New Year on Dartmoor

8/10/2019 New Year on Dartmoor

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New Year on DartmoorThis is newness : every little tawdryObstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar,

Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only youDon't know what to ake of the sudden slippiness,The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant.There's no getting up it by the words you know.

!o getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe."e have only co e to look. #ou are too newTo want the world in a glass hat.

Three Women$ %oe for Three &oices

etting: $ (aternity "ard and round about)*+ T &O* :* a slow as the world. * a very patient,Turning through y ti e, the suns and stars+egarding e with attention.The oon's concern is ore personal:

he passes and repasses, lu inous as a nurse.*s she sorry for what will happen * do not think so.

he is si ply astonished at fertility.

"hen * walk out, * a a great event.* do not have to think, or even rehearse."hat happens in e will happen without attention.The pheasant stands on the hill/0e is arranging his brown feathers.* cannot help s iling at what it is * know.1eaves and petals attend e. * a ready.

O!D &O* :"hen * first saw it, the s all red seep, * did not believe it.* watched the en walk about e in the office. They were so flat2There was so ething about the like cardboard, and now * had caught it,That flat, flat, flatness fro which ideas, destructions,3ulldo4ers, guillotines, white cha bers of shrieks proceed,

ndlessly proceed--and the cold angels, the abstractions.* sat at y desk in y stockings, y high heels,

$nd the an * work for laughed: '0ave you seen so ething awful#ou are so white, suddenly.' $nd * said nothing.* saw death in the bare trees, a deprivation.* could not believe it. *s it so difficult)or the spirit to conceive a face, a outhThe letters proceed fro these black keys, and these black keys proceed)ro y alphabetical fingers, ordering parts,


2/34

%arts, bits, cogs, the shining ultiples. * a dying as * sit. * lose a di ension.Trains roar in y ears, departures, departures2The silver track of ti e e pties into the distance,The white sky e pties of its pro ise, like a cup.

These are y feet, these echanical echoes.Tap, tap, tap, steel pegs. * a found wanting.

This is a disease * carry ho e, this is a death.$gain, this is a death. *s it the air,The particles of destruction * suck up $ * a pulseThat wanes and wanes, facing the cold angel*s this y lover then This death, this death$s a child * loved a lichen-bitten na e.*s this the one sin then, this old dead love of death

T0*+D &O* :* re e ber the inute when * knew for sure.The willows were chilling,The face in the pool was beautiful, but not ine--*t had a conse5uential look, like everything else,$nd all * could see was dangers: doves and words,

tars and showers of gold--conceptions, conceptions2* re e ber a white, cold wing

$nd the great swan, with its terrible look,o ing at e, like a castle, fro the top of the river.

There is a snake in swans.0e glided by/ his eye had a black eaning.* saw the world in it--s all, ean and black,

very little word hooked to every little word, and act to act.$ hot blue day had budded into so ething.

* wasn't ready. The white clouds rearing$side were dragging e in four directions.* wasn't ready.* had no reverence.

* thought * could deny the conse5uence--3ut it was too late for that. *t was too late, and the face"ent on shaping itself with love, as if * was ready.

O!D &O* :*t is a world of snow now. * a not at ho e.0ow white these sheets are. The faces have no features.They are bald and i possible, like the faces of y children,Those little sick ones that elude y ar s.Other children do not touch e: they are terrible.They have too any colors, too uch life. They are not 5uiet,

6uiet, like the little e ptinesses * carry.


3/34

* have had y chances. * have tried and tried.* have stitched life into e like a rare organ,$nd walked carefully, precariously, like so ething rare.* have tried not to think too hard. * have tried to be natural.* have tried to be blind in love, like other wo en,

3lind in y bed, with y dear blind sweet one, !ot looking, through the thick dark, for the face of another.

* did not look. 3ut still the face was there,The face of the unborn one that loved its perfections,The face of the dead one that could only be perfect*n its easy peace, could only keep holy so.$nd then there were other faces. The faces of nations,Govern ents, parlia ents, societies,The faceless faces of i portant en.

*t is these en * ind:They are so 7ealous of anything that is not flat2 They are 7ealous godsThat would have the whole world flat because they are.* see the )ather conversing with the on.

uch flatness cannot but be holy.'1et us ake a heaven,' they say.'1et us flatten and launder the grossness fro these souls.'

)*+ T &O* :* a cal . * a cal . *t is the cal before so ething awful:The yellow inute before the wind walks, when the leavesTurn up their hands, their pallors. *t is so 5uiet here.The sheets, the faces, are white and stopped, like clocks.&oices stand back and flatten. Their visible hieroglyphs)latten to parch ent screens to keep the wind off.They paint such secrets in $rabic, hinese2

* a du b and brown. * a a seed about to break.The brownness is y dead self, and it is sullen:*t does not wish to be ore, or different.Dusk hoods e in blue now, like a (ary.

O color of distnace and forgetfulness2--"hen will it be, the second when Ti e breaks$nd eternity engulfs it, and * drown utterly

* talk to yself, yself only, set apart--wabbed and lurid with disinfectants, sacrificial.

"aiting lies heavy on y lids. *t lies like sleep,1ike a big sea. )ar off, far off, * feel the first wave tug*ts cargo of agony toward e, inescapable, tidal.$nd *, a shell, echoing on this white beach)ace the voices that overwhel , the terrible ele ent.


4/34

T0*+D &O* :* a a ountain now, a ong ountainy wo en.The doctors ove a ong us as if our bigness)rightened the ind. They s ile like fools.They are to bla e for what * a , and they know it.

They hug their flatness like a kind of health.$nd what if they found the selves surprised, as * didThey would go ad with it.

$nd what if two lives leaked between y thighs* have seen the white clean cha ber with its instru ents.*t is a place of shrieks. *t is not happy.'This is where you will co e when you are ready.'The night lights are flat red oons. They are dull with blood.* a not ready for anything to happen.* should have urdered this, that urders e.

)*+ T &O* :There is no iracle ore cruel than this.* a dragged by the horses, the iron hooves.* last. * last it out. * acco plish a work.Dark tunnel, through which hurtle the visitations,The visitations, the anifestations, the startled faces.* a the center of an atrocity."hat pains, what sorrows ust * be othering

an such innocence kill and kill *t ilks y life.The trees wither in the street. The rain is corrosive.* taste it on y tongue, and the workable horrors,The horrors that stand and idle, the slighted god others"ith their hearts that tick and tick, with their satchels of instru ents.* shall be a wall and a roof, protecting.* shall be a sky and a hill of good: O let e be2

$ power is growing on e, an old tenacity.* a breaking apart like the world. There is this blackness,This ra of blackness. * fold y hands on a ountain.

The air is thick. *t is thick with this working.* a used. * a dru ed into use.(y eyes are s5uee4ed by this blackness.* see nothing.

O!D &O* :* a accused. * drea of assacres.* a a garden of black and red agonies. * drink the ,0ating yself, hating and fearing. $nd now the world conceives*ts end and runs toward it, ar s held out in love.*t is a love of death that sickens everything.

$ dead sun stains the newsprint. *t is red.* lose life after life. The dark earth drinks the .


5/34

he is the va pire of us all. o she supports us,)attens us, is kind. 0er outh is red.* know her. * know her inti ately--Old winter-face, old barren one, old ti e bo b.(en have used her eanly. he will eat the .

at the , eat the , eat the in the end.The sun is down. * die. * ake a death.

)*+ T &O* :"ho is he, this blue, furious boy,

hiny and strange, as if he had hurtled fro a star0e is looking so angrily20e flew into the roo , a shriek at his heel.The blue color pales. 0e is hu an after all.$ red lotus opens in its bowl of blood/They are stitching e up with silk, as if * were a aterial.

"hat did y fingers do before they held hi"hat did y heart do, with its love* have never seen a thing so clear.0is lids are like the lilac-flower $nd soft as a oth, his breath.* shall not let go.There is no guile or warp in hi . (ay he keep so.

O!D &O* :There is the oon in the high window. *t is over.0ow winter fills y soul2 $nd that chalk light1aying its scales on the windows, the windows of e pty offices,

pty schoolroo s, e pty churches. O so uch e ptiness2There is this cessation. This terrible cessation of everything.These bodies ounded around e now, these polar sleepers--"hat blue, oony ray ices their drea s

* feel it enter e, cold, alien, like an instru ent.$nd that ad, hard face at the end of it, that O- outhOpen in its gape of perpetual grieving.

*t is she that drags the blood-black sea around(onth after onth, with its voices of failure.* a helpless as the sea at the end of her string.* a restless. +estless and useless. *, too, create corpses.

* shall ove north. * shall ove into a long blackness.* see yself as a shadow, neither an nor wo an,

!either a wo an, happy to be like a an, nor a an3lunt and flat enough to feel no lack. * feel a lack.* hold y fingers up, ten white pickets.

ee, the darkness is leaking fro the cracks.

* cannot contain it. * cannot contain y life.


6/34

* shall be a heroine of the peripheral.* shall not be accused by isolate buttons,0oles in the heels of socks, the white ute facesOf unanswered letters, coffined in a letter case.* shall not be accused, * shall not be accused.

The clock shall not find e wanting, nor these starsThat rivet in place abyss after abyss.

T0*+D &O* :* see her in y sleep, y red, terrible girl.

he is crying through the glass that separates us.he is crying, and she is furious.

0er cries are hooks that catch and grate like cats.*t is by these hooks she cli bs to y notice.

he is crying at the dark, or at the starsThat at such a distance fro us shine and whirl.

* think her little head is carved in wood,$ red, hard wood, eyes shut and outh wide open.$nd fro the open outh issue sharp cries

cratching at y sleep like arrows,cratching at y sleep, and entering y side.

(y daughter has no teeth. 0er outh is wide.*t utters such dark sounds it cannot be good.

)*+ T &O* :"hat is it that flings these innocent souls at us1ook, they are so e8hausted, they are all flat out*n their canvas-sided cots, na es tied to their wrists,The little silver trophies they've co e so far for.There are so e with thick black hair, there are so e bald.Their skin tints are pink or sallow, brown or red/They are beginning to re e ber their differences.

* think they are ade of water/ they have no e8pression.Their features are sleeping, like light on 5uiet water.They are the real onks and nuns in their identical gar ents.

* see the showering like stars on to the world--On *ndia, $frica, $ erica, these iraculous ones,These pure, s all i ages. They s ell of ilk.Their footsoles are untouched. They are walkers of air.

an nothingness be so prodigal0ere is y son.0is wide eye is that general, flat blue.0e is turning to e like a little, blind, bright plant.One cry. *t is the hook * hang on.$nd * a a river of ilk.

* a a war hill.


7/34

O!D &O* :* a not ugly. * a even beautiful.The irror gives back a wo an without defor ity.The nurses give back y clothes, and an identity.*t is usual, they say, for such a thing to happen.

*t is usual in y life, and the lives of others.* a one in five, so ething like that. * a not hopeless.* a beautiful as a statistic. 0ere is y lipstick.

* draw on the old outh.The red outh * put by with y identity$ day ago, two days, three days ago. *t was a )riday.* do not even need a holiday/ * can go to work today.* can love y husband, who will understand."ho will love e through the blur of y defor ity$s if * had lost an eye, a leg, a tongue.

$nd so * stand, a little sightless. o * walk $way on wheels, instead of legs, they serve as well.$nd learn to speak with fingers, not a tongue.The body is resourceful.The body of a starfish can grow back its ar s$nd newts are prodigal in legs. $nd ay * be$s prodigal in what lacks e.

T0*+D &O* :he is a s all island, asleep and peaceful,

$nd * a a white ship hooting: Goodbye, goodbye.The day is bla4ing. *t is very ournful.The flowers in this roo are red and tropical.They have lived behind glass all their lives, they have been cared for tenderly.

!ow they face a winter of white sheets, white faces.There is very little to go into y suitcase.

There are the clothes of a fat wo an * do not know.There is y co b and brush. There is an e ptiness.

* a so vulnerable suddenly.* a a wound walking out of hospital.* a a wound that they are letting go.* leave y health behind. * leave so eone"ho would adhere to e: * undo her fingers like bandages: * go.

O!D &O* :* a yself again. There are no loose ends.* a bled white as wa8, * have no attach ents.* a flat and virginal, which eans nothing has happened,

!othing that cannot be erased, ripped up and scrapped, begun again.

There little black twigs do not think to bud,


8/34

!or do these dry, dry gutters drea of rain.This wo an who eets e in windows--she is neat.

o neat she is transparent, like a spirit.how shyly she superi poses her neat self

On the inferno of $frican oranges, the heel-hung pigs.he is deferring to reality.

*t is *. *t is *--Tasting the bitterness between y teeth.The incalculable alice of the everyday.

)*+ T &O* :0ow long can * be a wall, keeping the wind off0ow long can * beGentling the sun with the shade of y hand,*ntercepting the blue bolts of a cold oonThe voices of loneliness, the voices of sorrow1ap at y back ineluctably.0ow shall it soften the , this little lullaby

0ow long can * be a wall around y green property0ow long can y hands3e a bandage to his hurt, and y words3right birds in the sky, consoling, consoling*t is a terrible thingTo be so open: it is as if y heart%ut on a face and walked into the world.

T0*+D &O* :Today the colleges are drunk with spring.(y black gown is a litle funeral:*t shows * a serious.The books * carry wedge into y side.* had an old wound once, but it is healing.* had a drea of an island, red with cries.*t was a drea , and did not ean a thing.

)*+ T &O* :Dawn flowers in the great el outside the house.The swifts are back. They are shrieking like paper rockets.* hear the sound of the hours"iden and die in the hedgerows. * hear the oo of cows.The colors replenish the selves, and the wetThatch s okes in the sun.The narcissi open white faces in the orchard.

* a reassured. * a reassured.These are the clear bright colors of the nursery,

The talking ducks, the happy la bs.* a si ple again. * believe in iracles.


9/34

* do not believe in those terrible children"ho in7ure y sleep with their white eyes, their fingerless hands.They are not ine. They do not belong to e.

* shall editate upon nor ality.

* shall editate upon y little son.0e does not walk. 0e does not speak a word.0e is still swaddled in white bands.3ut he is pink and perfect. 0e s iles so fre5uently.* have papered his roo with big roses,* have painted little hearts on everything.

* do not will hi to be e8ceptional.*t is the e8ception that interests the devil.*t is the e8ception that cli bs the sorrowful hillOr sits in the desert and hurts his other's heart.* will hi to be co on,To love e as * love hi ,$nd to arry what he wants and where he will.

T0*+D &O* :0ot noon in the eadows. The buttercups

welter and elt, and the lovers%ass by, pass by.They are black and flat as shadows.*t is so beautiful to have no attach ents2* a solitary as grass. "hat is it * iss

hall * ever find it, whatever it is

The swans are gone. till the river +e e bers how white they were.*t strives after the with its lights.*t finds their shapes in a cloud."hat is that bird that cries"ith such sorrow in its voice* a young as ever, it says. "hat is it * iss

O!D &O* :* a at ho e in the la plight. The evenings are lengthening.* a ending a silk slip: y husband is reading.0ow beautifully the light includes these things.There is a kind of s oke in the spring air,$ s oke that takes the parks, the little statues"ith pinkness, as if a tenderness awoke,$ tenderness that did not tire, so ething healing.

* wait and ache. * think * have been healing.There is a great deal else to do. (y hands

an stitch lace neatly on to this aterial. (y husbandan turn and turn the pages of a book.


10/34

$nd so we are at ho e together, after hours.*t is only ti e that weighs upon our hands.*t is only ti e, and that is not aterial.

The streets ay turn to paper suddenly, but * recover

)ro the long fall, and find yself in bed,afe on the attress, hands braced, as for a fall.

* find yself again. * a no shadowThough there is a shadow starting fro y feet. * a a wife.The city waits and aches. The little grasses

rack through stone, and they are green with life.

Little Fugue

The yew's black fingers wag:old clouds go over.o the deaf and du bignal the blind, and are ignored.

* like black state ents.The featurelessness of that cloud, now2"hite as an eye all over2The eye of the blind pianist

$t y table on the ship.0e felt for his food.

0is fingers had the noses of weasels.* couldn't stop looking.

0e could hear 3eethoven:3lack yew, white cloud,The horrific co plications.)inger-traps--a tu ult of keys.

pty and silly as plates,o the blind s ile.

* envy big noises,

The yew hedge of the Grosse )uge.Deafness is so ething else.

uch a dark funnel, y father2* see your voice3lack and leafy, as in y childhood.

$ yew hedge of orders,Gothic and barbarous, pure Ger an.Dead en cry fro it.* a guilty of nothing.

The yew y hrist, then.*s it not as tortured


11/34

$nd you, during the Great "ar *n the alifornia delicatessen

1opping off the sausages2They colour y sleep,

+ed, ottled, like cut necks.There was a silence2

Great silence of another order.* was seven, * knew nothing.The world occurred.#ou had one leg, and a %russian ind.

!ow si ilar clouds$re spreading their vacuous sheets.Do you say nothing* a la e in the e ory.

* re e ber a blue eye,$ briefcase of tangerines.This was a an, then2Death opened, like a black tree, blackly.

* survive the while,$rranging y orning.These are y fingers, this y baby.The clouds are a arriage of dress, of that pallor.

Crossing the Water

3lack lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people."here do the black trees go that drink hereTheir shadows ust cover anada.

$ little light is filtering fro the water flowers.Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

old worlds shake fro the oar.The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.$ snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand/

tars open a ong the lilies.$re you not blinded by such e8pressionless sirensThis is the silence of astounded souls.


12/34

Words heard, by accident, over the phone

O ud, ud, how fluid2 ---Thick as foreign coffee, and with a sluggy pulse.

peak, speak2 "ho is it*t is the bowel-pulse, lover of digestibles.*t is he who has achieved these syllables.

"hat are these words, these wordsThey are plopping like ud.O god, how shall * ever clean the phone tableThey are pressing out of the any-holed earpiece, they are looking for alistener.*s he here

!ow the roo is ahiss. The instru ent"ithdraws its tentacle.3ut the spawn percolate in y heart. They are fertile.(uck funnel, uck funnel --#ou are too big. They ust take you back2

Burning the Letters

* ade a fire/ being tiredOf the white fists of old1etters and their death rattle

"hen * ca e too close to the wastebasket"hat did they know that * didn'tGrain by grain, they unrolled

ands where a drea of clear water Grinned like a getaway car.* a not subtle1ove, love, and well, * was tiredOf cardboard cartons the color of ce ent or a dog pack 0olding in it's hateDully, under a pack of en in red 7ackets,$nd the eyes and ti es of the post arks.

This fire ay lick and fawn, but it is erciless:$ glass case(y fingers would enter althoughThey elt and sag, they are told

Do not touch.

$nd here is an end to the writing,The spry hooks that bend and cringe and the s iles, the s iles$nd at least it will be a good place now, the attic.$t least * won't be strung 7ust under the surface,Du b fish"ith one tin eye,"atching for glints,


13/34

+iding y $rctic3etween this wish and that wish.

o, * poke at the carbon birds in y housedress.They are ore beautiful than y bodiless owl,

They console e--+ising and flying, but blinded.They would flutter off, black and glittering, they would be coal angelsOnly they have nothing to say but anybody.* have seen to that."ith the butt of a rake* flake up papers that breathe like people,* fan the out3etween the yellow lettuces and the Ger an cabbage*nvolved in it's weird blue drea s*nvolved in a foetus.$nd a na e with black edges

"ilts at y foot,inuous orchis

*n a nest of root-hairs and boredo --%ale eyes, patent-leather gutturals2"ar rain greases y hair, e8tinguishes nothing.(y veins glow like trees.The dogs are tearing a fo8. This is what it is like$ read burst and a cryThat splits fro it's ripped bag and does not stop"ith that dead eye$nd the stuffed e8pression, but goes onDyeing the air,Telling the particles of the clouds, the leaves, the water "hat i ortality is. That it is i ortal.

MedusaOff that landspit of stony outh-plugs,

yes rolled by white sticks,ars cupping the sea's incoherences,#ou house your unnerving head-God-ball,1ens of ercies,

#our stooges%lying their wild cells in y keel's shadow,%usshing by like hearts,+ed stig ata at the very center,+iding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure,

Dragging their 9esus hair.Did * escape, * wonder


14/34

(y ind winds to youOld barnacled u bilicus, $tlantic cable,

eeping itself, it see s, in a state of iraculous repair.

*n any case, you are always there,

Tre ulous breath at the end of y line,urve of water upleaping

To y water rod, da44ling and grateful,Touching and sucking.

* didn't call you.* didn't call you at all.

!evertheless, nevertheless#ou stea ed to e over the sea,)at and red, a placenta

%aralysing the kicking lovers.obra light5uee4ing the breath fro blood bells

Of the fuscia. * could draw no breath,Dead and oneyless,

Overe8posed, like an ;-ray."ho do you think you are$ o union wafer 3luberry (ary* shall take no bite of your body,3ottle in which * live,

Ghastly &atican.* a sick to death of hot salt.Green as eunuchs, your wishes0iss at y sins.Off, off, eely tentacle2

There is nothing between us.

The Night Dances$ s ile fell in the grass.*rretrievable2

$nd how will your night dances1ose the selves. *n athe atics

uch pure leaps and spirals -

urely they travel


15/34

The world forever, * shall not entirelyit e ptied of beauties, the gift

Of your s all breath, the drenched grassell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.

Their flesh bears no relation.old folds of ego, the calla,

$nd the tiger, e bellishing itself -pots, and a spread of hot petals.

The co ets0ave such a space to cross,

uch coldness, forgetfulness.o your gestures flake off -

"ar and hu an, then their pink light3leeding and peeling

Through the black a nesias of heaven."hy a * given

These la ps, these planets)alling like blessings, like flakes

i8 sided, whiteOn y eyes, y lips, y hair

Touching and elting. !owhere.

Ode for Ted)ro under the crunch of y an's boot

green oat-sprouts 7ut/he na es a lapwing, starts rabbits in a routlegging it ost ni bleto sprigged hedge of bra ble,stalks red fo8, shrewd stoat.

1oa -hu ps, he says, oles shuntup fro delved wor -haunt/

blue fur, oles have/ hefting chalk-hulled flinthe with rock splits openknobbed 5uart4/ flayed colors ripen

rich, brown, sudden in sunlight.


16/34

)or his least look, scant acres yield:each finger-furrowed fieldheaves forth stalk, leaf, fruit-nubbed e erald/

bright grain sprung so rarelyhe hauls to his will early/

at his hand's staunch hest, birds build.

+ingdoves roost well within his wood,shirr songs to suit which oodhe saunters in/ how but ost gladcould be this ada 's wo anwhen all earth his words do su onleaps to laud such an's blood2

Firesong

3orn green we wereto this flawed garden,

but in speckled thickets, warted as a toad,spitefully skulks our warden,fi8ing his snarewhich hauls down buck, cock, trout, till all ost fairis tricked to faulter in split blood.

!ow our whole task's to hackso e angel-shape worth wearing

fro his crabbed idden where all's wrought so awrythat no straight in5uiringcould unlockshrewd catch silting our each bright act backto un ade ud cloaked by sour sky.

weet salts warped steof weeds we tackle towards way's rank ending/scorched by red sunwe heft globed flint, racked in veins' barbed bindings/

brave love, drea

not of staunching such strict fla e, but co e,lean to y wound/ burn on, burn on.

Prospect$ ong orange-tile rooftopsand chi ney potsthe fen fog slips,gray as rats,

while on spotted branchof the syca ore


17/34

two black rooks hunchand darkly glare,

watching for night,with absinthe eye

cocked on the lone, late, passer-by.

%urdah

PursuitThere is a panther stalks e down:One day *'ll have y death of hi /0is greed has set the woods afla e,0e prowls ore lordly than the sun.(ost soft, ost suavely glides that step,$dvancing always at y back/)ro gaunt he lock, rooks croak havoc:The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.)layed by thorns * trek the rocks,0aggard through the hot white noon.$long red network of his veins"hat fires run, what craving wakes

*nsatiate, he ransacks the landonde ned by our ancestral fault,rying: blood, let blood be spilt/

(eat ust glut his outh's raw wound.een the rending teeth and sweet

The singeing fury of his fur/0is kisses parch, each paw's a briar,Doo consu ates that appetite.*n the wake of this fierce cat,

indled like torches for his 7oy,harred and ravened wo en lie,3eco e his starving body's bait.

!ow hills hatch enace, spawning shade/(idnight cloaks the sultry grove/The black arauder, hauled by loveOn fluent haunches, keeps y speed.3ehind snarled thickets of y eyes1urks the lithe one/ in drea s' a bush3right those claws that ar the flesh

$nd hungry, hungry, those taut thights.0is ardor snares e, lights the trees,
http://www.angelfire.com/tn/plath/purdah.htmlhttp://www.angelfire.com/tn/plath/purdah.html


18/34

$nd * run flaring in y skin/"hat lull, what cool can lap e in"hen burns and brands that yellow ga4e

* hurl y heart to halt his pace,

To 5uench his thirst * s5uander blook/0e eats, and still his need seeks food,

o pels a total sacrifice.0is voice waylays e, spells a trance,The gutted forest falls to ash/$ppalled by secret want, * rush)ro such assault of radiance.

ntering the tower of y fears,* shut y doors on that dark guilt,* bolt the door, each door * bolt.3lood 5uickens, gonging in y ears:

The panther's tread is on the stairs,o ing up and up the stairs.

Channel Crossing

On stor -struck deck, wind sirens caterwaul/"ith each tilt, shock and shudder, our blunt ship

leaves forward into fury/ dark as anger,"aves wallop, assaulting the stubborn hull.

)layed by spray, we take the challenge up,Grip the rail, s5uint ahead, and wonder how uch longer

uch force can last/ but beyond, the neutral viewhows, rank on rank, the hungry seas advancing.

3elow, rocked havoc-sick, voyagers lie+etching in bright orange basins/ a refugee

prawls, hunched in black, a ong baggage, wincing


19/34

*n sullen light of the inauspicious day. !ow, free, by ha4ard's 5uirk, fro the co on ill

nocking our brothers down, we strike a stance(ost ock-heroic, to cloak our waking awe$t this rare ru pus which no an can control :

(eek and proud both fall/ stark violence

1ays all walls waste/ private estates are torn,+ansacked in the public eye. "e forsakeOur lone luck now, co pelled by bond, by blood,To keep so e unsaid pact/ perhaps concern*s helpless here, 5uite e8tra, yet we ust akeThe gesture, bend and hold the prone an's head.

$nd so we sail toward cities, streets and ho esOf other en, where statues celebrate3rave acts played out in peace, in war/ all dangers

nd : green shores appear/ we assu e our na es,Our luggage, as docks halt our brief epic/ no debt

urvives arrival/ we walk the plank with strangers.

Miss Drake Proceeds to upper

!o novice*n those elaborate rituals"hich allay the alice

Of knotted table and crooked chair,The new wo an in the ward"ears purple, steps carefully$ ong her secret co binations of eggshells$nd breakable hu ingbirds,)ooting sallow as a ouse3etween the cabbage-roses"hich are slowly opening their furred petalsTo devour and drag her down*nto the carpet's design.

"ith bid-5uick eyed cocked askewhe can see in the nick of ti e

0ow perilous needles grain the floorboards$nd outwit their bra bled plan/

!ow through her a bushed air,$da44le with bright shardsOf broken glass,

he edges with wary breath,)ending off 7ag and tooth,


20/34

!ld Ladies" #ome

harded in black, like beetles,)rail as anti5ue earthenwear One breath ight shiver to bits,The old wo en creep out hereTo sun on the rocks or propThe selves up against the wall"hose stones keep a little heat.

!eedles knit in a bird-beakedounterpoint to their voices:ons, daughters, daughters and sons,

Distant and cold as photos,Grandchildren nobody knows.$ge wears the best black fabric+ust-red or green as lichens.

$t owl-call the old ghosts flock To hustle the off the lawn.)ro beds bo8ed-in like coffinsThe bonneted ladies grin.$nd Death, that bald-head bu44ard,

talls in halls where the la p wick hortens with each breath drawn.

Suicide Off Egg Rock

3ehind hi the hotdogs split and dri44ledOn the public grills, and the ochreous salt flats,Gas tanks, factory stacks- that landscapeOf i perfections his bowels were part of-+ippled and pulsed in the glassy updraught.

un struck the water like a da nation. !o pit of shadow to crawl into,

$nd his blood beating the old tattoo* a , * a , * a . hildren"ere s5uealing where co bers broke and the spindrift+aveled wind-ripped fro the crest of the wave.$ ongrel working his legs to a gallop0ustled a gull flock to flap off the sandspit.

0e s oldered, as if stone-deaf, blindfold,0is body beached with the sea's garbage,$ achine to breathe and beat forever.)lies filing in through a dead skate's eyehole3u44ed and assailed the vaulted braincha ber.The words in his book wor ed off the pages.


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verything glittered like blank paper.

verything shrank in the sun's corrosive+ay but gg +ock on the blue wastage.0e heard when he walked into the water

The forgetful surf crea ing on those ledges.

Poems, PotatoesThe word, defining, u44les/ the drawn lineOusts istier peers and thrives, urderous,*n establish ents which i agined lines

an only haunt. turdy as potatoes,tones, without conscience, word and line endure,

Given an inch. !ot that they're gross =although

$fterthought often would have the alterTo delicacy, to poise> but that they

hortchange e continuously: whether

(ore or other, they still dissatisfy.


22/34

You said the anger would come back

just as the love did.

I have a black look I do notlike. It is a mask I try on.I migrate toward it and its frogsits on my lips and defecates.It is old. It is also a pauper.I have tried to keep it on a diet.I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wearlike a blood clot. I havesewn it over my left breast.I have made a vocation of it.Lust has taken plant in itand I have placed you and yourchild at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderousand the milk tip is brimmingand each machine is workingand I will kiss you whenI cut up one do en new menand you will die somewhat!again and again.

Angels of the Love Affair

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"#ngels of the love affair! do you know that other!the dark one! that other me$ "

%. #&'(L O) )I*( #&+ '(&IT#L,
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#ngel of fire and genitals! do you know slime!that green mama who first forced me to sing!who put me first in the latrine! that pantomimeof brown where I was beggar and she was king$I said! "The devil is down that festering hole."Then he bit me in the buttocks and took over my soul.)ire woman! you of the ancient flame! youof the -unsen burner! you of the candle!you of the blast furnace! you of the barbecue!you of the fierce solar energy! ademoiselle!take some ice! take come snow! take a month of rainand you would gutter in the dark! cracking up your brain.

other of fire! let me stand at your devouring gateas the sun dies in your arms and you loosen it"s terrible weight.

/. #&'(L O) 0L(#& ,1((T,

#ngel of clean sheets! do you know bedbugs$Once in the madhouse they came like specks of cinnamonas I lay in a choral cave of drugs!as old as a dog! as 2uiet as a skeleton.Little bits of dried blood. One hundred marksupon the sheet. One hundred kisses in the dark.3hite sheets smelling of soap and 0loro4have nothing to do with this night of soil!nothing to do with barred windows and multiple locks

and all the webbing in the bed ! the ultimate recoil.I have slept in silk and in red and in black.I have slept on sand and! on fall night! a haystack.

I have known a crib. I have known the tuck5in of a childbut inside my hair waits the night I was defiled.

6. #&'(L O) )LI'1T #&+ ,L(I'1 -(LL,

#ngel of flight and sleigh bells! do you know paralysis!that ether house where your arms and legs are cement$You are as still as a yardstick. You have a doll"s kiss.The brain whirls in a fit. The brain is not evident.I have gone to that same place without a germ or a stroke.

# little solo act5that lady with the brain that broke.

In this fashion I have become a tree.I have become a vase you can pick up or dropp at will!inanimate at last. 3hat unusual luck7 y bodypassively resisting. 8art of the leftovers. 8art of the kill.

#ngels of flight! you soarer! you flapper! you floater!you gull that grows out of my back in the drreams I prefer!

stay near. -ut give me the totem. 'ive me the shut eyewhere I stand in stone shoes as the world"s bicycle goes by.
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9. #&'(L O) 1O8( #&+ 0#L(&+#*,

#ngel of hope and calendars! do you know despair$That hole I crawl into with a bo4 of :leene4!that hole where the fire woman is tied to her chair!that hole where leather men are wringing their necks!where the sea has turned into a pond of urine.There is no place to wash and no marine beings to stir in.

In this hole your mother is crying out each day.Your father is eating cake and digging her grave.In this hole your baby is strangling. Your mouth is clay.Your eyes are made of glass. They break. You are not brave.You are alone like a dog in a kennel. Your handsbreak out in boils. Your arms are cut and bound by bands

of wire. Your voice is out there. Your voice is strange.There are no prayers here. 1ere there is no change.

;. #&'(L O) -LI


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watching the toy sloops go by! holding courtfor busloads of tourists. Once I called breakfast the se4iestmeal of the day. Once I invited arrest

at the peace march in 3ashington. Once I was young and boldand left hundreds of unmatched people out in the cold.

A Story for Rose on the Midnight Flight to Boston

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=ntil tonight they were separate specialties!different stories! the best of their own worst.*iding my warm cabin home! I remember -etsy"slaughterA she laughed as you did! *ose! at the firststory. ,omeday! I promised her! I"ll be someonegoing somewhere and we plotted it in the humdrumschool for proper girls. The ne4t #pril the planebucked me like a horse! my elevators turnedand fear blew down my throat! that last profanegauge of a stomach coming up. #nd then returnedto land! as unlovely as any seasick sailor!sincerely eighteenA my first story! my funny failure.

aybe *ose! there is always another story!better unsaid! grim or flat or predatory.1alf a mile down the lights of the in5between citiesturn up their eyes at me. #nd I remember -etsy"sstory! the #pril night of the civilian air crashand her sudden name misspelled in the evening paper!the interior of shock and the paper gone in the trashten years now. ,he used the return ticket I gave her.This was the rude kill of herA two planes crackingin mid5air over 3ashington! like blind birds.

#nd the picking up afterwards! the morticians trackingbodies in the 8otomac and piecing them like boards
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to make a leg or a face. There is only her miniaturephotograph left! too long now for fear to remember.,pecial tonight because I made her into a storythat I grew to know and savor.

# reason to worry!*ose! when you fi4 an old death like that!and outliving the impact! to find you"ve pretended.3e bank over -oston. I am safe. I put on my hat.I am almost someone going home. The story has ended.

Christmas Eve

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Oh sharp diamond! my mother7I could not count the costof all your faces! your moods5that present that I lost.,weet girl! my deathbed!my jewel5fingered lady!your portrait flickered all nightby the bulbs of the tree.

Your face as calm as the moonover a mannered sea!presided at the family reunion!the twelve grandchildrenyou used to wear on your wrist!a three5months5old baby!a fat check you never wrote!the red5haired toddler who danced the twist!your aging daughters! each one a wife!each one talking to the family cook!

each one avoiding your portrait!each one aping your life.
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Later! after the party!after the house went to bed !I sat up drinking the 0hristmas brandy!watching your picture!letting the tree move in and out of focus.The bulbs vibrated.They were a halo over your forehead.Then they were a beehive!blue! yellow! green! redAeach with its own juice! each hot and alivestinging your face. -ut you did not move.I continued to watch! forcing myself!waiting! ine4haustible! thirty5five.

I wanted your eyes! like the shadowsof two small birds! to change.-ut they did not age.

The smile that gathered me in! all wit!all charm! was invincible.1our after hour I looked at your facebut I could not pull the roots out of it.Then I watched how the sun hit your red sweater! your withered neck!your badly painted flesh5pink skin.You who led me by the nose! I saw you as you were.Then I thought of your bodyas one thinks of murder5

Then I said ary5ary! ary! forgive me

and then I touched a present for the child!the last I bred before your deathAand then I touched my breastand then I touched the floorand then my breast again as if!somehow! it were one of yours.

Cinderella

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28/34



You always read about itBthe plumber with the twelve childrenwho wins the Irish ,weepstakes.)rom toilets to riches.That story.

Or the nursemaid!some luscious sweet from +enmarkwho captures the oldest son"s heart.from diapers to +ior.That story.

Or a milkman who serves the wealthy!eggs! cream! butter! yogurt! milk!the white truck like an ambulancewho goes into real estateand makes a pile.)rom homogeni ed to martinis at lunch.

Or the charwomanwho is on the bus when it cracks upand collects enough from the insurance.)rom mops to -onwit Teller.That story.

Oncethe wife of a rich man was on her deathbedand she said to her daughter 0inderellaB-e devout. -e good. Then I will smiledown from heaven in the seam of a cloud.The man took another wife who hadtwo daughters! pretty enoughbut with hearts like blackjacks.0inderella was their maid.,he slept on the sooty hearth each nightand walked around looking like #l >olson.

1er father brought presents home from town! jewels and gowns for the other womenbut the twig of a tree for 0inderella.,he planted that twig on her mother"s graveand it grew to a tree where a white dove sat.3henever she wished for anything the dovewould dropp it like an egg upon the ground.The bird is important! my dears! so heed him.

&e4t came the ball! as you all know.It was a marriage market.The prince was looking for a wife.

#ll but 0inderella were preparingand gussying up for the event.0inderella begged to go too.
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1er stepmother threw a dish of lentilsinto the cinders and saidB 8ick themup in an hour and you shall go.The white dove brought all his friendsAall the warm wings of the fatherland came!and picked up the lentils in a jiffy.&o! 0inderella! said the stepmother!you have no clothes and cannot dance.That"s the way with stepmothers.

0inderella went to the tree at the graveand cried forth like a gospel singerB

ama7 ama7 y turtledove!send me to the prince"s ball7The bird dropped down a golden dressand delicate little slippers.*ather a large package for a simple bird.,o she went. 3hich is no surprise.

1er stepmother and sisters didn"trecogni e her without her cinder faceand the prince took her hand on the spotand danced with no other the whole day.

#s nightfall came she thought she"d better get home. The prince walked her homeand she disappeared into the pigeon houseand although the prince took an a4e and brokeit open she was gone. -ack to her cinders.These events repeated themselves for three days.1owever on the third day the prince

covered the palace steps with cobbler"s wa4and 0inderella"s gold shoe stuck upon it.&ow he would find whom the shoe fitand find his strange dancing girl for keeps.1e went to their house and the two sisterswere delighted because they had lovely feet.The eldest went into a room to try the slipper onbut her big toe got in the way so she simplysliced it off and put on the slipper.The prince rode away with her until the white dovetold him to look at the blood pouring forth.That is the way with amputations.They just don"t heal up like a wish.The other sister cut off her heelbut the blood told as blood will.The prince was getting tired.1e began to feel like a shoe salesman.-ut he gave it one last try.This time 0inderella fit into the shoelike a love letter into its envelope.

#t the wedding ceremonythe two sisters came to curry favor and the white dove pecked their eyes out.Two hollow spots were left

like soup spoons.


30/34

0inderella and the princelived! they say! happily ever after!like two dolls in a museum casenever bothered by diapers or dust!never arguing over the timing of an egg!never telling the same story twice!never getting a middle5aged spread!their darling smiles pasted on for eternity.*egular -obbsey Twins.That story.

Courage

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It is in the small things we see it.The child"s first step!as awesome as an earth2uake.The first time you rode a bike!wallowing up the sidewalk.The first spanking when your heartwent on a journey all alone.3hen they called you crybabyor poor or fatty or cra yand made you into an alien!you drank their acidand concealed it.

Later!if you faced the death of bombs and bulletsyou did not do it with a banner!you did it with only a hat tocomver your heart.

You did not fondle the weakness inside youthough it was there.
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Your courage was a small coalthat you kept swallowing.If your buddy saved youand died himself in so doing!then his courage was not courage!it was loveA love as simple as shaving soap.

Later!if you have endured a great despair!then you did it alone!getting a transfusion from the fire!picking the scabs off your heart!then wringing it out like a sock.&e4t! my kinsman! you powdered your sorrow!you gave it a back ruband then you covered it with a blanketand after it had slept a whileit woke to the wings of the roses

and was transformed.

Later!when you face old age and its natural conclusionyour courage will still be shown in the little ways!each spring will be a sword you"ll sharpen!those you love will live in a fever of love!and you"ll bargain with the calendar and at the last momentwhen death opens the back door you"ll put on your carpet slippersand stride out.

'Daddy' Warbu !s

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3hat"s missing is the eyeballsin each of us! but it doesn"t matter because you"ve got the bucks! the bucks! the bucks.You let me touch them! fondle the green faceslick at their numbers and it lets you bemy "+addy7 " "+addy7 " and though I fought all alonewith molesters and crooks! I knew your moneywould save me! your courage! your "I"ve hadconsiderable e4perience as a soldier...fighting to win millions for myself! it"s true.-ut I did win! " and me praying for "our men out there"

just made it okay to be an orphan whose blood was no one"s!whose curls were hung up on a wire machine and electrified!while you built and unbuilt intrigues called nations!and did in the bad ones! always! always!and always came at my perils! the black 0hrists of childhood!always came when my heart stood naked in the streetand they threw apples at it or twelve5day5old5dead5fish.

"+addy7 " "+addy! " we all won that war!when you sang me the money songs

#nnie! #nnie you sangand I knew you drove a pure gold car and put diamonds in you cokefor the crunchy sound! the adorable soundand the moon too was in your portfolio!as well as the ocean with its sleepy dead.

#nd I was always brave! wasn"t I$I never bled$

I never saw a man e4pose himself.&o. &o.I never saw a drunkard in his blubber.I never let lightning go in one car and out the other.

#nd all the men out there were never to come.&ever! like a deluge! to swim over my breastsand lay their lamps in my insides.&o. &o.>ust me and my "+addy"and his tempestuous bucksrolling in them like corn flakesand only the bad ones died.

-ut I died yesterday!"+addy! " I died!swallowing the &a i5>ap animaland it won"t get outit keeps knocking at my eyes!my big orphan eyes!kicking7 =ntil eyeballs pop outand even my dog puts up his four feetand lets goof his military secretwith his big red tongueflying up and downlike yours should have


33/34

as we board our velvet train.

Musi S"ims Ba ! to Me

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3ait ister. 3hich way is home$They turned the light out

and the dark is moving in the corner.There are no sign posts in this room!four ladies! over eighty!in diapers every one of them.La la la! Oh music swims back to meand I can feel the tune they playedthe night they left mein this private institution on a hill.

Imagine it. # radio playingand everyone here was cra y.I liked it and danced in a circle.

usic pours over the senseand in a funny waymusic sees more than I.I mean it remembers betterAremembers the first night here.It was the strangled cold of &ovemberAeven the stars were strapped in the skyand that moon too brightforking through the bars to stick mewith a singing in the head.I have forgotten all the rest.

They lock me in this chair at eight a.m.

and there are no signs to tell the way! just the radio beating to itself
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and the song that remembersmore than I. Oh! la la la!this music swims back to me.The night I came I danced a circleand was not afraid.

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Vote

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friend




y mouth blooms like a cut.

I"ve been wronged all year! tediousnights! nothing but rough elbows in themand delicate bo4es of :leene4 calling crybabycrybaby! you fool7

-efore today my body was useless.&ow it"s tearing at its s2uare corners.It"s tearing old ary"s garments off! knot by knotand see 5 &ow it"s shot full of these electric bolts.

Date post:	02-Jun-2018
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New Year on Dartmoor

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