications.
Basso, Eric, 1947-Ytimaldus / Reefi
Printed in The United States of America.
Cover montage by the author (2009).
H.C.
OBSCURE PUBLICATIONS
307 RIvER STREET, APT. IS
BLACK RIVER FALLS, WI 54615
Contents
TRlMALDUS
The Meeting 3
Night Purchase 4
Paintings 5
The Masks 6
A Condor's Sleep 8
The Spindle 9
Barrier II
Windows 13
Interregnum 15
Catacombs I 16
Catacombs II 18
Catacombs III 20
Catacombs IV 21
Catacombs V 23
Catacombs VI 25
Catacombs VII 27
Catacombs VIII 29
Catacombs IX 31
Catacombs X 33
Ghosts 34
The Inverted Pyramid
Fish Ivory
The Likewise Image
Secular Superstition
Sagittarius
Swine Wallow
Remember to Forget
REEFS
39
41
43
45
47
4 8
51
TRlMALDUS
January I, 2009
The Meeting
that first day I saw himjust another face in the crowd
never cared for poets he saidthey are slippery fish
told me he'd been in the warbut when I asked him about ithe could remember nothing
all memory was gone and hadtaken fear and blood with it
poet my conscience is clearbut you have yet tocome out of your dream
4 ERIC BASSO
Night Purchase
even on crowded streets he couldhear the whales' song judderingthrough the deeps of distant oceans
it echoed off his bedroom wallskept him awake for hours floatingdark above the ancient wreckswide eyed but sightless ofall the sunken argosies
I told him it was a delusionhe looked at me with stranger's eyespointed out the window at a manstaggering and about to fall
in a corner no light could reachsomething lurched and I knewthere were other thingsthings he could not say
January 7, 2009
Trimafdus
Paintings
he told me paintings bothered himnot just the bird traps of Brueghelthose wood boxes propped by a plank
even a pink silk cuff by Watteauthe sewing needle that wasnever painted in by Vermeera cloud above Constable's hay wainbecame emblems of his torment
he came to my rooms one nightclaimed there was an aberrationin every so-called masterpiecewith such conviction thatI had to believe him
I go to the galleries nowsearching out his ghostsbut the fleck of one stray strokethe oiled nuance remains invisibleeven to the illusion it creates
January 27, 2009
6 ERIC BASSO
The Masks
Oscar Wilde wrotegive a man a maskand he'll tell you the truthbut what if a man hasa multitude of masks
I followed Trimaldusto the cellarhe lifted a trap doorwe went farther down
masks were arrangedon a long table coveredwith blue baize
fourteen eyeless effigieseach waiting to coolthe agony ofsome searing truth
I picked one upand put it on
February 7,2009
Trimaldus
as my breath shallowedTrimaldus whisperednow you can tell meeverything
7
8 ERIC BASSO
A Condor's Sleep
when I finished my confessionTrimaldus said our eyes becomethe false part of each mask we wear
some of us dig our own gravesthe rest have theirs dug for themanother mask and you would havetold me a different story altogether
every explorer ant must rememberthe number of steps it's takento find its way back to the colony
but ours is the colony of masksto which there can be no returningwe stumble through a condor's sleepas it wings between two clouds
February 20, 2009
Trimaldus
The Spindle
he aimed his penlight ata crevice in the sidewalk
do you see that antwhat's it doing up so late
I followed Trimaldus into the Spindlecandled chandeliers flickered the tablesdistant balconies through a cigarette hazestained wood and a sawdust floorreeking of crushed peanut shellswhores' perfume and soured beer
I'd really love this place he saidif it were not for the music
that ant outside could be the ancestorto the next race of dinosaursor sink into oblivion like allthe conquerors and geniuseswhose luck ran foul
it was more than enoughfor us to make a meal ofto drink ourselves into stupor
9
10 ERIC BASSO
for me this was the first of nightswhere sleep brought with ita Darwinian acceptance thatTrimaldus and I would never beamong the fittest for survival
February 21, 2009
Trimaldus
Barrier
that scent of oiled rubberthe inside of a cab I knew iteven before my eyes opened
the last thing I rememberedTrimaldus' face a blurfloating toward the chandelierhis headless trunk slammedthe table and slid to the floordragging a mug of beer with it
I lay on the musty floorboardsquinting up at him after a bumpin the road punched me awake
I'm not taking you home he saidthere's a house outside the citythat needs to be seen nowby both of us if you're everto know me well at all
we came to a screeching haltbefore a picket barrieron a scrubland hill just asthe sun was rising at our back
II
12
March 9, 2009
ERIC BASSO
I tumbled out of the cab dazedhe hoisted me up then pointedto the only house for miles
fire shot into our eyesfrom a windowpane
he told me that sheet of glassthe only one left unshatteredwas too much like his dead wife
the reflection in a windowwhich blinds you from seeingthere's no one within
Trimaldus
Windows
tripping through the thicketsI had no idea where Trimalduswas taking me
it's not much farther he saidI wanted to show you a windowbathed in the Ganges butyou'll have to settlefor something less
how could I have knownit was far from less
jewels were flaringcolors in the darkwe'd been walking all daythe sun had set beforewe reached our destination
I forgot my hunger and thirstnothing for us now butthose floating jewels
are you brave enough to peerthrough these lenses he asked
13
14
March 18, 2009
ERIC BASSO
I put my eye to the sapphirea window that opened onan image I could not recognize
we looked into the bowelsof an abandoned shackmisted by ghosts oflivesthat were not our own
Trimaldus caught his breathI heard him falling intothe high weeds
through my window's jewelI saw a weasel crouchedat the foot of a birch
Trimaldus was gaspinghe had seen somethingfar more terrible
he stammeredwhat sort of mando you think I am whowould bring a friendto a place like this
April 13. 2009
Trimaldus
Interregnum
the interregnum was a sleepTrimaldus told me laterhe carried a serrated knife inhis dreams and killed any manwho tried to rip the mask fromthat world of illusions
this second life came to meanmore to him than any wakingback to an existence he neverclaimed to have understood
dreams became a pastmore real than his ownthe struts of a bridgetremoring under him ashe held the one womanwho would have givenlife a meaning and felther melt away
16 ERIC BASSO
Catacombs I
three days and nights in bedbut even after the crisis passedhe said strange things to me
asked who first claimed a horseseen from above resembled a violininsisted something in the beer wehad at Gertrude's stilted his memorythough I could not rememberour last drink there
I didn't believe it when hetold me the house we were instrutted a maze of catacombs
Trimaldus smiled as he led medown to that room wherethe masks had been laid outnot a single mask remainedI didn't bother to askwhat became of them
a low door in a corner lacedwith a curtain of cobwebsno stairs but a narrow chute
April 20, 2009
Trimaldus
he slid down firsthis lantern dwindledseemed to flicker out
18 ERIC BASSO
Catacombs II
I shouted after himmy voice echoed backfrom the empty darkbut a few seconds latera faint slam reached mefrom far below soundingthe base of a blind abyss
I knew Trimaldus was waitingswung myself into the chuteand the swift descending
a left curve slowed me downthe chute banked and leveled tilla sudden dip took my breath away
I shut my eyes againstthe rising wind untila maze of banked curvesand a second levelingrocked me to the bottom
it felt as if a monthhad come and gone
May 13, 2009
Trimaldus
Trimaldus'voice trickled upfrom the cavernous floor
lie still for a few minutes morewe are farther down thanyou could possibly believe
20
May 23, 2009
ERIC BASSO
Catacombs III
if flesh is the fabric of bonethis was a place stripped nakedcorridors ofyellowed nuditypeeled of their stench of rottoo many centuries ago
we stumbled through channelswalled by skulls that writhed tothe flicker ofTrimaldus' lantern
as he led me on I grabbed himby the scruff of his collarand walked with eyes shutto the silenced multitudethat seemed to close us in
stay here too long Trimaldus saidyou'll begin to think you hearour cold companions whisperingconspiring with one anotheras if they knew some secretwe can never hope to knowthe discovery no explorer everwants to make so keep moving
Trimaldus
Catacombs IV
that meandering drone in the earoscillation of the whispers' echowithout the whispers
the skulls' fretal murmurwould soon reach articulationjust as Trimaldus had predicted
I hoped for no more turningsthat we were coming to the lastof those hideous bone walls
now his lantern burned blueI feared it would be snuffedby the thickening airthat we were left towander blind below earthtill hunger and death took us
a black space openedsuddenly the air warmedthe lamp burned brighterbut made no dent in the dark
21
22
May 29,2009
ERIC BASSO
we had passed the labyrinth ofcharnel corridors to arrivein a depthless limbo
I wanted to turn backregretting everything
there was no way backTrimaldus regretted nothing
Trimafdus
Catacombs V
ever seen a dead birdor even the bones of onewhere do they go to diea woman came down herelooking for her imaginary lovershe vanished without a trace
I couldn't understand whatTrimaldus was trying to tell methought the sudden change of airmust have made him giddythen he pointed at his feet
faint scorings in the floorresembled the ghosts of leopardsthis glyphic caravan appearedto point the way for us
it should be all right nowthese markings are NeolithicTrimaldus whispered askingwhat animal they suggestedbut I did not answer
23
24
June I5, 2009
ERIC BASSO
to him the leopards I sawlooked like lions spotted onlybecause much of the paint thatshaped them had been worn awayby centuries ofdark arrested time
don't stare for long he saidthe lions might go blindeven in this dim lightand begin to dance
Trimaldus
Catacombs VI
the last gray leopard gave way toa blood colored dot in the distance
we ran toward what looked likea low window before sensingthe slight slope of the groundhad created an illusion
no window but a square hatchwaywe stooped and entered a shrine
Trimaldus passed his lamp to mehe whispered set it down outsideno need for our light here
the ruddy glow seeped fromthe corners of stippled wallswhose pinlike shadowsconverged in engulfing gloom
we stumbled over pebbleshe held one in his handa smoothness tattooedwith indecipherable markings
26
June 26,2009
ERIC BASSO
then suddenly dropped itpointing to something wecould find no word for
Trimaldus
Catacombs VII
the rib cage of a long dead giantfloated a few feet from the floorand the murk fell further away
it was all we could see for time itselfseemed as suspended as that rackof curved blood tinted bones
Trimaldus broke the silencethis is a shrine he stammeredwe're standing in an ancient shrine
still a little less of the darkour eyes were peelingshadows layer by layer
what we had taken for ribs wereseven sets of S-shaped hornsprojecting from the sides of a bench
a gutter snaked from its footto a rectangular pit inthe heart of the shrine
27
lilly 9, 2009
ERIC BAsSO
Trimaldus struck a matchnear one of the walls lightinga skull in a niche from below
that bench and the rest of itcan only mean one thinghuman sacrifice
he blew out the matchsniffing its ribbon of smokeI looked at the bench again
it's not long enough I answeredhe shut his eyes and gaspedchildren
Trimaldus
Catacombs VIn
blue blisters sparkled in the floorand made a night sky at our feet
we'd lost track of how long it hadtaken us to run from the red shrineto these flaring stars becausethe vision of that horn caged altarstreamed with blood in our memory
Trimaldus and I pushed forwardmore slowly now we watchedthe blue stars spread and meltinto one another turning wetas the floor sunk beneath them
dank water covered our shoeshiding the long step down thattoppled us into a racing current
just enough light from the lampTrimaldus was still clutchingas we were swept towardthe roaring precipice whichwould be our certain doom
29
3°
July 2 I, 2009
ERIC BASSO
we fell in a rush of noise and foamthe last thing I saw before my deathwas how the lamp arced slowlytoward its own intimate darkness
Trimaldus
Catacombs IX
now there was onlya distant pin of purpleglimpsed from behinda noiseless water curtain
so this is it I thoughtlying there on my sidethose falls are a shroudfor a dying star
why can't we hear itit was Trimaldus' voice
are you thereyes I'm herewhereI don't knowand youI don't know
bruised fingers burstthrough the waterfallI recognized his ring
31
July 29, 2009
ERIC BASSO
I can't feel the waterhe cried as the watersheeted his hand
I took it and waspulled into a wallof drenching silence
August 4, 2009
Trimaldus
Catacombs X
the purple beam threw backa blind space for gropinga patch of uneven groundwhere we staggered towardan unforgiving eternity thatcould crack the blackest heaven
a few steps more and we sawit was a lamp lighting the faceof a man in a tattered shroud
who are youask me who I waswho were you then
they tell me my namewas Orpheus
33
34 ERIC BASSO
Ghosts
the one who called himself Orpheusstared right through us as he spoke
you are figments of my imaginationmere players in the long paradeof dreams into which I fellwith no hope of a waking unlessit be to other deeper dreamsfor we are standing inthe place that occults nightcore of the darkest star imaginableand this is what it truly meansto have given up the ghost
neither Trimaldus nor I believeda word of this or that the strangerwith the purple lamp wasthe man he claimed to be
the stranger asked how we wouldaccount for the things we'd seen orthe impossible string of adventuresthat had dragged us intowhat he called his black orbit
Trimaldus
for the first time he lookeddirectly into Trimaldus' eyes
do you really think there wasa descending maze ofcatacombsunder your house or that you'veever lived anywhere but in imaginedrooms or roamed streets whichwhose corners once turneddid not instantly perish to oblivion
August 12,20°9
35
~ REEFS
The Inverted Pyramid
time was running backwardat first it went unnoticed that wewere all slowly growing younger
liver spots paled as veins recededbeneath smoother firmer fleshthe dulled passions sharpenedto cloud our judgment once again
the home computer disappearedand with so many other thingswe had long taken for grantedit became a thing of the past
but as newer things vanishedolder things reappeared
one by one the dead returnedwe repossessed a happinesstheir loss had taken from us
fewer and fewer empty chairsaround the table as the hauntingsthat had blighted our livesslipped back behind the wallsand were gratefully forgotten
4° ERIC BASSO
the standard of living becamegreater in some respectsand worse in others
food and drink tastedbetter than they had in agestheir aromas mingled withother smells and savors thatrecalled us to a time pastwhich was now our present
you'd have thought people wouldbe walking and talking backwardbut that isn't how it goesand no one knows or cares why
we'll soon come home to childhoodweighted by decades of experiencebut no better wisdom than before
September 16,2009
Reefs
Fish Ivory
the day the Colonel's statuestepped down from its plinthand walked off in the fogmy friend crouched at the curband touched something theresomething I could not see
later we learned about howthe stone gods of Easter Islandsuddenly shed the mossthat furred them for centuriesand became convinced therewas some connection betweenthis and the thing our friendhad snatched from the curband carried to his house
at first the object had no namehe kept the thing in his atticand would bring it downonce a year to show ushow much it changed
a change so drastic we'd havebelieved our friend was
42 ERIC BASSO
palming off something differenton us each year if it weren'tfor the fact that the objectvaguely retained a vestige ofthe last form it had taken
this all happened so long agoI am now among a very fewsurvivors of the yearly ritualin which we viewed what cameto be called the Fish Ivory fora reason no one remembers
September 29, 2009
Reefs
The Likewise Image
a face powdered with white chalkfollows me in mirrors wherever I go
a body that isn't mine is wearingmy clothes beneath the neckof the face in the mirrorshirts vests jackets trouserswhich are a perfect fitbut far too large for me
the image pursues me from belowshivering in ponds and puddlesshrouded by the tinted murkof polished cabinets and tablesstretched or squinched beyondall endurance behind stainedconcavities and convexities
my plan now is to avoid itto focus only on the dullestor roughest surfaceshoping the likewise image willeventually give up the ghostand set my real reflection freefrom the trap or cell or trunk
43
44
November II, 2009
ERIC BASSO
which has been its prisonfor so many years withinthat vaster prison we callthe Other Side
Reefs
Secular Superstition
shortly before embarking onwhat was intended to be anexploration of the Dark ContinentI decided to move in with a familyof middle aged brothers and sisters
I boldly knocked on their doorthey had never seen me beforeor heard anything of my exploitsbut made no effort to prevent mefrom entering the gabled housesettling in to become the brotherwho'd returned after years abroadwith a trunk of exotic souvenirsand a string of tales to match
like my acquired siblings I soonmastered the art of forgettingabandoned all idea ofcontinentalexploration in order to explorethe infinite mysteries of this house
so many books here in languageswe can never hope to understandthough months have been spentattempting to decipher a single page
45
ERIC BASSO
in one of the bedrooms a closet dooropens on a flagstoned path to an alleythat vanished over a century ago
on autumn nights the wind rattlesthe shutters and the Mad King'slaughter drifts up from the cellar
October 26, 2009
Reefs
Sagittarius
no one can say exactly when or wherethe ground began to shrink beneath us
we have put down traps everywherebraces to rein back the inevitablethe wooden ones shattered in an hourthose of bronze or steel hold out fora day before their shape yields tothe seismic crush and this is howour town has come to be a vastabstract sculpture garden
at night when spit and dustfill the little houses a fog liesin the moorland hollows thatcarries the smell of a dyinginto the dull morning mist
November 28, 2009
47
ERIC BASSO
Swine Wallow
an early snow fell meltingin the mud and weeds as Ipassed by the swine wallow
beyond the hulk of a stubble hillsmoke from a hidden chimneythreaded the chill and fadedunder the low gray sky
the hogs huddled for warmthin a corner of the penthe trough was emptytheir oozing snouts rootedat the slime from hunger
as I walked away the squealsand the grunts subsided toan unearthly hum anda hoarse mumbling thatsounded like a human voice
I turned and looked backno one stood there to matchthe voice unless someone was
Reefs
lying in muck behind the pigscalling after me too wealdy forhis words to be understood
nearing that stench againI saw the swine break huddlearound their palest companionand stand transfixed bythe deep buzz of moaningthey sustained as he tolda tale too sad to bear alone
long ago these pigs were mensailing for home in a shipglutted with spoils fromthe Dardanian War
low on food and provisionsthey dropped anchor on an isleand there met everlasting doom
philosophers say it's hardfor love to last longas all love comes unwilledand with will restoredis easily set aside
imagine then the curse thatcooked the hopeless will to loveinto the food these men wereserved to appease hunger
49
5° ERIC BASSO
with starvation for theirformer lives and bodies
they call her Poison Qyeenshe fed them bitter acornsand all their strength of mindwas bred out as love grewcondemned to the wallow forever
long after Circe was erasedby the god that usurpedthe old gods' placethey loved herand love her still
Odysseus never found Ithaca againnever returned to chaste Penelope
Circe's spell still feedson this despairing lovepeering through its blind windowas the wet snow fallstill time sweeps history away
December 5, 2009
Reefs
Remember to Forget
remember to forgetforget to rememberit comes to the same thing
for the one who never wantsto see her face again evenin the cloudiest mirrorremember to forget
for the mouldings inthat old dark roomand the one who came backwithout knowing who or whathe came back forremember to forget
remember to forgetthe frozen handsthe failed dig to unearththe color no one has seen
remember to forgetyou can no longerbelieve in anything
51
October I2, 2009
forget to remember the deadwho have forgotten everything
the gibbous moon wanesthere will never be anotherremember to forget
ERIC BASSO was born in Baltimore in 1947. Barbarous&diates is his eighth collection of poems.His work has ap-peared in Bakunin, the Chicago Review, CentralPark, Collages& Bricolages, Fiction International, Exquisite Corpse, andmany other publications. His novel, Bartholomew Fair, isavailable from Asylum Arts. He is the author of twenty-oneplays. His critically-acclaimed drama trilogy, The GolemTriptych; the complete short plays, Enigmas; his play, TheSabattier Effict; a book of short fiction, The Beak Doctor,and six collections of poetry, Accidental Monsters, Umbra,The Catwalk Watch, The Smoking Mirror, Catafalques andGhost Light, are available from Asylum Arts, along withDecompositions: Essays on Art & Literature 1973-1989 andRevagaions: 1966-1974, the first volume ofhis book ofdreams.
Basso's seventh collection of poems, Earthworks, was pub-lished by Six Gallery Press in 2008.
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