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Toward a terminal zone Coupey, Pierre 1971

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TOWARD A TERMINAL ZONE by PIERRE COUPEY B.A., McGill University, 1964 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n the Department of ENGLISH We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1971 In presenting t h i s thesis i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l l m e n t of the requirements f o r an advanced degree at the University of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the Library s h a l l make i t fr e e l y available f o r reference and study.I further agree that permission f o r extensive copying of t h i s thesis f o r scholarly purposes may be granted by the Head of my De -partment or by his representatives.lt i s understood that copying or publication of t h i s thesis f o r f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my written permission. Pierre Coupey DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA VANCOUVER APRIL 1971 ABSTRACT Now I have the opportunity to write the grand preface, I f i n d I have too much to say, and so, again, i t ' s easier to want to say nothing. The poems here want to give some pleasure, to anyone who cares to take i t from them. The poems to come, the terminal zone i t s e l f , what I have been moving toward and into, i n both poetry and painting, w i l l not give pleasure. But here, f o r the moment, are some of the notes recorded on the way. They have involved that kind of fee l i n g - i n - s l e e p one experiences when one' must rehearse old voices, surrounding voices, unheard voices, i n order to f i n d from the many sounds around us that one strong enough to sing. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS BLEW OINTMENT CANADIAN FORUM DELTA EL CORNO EMPLUMADO PRISM INTERNATIONAL TO EVERY THING THERE IS A SEASON LE CONSEIL DES ARTS DE QUEBEC THE CANADA COUNCIL TABLE OF CONTENTS TITLE . .. 1 CONSPIRACY 2 THE. JAPANESE GARDENS 3 ; THE REVELATION 5 AN ESKIMO LINE . . .. 6 AN ALLEGORY OF LOVE ... 7 THE PRISONER DEVOURED BY LICE .. 8 FOR ESTHER 12 TO WILL IS TO STIR UP PARADOX 1? IMAGE OF CHOICE 24 A SUBJECT IS ANY 25 "AND MANY ARE THE DEAD MEN 26 FOR MARC , WHO 27 RAINBOW FLAME . 28 LUNAR SEQUENCE 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .'. 29 LUNAR SEQUENCE 2 30 LUNAR SEQUENCE 3 31. WHAT IT IS 32 FOR RICK & ANNE ......... . . 33 ORPHEUS, WITH-SEASHELLS 34 BOTTICELLI'S BIRDS & FLOWERS 35 AN ACCIDENT IS LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE .... J6 THE BARBER . 37 CABLEVISION 38 STILL WATER & FISH 39 LEONARD'S SECRET 40 EPITHALAMIUM 41 BALLAD OF THE DEPARTING HUSBAND 42 SUSANJ REMEMBERING/FORGETTING 43 FOR SUSAN, FOR POETRY 44 AND ALL THESE THINGS ARE TRUE 45 NIGHT WALK 46 ALPHA — 47 APT. 4B 48 THE IMAGE 49 TAPE 18B 51 12/12/70 52 THE SILVER CIRCLE .. 53 TERMINAL ZONE 55 VANCOUVER VORTEX (FIRST MOVEMENT) 59 TITLE these trees l e t no l i g h t throughi you within, looking, east the shadow I walk through, no surprise i n your eyes CONSPIRACY we use my fear of l o s i n g you to l e g i s l a t e the l o s s i i f the bed i s naked & the k i l l i n g done no kisses f o r the corpse whichever one THE JAPANESE GARDENS the garden the a r c h i t e c t knew the weather would tips.touching edges t h e i r colors echo scales of delight the wind derives i n the sky, also oftthe pond the w a t e r f a l l ringing place where peace is5 i l faut savoir que tout rime & they never learned to steer praised the d e v i l s of death & dragons such as p a p i l l o n hirondelle amour 2 the garden laced with leaves winter placed has, overlapping tht-the earth & rocks the center of the search f o r soul, the branches & boughs that are the scales of the f i s h , the waves unimagined weightlessness . . . sd wols from his beach at cassis the a s i a t i c s are warring people scorned water unsuitable questions or the b u t t e r f l y me? the garden on the ground with a care one near one soi brown to gold drives from on the scales of the rock where each to each the spaces r i n g l not peace t h e i r boats, they knew powder & f i r e & often asked was i t I dreamed the b u t t e r f l y ? the great winds rage to the hollow caves of earth THE REVELATION on the screen f l y the trees of f i s h / t h e i r shadows d r i f t into l i g h t & form the feet of those who would not miss them« a s l i d e , a d r i f t into l i g h t s & darks that are f l i g h t f i s h the woman kneeling before her mirrort these no l e s s than anna blume/for she blooms r e l e n t l e s s l y as the dada voice intones another dimension of things which are i n f i n i t y cosmos l i g h t . there i s a season unlike a photograph or a s l i d e that glides before the pyes of the country awaiting i t s own damnation. o l e t the shadows move the sky s h a l l bleed no the things we see are the things we are. o l e t the true trees bloomi the sky i s a science of eyes. into the l i g h t i longer/for AN ESKIMO LINE I could not sleep f o r the sea lay so smooth near at hand as she, beside me i n the yellow bed, turned to the sea i n her dream with a motion to up/set me who only wanted sleep without dreams f i l l e d with f i s h swimming beneath boats f i l l e d with fishermen harpoons & anchors) can i t be the hunter only dreamt he k i l l e d the walrus, the blood on the sea surface, the angry f l i p p e r s & hunting f l o a t ? can i t be her dream, l i t l i k e the lascaux caves or the sea on a cl e a r day, contained l i k e the f l o a t , a guardian amulet (secret of transparencies? (a f r i e n d who l i v e d with the eskimo was on the ice one day & found his lamp & heater f a u l t y i f a r from any dwelling & without complaint he kept to his journey, as the cl e a r ice surrounded him he cast no shadow AN ALLEGORY OF LOVE l e t me disguise you. i n my fingers there i s the power of the l i e . the b a l l e r i n a r e l i e s on the power i n my hands, the p o l i t i c i a n , the dry-cleaner, the r e g i s t r a r , the war i n Vietnam i s also a r e s u l t of the paint flowing from my fingers, when i walked into the jeweller's & asked i f he needed a f i r s t - r a t e embellisher, he sd sure, step i n back boy, &• l e t ' s see what you can do. he handed me a turnip, i made i t into a communist star, a nose-ring f o r s n i f f i n g flowers, make me a bracelet, boy, he ordered, while smiling & s n i f f i n g the a i r . i took a thumb tack, stuck i t i n his eye, walked out & didn't look back. THE PRISONER DEVOURED BY LICES who was once i n the ranks of the figures (to prevent the penetrations of stones) & missing that sight of you as the stre e t stopped I saw the prisoner of the camp you were before the c h i l d dwarfed the image the man became. you couldn't see the eyes of the image that made you i n my eyes become what you never were. 2 uncertain the reason you should appear/at t h i s the moment the c h i l d wakes not the noise of the fugue not the noise alone i n a dark room the c h i l d remembers not the name butthe figure of the prisoner devoured by l i c e t Auschwitz (awakens no memory) but the figure, there somewhere he cannot see him, stands s t i l l within the frames1 of the photograph. the reason when abandoned the toy becomes the image of the k i l l e r . he must be here there i f you know where I don't know the place of which I speak. s t i l l . he cannot be i n the half-awake cry of the c h i l d nor i n the s t i l l n e s s of the cobblestones. various voices contend one of which you or the c h i l d i s . 3/expectations the beasts a r r i v e through doors the fortune's ear, attended attending/the stones must turn, f o r love or f i r e . "eye & ears of the great king waiting" accident the sign f o r the racing sirens red l i g h t s blink i n the blaze of the a i r faces turn, the figure descends the c i r c u l a r s t a i r s . "or the shape, then, of color & restlessness" "cet oubli du reve apres l e sommeil ( t h i s dream of love I awake i n n'est pas plus extraordinaire que being at a l l times present ce qui a l i e u dans l ' e t a t de v e i l l e can enter at any point ou l'on ne se rappelle pas a l a f i n the language making de l a journee l a centieme partie des pensees the r e a l reference) qui s'y sont produites" / " l e s reves, hervey de saint denys_J7 y r figure framed i n the window of the store d e l i v e r s the corpse cohered by thinnest snow to the stones turning i n the tides on the shore & the c h i l d crying from the roof of the room to the toys aligned by the farthest wall encounters the prisoner devoured by l i c e as the beasts attend at the door faces raised p o l i c e l i g h t s p i e r c i n g . (a statement: inevitable surrender of the i n t e l l e c t becomes the i n v i s i b l e connective, measure of things to come, f o r we walked away then, unaware that a year l a t e r the memory of you could ever be a source of confusion, the 3 voices by which I hoped to reach youi a l l false) the probes a p o r t f o l i o of prisons necessary to renew the pain that gives d i r e c t i o n , i t ' s true, there's no outer & inner, of space or formi a peace, not beyond, or within, but consuming, the tree i s not on space but i n space, there i s something larger & s t i l l no distance from i t or to i t to be t r a v e l l e d , so her face against the wall i s not yet hers, gives way to faces too large & f a m i l i a r f o r us to notice the pale form balancing on the edge of space, i t s d i r e c t i o n subject to the whims of a madman's breath, (a moon must harvest & hunt.) the h o s p i t a l i t s e l f i s l i k e a disease, proud enough to be contggious. she had seen i t s tower i n fil m s , i n the eyes of poets & petty o f f i c i a l s , on the walls of the forgotten c i t y , the walls are mirrors revealing f i l m s , they play i n slow motion to the speed of our eyes, s i l e n t , the day she asked him, i f you don't believe me, who w i l l , he turned to the wall where her mirror seemed to be, & the tower beyond i t began to topple, the many forms of the movie to melt, we t r i e d to dress her i n white, make her into the bed, but she jumped from the window, the doctor's smile had flowers i n i t that spoke greek, the nurse knew nothing jet. 2 someone t o l d her never to bow to nature, the dog under-stood everyone, the car was stolen, the f l a g lowered from the totem, the dog pissed on the grass, a yellow streak appeared i n the blue sea below the c l i f f , when a boundary changes i t s shapes both sides move together, the totem began to reveal i t s forms. two motorcycles, both black, side by side on the partly-yellow p r a i r i e * both covered by the same transparent . p l a s t i c , they were going to south america v i a new york & mexico, they- sd. the moon rose as i f from blood & the northern l i g h t s played phoenix. 3 as the stone i s c i r c l e d with white the night i s . we are permitted disguises & blessed f o r being f o o l s , the paradox i s r e a l , the s k i l l of the undivided stems from t h i s i there i s nothing to be established. the night she came with her dog & her pregnancy, a l l of us dazed with sleep ov the lack of i t t our dreams interchanged, the highways crossed & fused, the land-scape around us new & unexpected, the high beams made shadows lar g e r than ourselves, l i k e her we became h i t c h -hikers, moved into the bewildering maze of freeways & e x i t s , l i g h t s f l a s h i n g on & o f f the demanding signs that led into the c i t i e s across the continent, america europe north a f r i c a a l l the dreams they expected to l i v e they had already l i v e d * dreams i n which each word exploded v i c i o u s l y J the dum-dum b u l l e t tearing f l e s h finds c e l l s & glands i n v i s i b l e to the s c a l p e l that follows, compounding damage, at death t h e i r dreams are studded with shrapnel & knivesi the h o s p i t a l donates them to v i c t o r y square & the lonely d r i f t e r s . the desperate dancingi pale image of the rose decaying i n harsh overhead night l i g h t at dawn, a l l things emerge/ i n the t e r r o r of changes, the contour at l a s t defining the impossible monument, the unbearable contact, p i t i l e s s walls betraying t h e i r b u i l d e r s i sad a r c h i t e c t , sage a r c h i t e c t , tenants confused at the end of the month, in s a t i a b l e mystics pursuing stones, newsie helpless i n his lack of cunning to account f o r the missing dimes, the professor saying you can't change the world, the radio accounts f o r the missing k i l l e r s , they l e f t s a note saying the world can't change the professor, he's i n the bathroom with the radio looking f o r the d i a l , t h i s useless & pointless knowledge* there's nothing to s t e a l that doesn't belong to you, nothing to give that i s yours, the totem i s a motorcycle twisted i n the tree. to protect themselves from, the enormous drain of energy) 1 the radio cannot rape everyonebut rapes a l l i t can, eventually the softness of the machine may f i n d us, & murmur over & over into our ears the l a t e s t scores as we squirm, the mouth consuming the s k u l l to form enormous words, l i p s large as twin 4 e l l y f i s h , the words blurred with a speed of intention the l i p s cannot match, a naked e l e c t r i c throat threatening (the victims s a c r i f i c e one another i n advance 5 a dark presence shadows them, limnd with f i r e s a dark cushion of comfort« a c e r t a i n strength i s taken from that empty space to make i t a changing shape, do they r e a l i z e where t h e i r i n t e g r i t y l i e s , they seem to have made a journey through the c i t y of night, perhaps they stand at the ou t s k i r t s , behind them the holocaust of l i g h t s , & face the vague surreal p l a i n seeming to end at the horizon, the space between them a l i q u i d shape with a l l of the colors of the c i t y i n i t . somehow they do not know where they are, as i f the dancing horizon ends i n t h e i r fingers, & the sensation of holding everything they have ever had makes them uncomfortable, a telescope could place them, a pincer of l i g h t , perhaps even one of the search beams that continuously c i r c l e the c i t y at nights but the l i g h t never descends f a r enough to show t h e i r bodies are kn i t by the dancing shape between them. TO WILL IS TO STIR UP PARADOX 1 the bridge to be a craftsman even on t h i s bridge which i f I walk i n one d i r e c t i o n moves i n the other i s the naked s k i l l of suicide. the boats, tethered to the water barely move with the waves whereas the masts sway i n the wind & slowly the tide moves i n . the birds are f l o a t i n g below the bridge on a i r , on water the darkness makes them one. the sun a neon sign i s the new hieroglyph/the one sacred, hard to understand: at night i t burns naked & red, as around i t turn the galaxies of the dead. the whole naked & vast flower of the tree stands s t i l l as my eyes move. beyond the rim the f o r t r e s s speaks to the b i r d of night from whose wings f a l l the seeds of the flower. (as one w i l l / as one can) winters i n t h e i r turn are the nights of seasons l i t with the signs • of l i n e a r streets (reading Maximus from Dogtown I am at a loss l o s t too i n other excavations I can only see the s t r e e t l i g h t s curving above the chasms. action grows between memory & desire between the root & the branch the l i v i n g f i r e . the bridges i n the c i t y are the l i n e s & the l i n e s the echoes of f i c t i o n a l feet are feet, the cat's paw g l i d i n g the breath returning. there i s an or d e r i over the sea, whether e a s t or west over the l a n d , n o r t h or south the 1st command, the 1st c i t y c a l l s me / to obey. c a r v e r o f a r g i l i t e the hands of y r body argus-eyed hunt i n the f o r e s t the stone totem hunt i n the t r e e stone the b l a c k o f the f o r e s t the b l a c k o f the n i g h t . the camera turns to the g r a n d f a t h e r w a i t i n g the boy's r e t u r n from the c o a s t a l shore. naum gabo wrotei I do not experience any o f the f e a r of the dark f o r c e s i n nature p r i m i t i v e man saw & experienced. /the t i d e r e v e a l e d the block o f wood ae r a t e d by worms, where t h e i r bodies formed the c e l l s o f t h e i r c i t y t h e i r l o c u s i n the sequence of l i n e / s c u l p t o r s o f darkness the c i t y f e a r s the l i g h t s o f the c i t y i n my b e l l y are smashed/fire i n the water i s s p l i n t e r e d , l e s nenuphars dark i n c l o s i n g are broken on a l t a r s i n the n i g h t i n the s i l e n c e . the b i r t h that beauty brings to griefs strange c i t y , strange time, pride i n the strangeness, uncertain understandings! every baby born a bastard i n the metro. -personal history the strangeness I carry or the stranger w&o harbours me, car r i e d through the s i l e n t unmoving tunnels. where i n the metro did I see you f a l l i n g ? on the steps that s p i r a l l e d out of sight. /the monarchs s a i l i n g i n the a i r are true & the birds i n the darkness f l y i n g / somewhere i n the metro climbing the s t a i r s , heavily, as i f you had a rock i n y r b e l l y you f e l l sat. people walked around you without looking ot looking quickly looked away, a woman with a dog & some flowers came to you, smiled f a i n t l y . perhaps she thought you were dying une femme enceinte I should have kissed you. the order of blood i n the l i g h t of the lampi you gave b i r t h , then, i t was written on the mesh of the cages of the birds i n the dream (the dream yet to be dreamed k voyage/prefigurations of the command "dogs of blood — flower empty" a l l t h i s the north of the eastern land (no syntax i n the trees) l e t now the angels of the a i l i n g land c a l l f o r t h the demons of the sea. confess the swiftness of the turning earth with fingers numb before the day with pain & words that l i e i neither g l o r i f y nor reduce the glory of. preci s i o n ! open to the darkness of the stars to the ocean where the three-legged king stands i n the tide-water above the f l o a t i n g h a i r of the woman. i n c i s i o n i i n the rocks & the stones of the cove forms of the king carved by waves tombs, fingers, skeletons from heaven. decision! to know the stones & the rocks cannot deny the blood of the stars f l o a t i n g i n the rock pool. rock pool. moon isl a n d song 5 the t e r r o r of changes stone cut/stone cutter/what s h a l l i t be birds or graves? o cut stone/cutter of stone that choice i s not yours to make even though black i s the beauty of the brightest day even as) . susan/where a r t thou? not somewhere but here, the wind i n the cedars j o ruth, not here but somewhere the r a i n a s i l v e r gauze against the grey h i l l s & va l l e y s were you not there the long night waiting, the long night r a i n i n g cythera put away the notes you have stored/they serve no longeri put away those hatreds & jealousies/you who must believe/must also love the birds of night & day white or black/chickens & pigeons/must mix & reverse colors within the cage of the 4 locations given me woven & the one metamorphosis of worm to bird/bright orange/a f i r e of darkness/its eyes the boat a r r i v e s , only i t s l i g h t s s i g n i f y the luxurious beast i t i s (how many times has i t come & gone how long i t s movements i n the channel between the islands/moving further up the coast the channel, the deft weaving the d i f f i c u l t passage, the grey mist confuses the morning with the night, bewilders the islands i n v i s i b l e shadow-islands emerge paaawwwmmm paawwmm paaawwwmmm the waters break, the bones having worked i n the weeks before take now th i s heat/take now t h i s l i g h t (the soul emerges from the v/aters as i f a l l dead red s t r i a t i o n s , monsster monstrous form about i t s neck the r i n g of day (moon island song distance between the eyes f l e s h inside f l e s h the dream of the figures they were, the mesh of cages a g r i d of l i g h t i n winter i n night a chain of caves, o jar d i n sous l a neige garden beneath the snow nightmare america eagles feathers painted white with blood borders of neon f l a s h a l e t t e r home home where I was caged no longer by islands of night islands of l i g h t moon wind dazzling the ancient eyes captain Vancouver meets mack the knife i s heroed i s herod i s king i s eater of f l e s h i s l i q u i d c i t y sucking souls i s k i l l e r of america indian hunter f o r sport l i n e s up targets against the wall i s black maria bel i e v i n g god i n j e l l o A SUBJECT IS ANY a subject i s any-thing a garden green the wife you know i s a big black b i r d some unfamiliar word l i k e octareen y o u ' l l never know the meaning of l i k e whisker (or love a subject i s a big black place wide enough f o r the human race & a l l the women you want to screw an umbrella that l e t s i n r a i n a pleasure without a pain a subject then i s anything b e a u t i f u l enough to be impossible or true enough to be both a subject i s a big black garden where the spiders conspire a queen whose pleasures seem forbidden but f o r those who dream of roses i n the garden, of frogs, & bank accounts of apples, teapots, rabbits or shadows white & green or a s i l v e r r i d i n g horse beneath a s i l v e r moon or anything else you'd care to see i n the "cobwebs of your room "AND MANY ARE THE DEAD MEN too s i l e n t to be r e a l " & large i s the silence that surrounds the bleached column of s k u l l s that marks unseen the l i v i n g untongued by desire f o r death s k u l l upon s k u l l eyeless tongueless noseless earless hollowed of f l e s h by the preying birds starved by napalm i n montreal streets they wait f o r your desire to confessi many are the dead men silenced by love b u i l d i n g a c i t y with t h e i r bones i n the earth knuckles to nucleus spines into spires t h e i r marrow commands a c i t y ' s b e l i e f / FOR MARC, WHO damn near died i you think of that afterwards whereas at f i r s t seeing the red mark around his neck your body freezes with exploded thought, the mind with exploded blood & a f t e r the f i r s t impulse to k i l l i s over questions no one can answer, not even facts or d e t a i l s or motives beyond those the imagination supplies too e a s i l y seeing your son strung from the rope as a monumental®sign i n a poem you wrote long ago — a sign the s u f f e r i n g i s everywhere even i n the mind of the c h i l d who forgot hepput a rope around the neck of your son RAINBOW FLAME the gazoline soul i n arcs of flame! the pool of f i r e I the sky of blood! the old man burning! the c i t y l i t with the smell of f l e s h ! the c i t y raw with mud & glass! feathers & s h i t ! miracles & madness i n the r i s i n g f i r e da v i n c i has i t i n a drawing the man extended feet & fingers to the edge at times l i k e teeth i n an open mouth. that man i s trapped c i r c l e s himself , a small c h i l d shaping angels i n snow what passes through his navel i s the compass point what moves him i s the knowledge he must move his wings carved out from snow l y i n g on his back or face down trace dimensions one side of him w i l l never know da v i n c i smiles his man looks back at him from eyes just drawn & somewhat defiant confused/facing god knows what doing cartwheels l i k e that any minute he might ex-plode & expire a f i r e c r a c k e r spinning over the bay what moves him muscles i n arms & legs he discovers he has many he moves & they measure da v i n c i smiles again a c i r c l e each one thinking he did i t by himself. these places are marked/fixed with seals carved, burned, poured, spoken, screwed, faceless & divine/beware the man who bears no sign. "Let us look cl o s e l y at t h i s shadow by doing so we s h a l l divine the attitude of the body which projects i t . " - Henri Bergson auvers sur oise / toward the birds & worms the graves of the good brothers surrounded by regrets & faded photographs cohen cawing his mind also maddened crow memories passed by the impossible gates "with a taste for storms & none f o r shelter" the crows picked out i n the sky the black peaks of a black r i v e r shiny luminous with rot condemned to f l y WHAT IT IS stars screaming as they f a l l the clouded moon making winks at night & galaxies playing an astronomical hide & seek change nothing/do not make cars, j e t s , rockets or even money / they "are as they are" & yet the stars are targets & the whole cosmos a praying finger that forgets continously what i t FOR RICK & ANNE i t i s a cloak. & of many colors i am wary / "of Angells -Louis Richeome, who understand The Pilgrime of Loreto, without discourse" trans. "E.W."~TParis,l629) who i s she/she who i s behind me l i k e a wave, a stone, a lonesome c h i l d . the l i g h t s of the diver smile from the water smile from the music & l a t e r i decide to go outside to f i n d the friends over the bridges as f a r as they go« the c i t y i s a cloak the color of smoke the c i t y cannot be as c l e a r as the sea ORPHEUS, WITH SEASHELLS orpheus/captive of the s h e l l she i s r i s i n g from the sea i think she w i l l capture me orpheus/captain of the cargo she sleeps between us now while the organ-grinder plays section forty-three her formal hands are fo l d i n g the bedsheet back for us a crimson s h e l l i s f l o a t i n g but the music seems enough i f you see her eyes are tempting our vi s i o n s back again t e l l her we are s a i l i n g to our visi o n s of her then BOTTICELLI'S BIRDS & FLOWERS b o t t i c e l l i ' s birds & flowers b i r t h & dance attend her as she passes hidden i n a trance her black hair spreads behind her l i k e a black rainbow fan as yellow birds & flowers are born from her hands never ask her lovers why the s i l v e r winds must blow never ask the r i v e r why her footprints show l i k e the f o s s i l s of a seashell i n s i l v e r ice & snow l i k e answers to a question no one can know AN ACCIDENT IS LIKE A DREAM COME TRUE funny i could see the glass f l y i n g l i k e water spun from a g i r l ' s h a i r as she r i s e s from the ocean i f only she were there instead the old man slumped as i f dead perhaps he heard the national anthem sung by mermaids with m i l i t a r y drums — a f i n a l r o l l of batons & bodies there was no f i r i n g squad only two smashed cars & two men r i s i n g f o r a i r THE BARBER concerned not only with umpires & holes i n space but also with l i l a c s budding & other magical fornications & s t i l l more . . = with the abstract p r i n c i p l e of manu-facturing h a i r the encyclopaedic barber / his voice a lather on your ears t e l l s of incest & the e v i l machinations of a brother whose dreams he s l i t with a razor gleaming i n the moon l i g h t the tv makes a noise of monkeys i cannot think or even want the f l e s h of you i n my hands when noise, pictures crowd our bodies into grained pieces of l i g h t & revolution i s a dream Stanley says so hates levertov & scorns ideas beyond pastrami money & land & hates the love that makes a poem though he doesn't say so f -the poet's propaganda for poetry i s propoganda ( american s t y l e ) & dogma back wards doesn't say he's god though he says so & again aesthetic action i s denied by those "who protest too much" Stanley, don't forget we pray f o r y r father his feet echoing ours i n subway/s. & even yours. STILL WATER & FISH mouth f u l l of snow, where as with gauguin, w i l l you go to see again t h i s woman offered on the ha l f s h e l l as i n b o t t i c e l l i or see the c i r c l e traced on s t i l l water "by/fish transparent i n the snow covered wood by dante, the f i r s t c i r c l e of h e l l without beatrice — the b a i t i s well hidden, beneath, but the f i s h r i s e s i n r i s i n g r a i s e s i n diving leaves strange s t i l l c i r c l e i n v i t i n g dreams i. orpheus beckons Williams beckons the descent beckons the ascent beckons they both become you I know your s e c r e t i s b u r i e d i n montreal on murray h i l l below the trees I know your secret won't t r a v e l though i t wants to s i t on a l l the stone steps of montreal banks I know your secret i s n ' t mine yours s u r v i v e s i n a t r a n s p a r e n t s h r i n e knees worn from c l i m b i n g I know your s e c r e t i s the shame of the c i t y the e l d e r s tremble when they pass i t by I know your s e c r e t i s sometimes seen a t n i g h t on Stanley & s t e Ca t h e r i n e streets but the elders tremble they make more p a r k i n g l o t s & pour more s a l t on the snow EPITHALAMIUM & at t h i s time (as apples are green & oranges orange at the nucleus onlyi love i s , my love a l x l & now the sun) white with glowing, numbers not our numbers growing & to the rainbow points (my flowing angel from the sun) love i s yet a l x l BALLAD OF THE DEPARTING HUSBAND well i have sung the old songs too sung f o r me, sung f o r you the question i s what w i l l i do? what can i do when i t i s you have kicked me out with one good shoe? where w i l l i go who do i know who cares f o r me as i f o r you? fuck o f f you s h i t you sd to me — well should i drown i n the cold blue sea? or wait u n t i l you've had y r f i l l of other men from t h i s damn town? or fuck around as you^seem s t i l l to think i want to? why not you say you've knocked me up fucked o f f , fucked up, & had y r fun with just about anyone with a b i g bum, two t i t s , or even one. i t ' s my turn now you l i t t l e screw & i w i l l fuck who i want to. o wife o wife i t cannot be but i f i t ' s so — SUSANi REMEMBERING/FORGETTING more moment than mouth there i s something waiting to be forgotten but now a l l i s reversed & the g i f t we make of the past jumps l i k e jack from the box to t e r r i f y again we are children thinking we are growing up for g e t t i n g we are already giants of memory, movement a thousand years old we must grow down no myth or alchemy or dream of love can operate alone & even when you leave me you open g i f t s no mouthccan close FOR SUSAN, FOR POETRY but that love i s the place we make our own mistakes you. i . l i k e water from stones a landscape of ri p p l e s vast y r body broken by joyous lakes where the wings of each b i r d are anointed the old ones could never say what we must the old ones unmelted beards serpent eyes set i n c l i f f s to see the comings the goings "the terrors of the abyss" whose children we are white father of wind i n whose beginnings seeds of new defiance breed l i k e cones, slowly, the oldest trees where they move / my love i n y r mind & body as word, finger, tongue, cock are stopped & move again vast garden of lakes where flowers are f i s h d e l i c a t e embrace you receive me with & always to confess the single curse madness makes us bless. AND ALL THESE THINGS ARE TRUE and a l l these things are true I love you I am a f r a i d to move or make a noise nothing should disturb you perfect as you are neither small nor large but everything i s an image or a sound you refuse to put l i m i t s to but what l i m i t s are your strange lungs breathing a b e a u t i f u l guitar what sounds you l e t me hear the s t o r i e s you've t o l d a l l things past have t h e i r l i m i t s , they have no hold on you I wanted to say I know what's happening everywhere i n the world, down the s t r e e t don't t e l l me the news l e t me remember whatever I* ve known through you you are almost asleep and s t i l l you t e l l me what to say, how f a r the l i m i t s are the limbs of you there they were» 3 of them a l l blonde. my wife * s away i thought so i crossed the street & followed them down the block down by the park i n the dark & c a l l e d my dog put him on the scent & we went where they went. what a conspiracy what a lark should i murder them i n the park? or on the beach where the fog & the waters r o l l ? or rape them one by one, or two by two or three by three down there by the sea? the thing conceived i n the darkness of the well, three drunk men emerge from the shack hidden by the b i l l -board. the four star hotel, the room of dreams, l i t by red bulbs, there i s no sound connecting jjhe streets, they wander, we wonder where we are, use the phone, forget. i t wasn't easy, i t took, i t was the l i g h t of the sky we were a f r a i d of somehow, though the l i g h t & the voices were simple. the ghosts assemble on the h i l l s t h e i r music i s the l e v e l l i n e of l i g h t s we are i n awe of them they move toward us APT. 4B death masks a l l over the damn place, someone's crooked hand gives you a glass of winei long f i n g e r n a i l s , twitching eyes, "black & white beardsley p r i n t s , posters f o r black l i g h t , someone screaming over & over fuck fuck fuck fuck, death masks of beethoven, baudelaire, beardsley, pound, b o t t i c e l l i , olson, dudek, bellow, hundreds of them, aimless violence hovering i n the a i r l i k e l i g h t n i n g waiting f o r someone with-out h i s rubbers, no trees to hide under, thank god. don't mention i t , some psychic guy out of his tree whispers from across the room, the smoke d r i f t i n g out of his n o s t r i l s l i k e exhaust from the twin pipes of a jaguar, eyes orange as amber turn signals, someone rewingc the engine of an old bmw i n the corner, neon scarabs f l a s h from the c e i l i n g , the old bike bellows l i k e a wounded minotaur without a labyrinth & nowhere else to go THE IMAGE (a preliminary note) they hung him from the c e i l i n g by his head a l i t t l e metal s k u l l cap from a l i g h t f i x t u r e chain screwed into his cranium with an octopus of wire radiating from the s k u l l cap they twined around his shoulders arms torso legs so he hung i n the middle of the room with his arms stretched out c r u c i f i e d i n space between c e i l i n g & f l o o r a l l his weight depending from the metal s k u l l cap & screw they t o l d him he would l i v e through i t a l l to the end f e e l the whole of i t know with pr e c i s i o n each stage l e v e l layer & worse understand i t & share his pain with the audience watching i t on cablevision the cameras i n the corners ready to give four simultaneous views of his body hanging as i f weightless/ he f e l t the veight /& spinning so that the room seemed to turn on the axis of his body i n the narrow c i r c l e marked by the microphones ready to sound to carry his voice screams to the audience watching channel eight i t s screen s p l i t into fragments when the electrodes covering his body l i k e l i t t l e black spiders burst with bolts of e l e c t r i c a l energy his skin pain shivers through them & more one wall was covered with a bank of monitors he saw himself he saw them once twice three times four times over & over he could see himself see them the movements everywhere carried in the blue silver tv light his body their faces the walls the screens the instruments the dials the gauges the knives the scissors the wires the tapes shadows floating in blue •; silver cold flame light eyes lenses concentric opening closing until the light steadies to pulse blue/silver/blue/ silver/blue/silver & then the blue silver light like glass shimmering in waves told him he would have to relive the whole cycle arrest t r i a l sentence execution in this they were immaculate TAPE 18B such images»insane words cannot follow the beatings of the wings you don't know where/who you are but you imagine your shadows passing behind before around your body & yourself within those wings as they caress the contours of the hidden c i t y & you imagine no one sees or hears only you are aware of how they connect with yourtbody as you move down the street & how the wings pass over whatever you pass before there i s no t e l l i n g the madness of these wings seeds put i n the ground are picked by birds before they blossom there i s no t e l l i n g the furrows i n the earth they too have wings i n v i s i b l e to a l l but those who f l y by them 12/12/70 invasions of light*, occasions f o r the c r i s s cross of shadow, sorrow/all things i n l i g h t but with the black moon stained b i t s of bright glass the jeweled cave love makes now« ruby b u t t e r f l y incense wingsJ i should have explained,then, long ago but "we, too, collapse beneath 'the weight of things done & said,* of the l i e s we have accepted" & a l l such i l l u s i o n s of interruptions & the one great one of paradox. though some indulge i n disorder a l l must come to rest margined i n solitude the words deny not meaning, but t h e i r love f o r opposite (the children i n the safe warm bath f l o a t & stand as i f t h e i r bodies makers an oceanl "astonishment i s the beginning!" THE SILVER CIRCLE the s i l v e r c i r c l e returns to energy bl e s s t are eyes that see the garden f i l l s with snow c r y s t a l flowers / white trees melt i n y r hair, y r mouth to make i n v i s i b l e snow tracks on y r tongue inside the s i l v e r c i r c l e inside the s i l v e r r a i n b i r d tracks / dog tracks the animal's t a i l dragging i n the d r i f t s nose into i t / ears up the trees l i s t e n f o r once f o r many pass t h e i r shoulders so softened with snow t h e i r bodies begin to etch i n v i s i b l y into the so f t ebreath/snow a i r l but the car t i r e s spinning refused to go up the h i l l / the dri v e r refused to go down the snow does not end so simply with desire f o r the sun or peace you may only bring your solitude to the snow but the snow-woman waits l i k e a white monument , sleeping, surrounded by, l i t t l e ones she waits f o r that ocean, the sun to make of her an ocean / i n the garden the pond i s frozen, snow s i t s i n the garden chairs, cat p r i n t s surround the edge, the pond, the chairs, the prin t s overflow./ "the border exists only i n the mind" or so I thought u n t i l I saw that cold garden's meditation: "there i s nothing but music or love, f o r that I would k i l l " that i s what the snow-woman knows her breath l i f t e d i n the a i r l i k e a c u r l i n g smoke signals the dawn» " l e t music & thunder be one" TERMINAL ZONE ancient aching break over impatient evening, set f o r t h y r numbers 1 2 Jt be unaware beware the siquoia, cypress, pine, elm maple yew branches notes shine hear » what i s most c l e a r what r i d d l e s night silence f l i g h t whose turn to solo i n the big machine i f i t comes to t h i s , what matters, what matter i s offshore i s o l a t o s forgot maggots are not what matters the dream i s to be discarded from the bomb bay of the bird/machine stones at the temple to go alone, afoot to the jewel (hidden the f l e s h scraped open by f i n g e r n a i l s pain i n the wound of s k u l l s the brain hurts finger i n the open womb radar turns the c i r c l e i n a single sweep what matter now that dance pass that dream i n trance or sleep — •Je te salue de l a Foret P e t r i f i e e * *I hunt among stones' 'Ou plus r i e n n'est debout' 2/ "THE SHRIEK OF THE DEATH'S-HEAD MOTH1 water colors hearts & flowers rome / paris / venice / munich strange transplants / pollen f l o a t s through wave patterns i n trees & stones to hypnotize eyes, ears to sew shut oceans' desire t the v i s u a l s i t u a t i o n i s an anti-aesthetic determinant the heart flowers with kisses to show a kisscoated antiperspirant sinks beneath his wisdom l i k e a stone sewn inside the f l e s h neat s t i t c h i n g of the moth white & "black of the waves blown back butts turned up i n the water bottles the double image of the moth wrought i n s i l k a drop of diamond rot from the edge lovers lean from the window ledge smoke d r i f t i n g from t h e i r eyes ss smoke rings f o r t h e i r l i e s i n the circus r i n g the bone i s dancing the skeleton dance each bone stamped with stars & hearts & flowers & s k u l l s a poem i s a reading l i s t of patterns someone missed o hear the bones are k i s s i n g as they crossI 3/ IN SOME DARK & SECRET DAY i n some dark & secret day what i s un expected i s a r e f u s a l to obey when they cross sun & moon the beads break out the sky sweats angels of new disorder f l e s h / wood / stone i n majestic sign of t h e i r crossing s o l e i l n o i r de joie the black sun of joy arrives to annoy those who thrive on the fearfulness of the people the beads of l i g h t break out the crown of creation breaks out & out of the black nest of the sun comes desire — though we have marathons f o r money we refuse suicide or murder & here, where the weakness of the w i l l comes i n , we must begini there i s only one word f o r what we want revolution to make us lovers of the world lovfirs of the world unite". or expect to die i f what we dream of love i s l i e V A TOI LE ROSEAU D'ORPHEE to you the reed of orpheus must be the engagement of p o s s i b i l i t y to refuse the f l e s h as c r u c i f i x "from the depths of the millenary pact which i n anguish has f o r object to maintain the i n t e g r i t y of the word" & the laughter of the children as a sign there i s no mystery worth waiting f o r i n the s t r a t a of the brain reived out l i k e rock d r i l l e d exploded dynamite f o r f i r e water & ice these are necessities food a i r water f i r e what men know themselves i n vs the simple made devious i n complex machines the m i l i t a r y pact the pentagon the resourceful abuse of resources re« the source of a l l we are / to re discover i n the reeds at the r i v e r ' s edge food to eat a i r to breathe water to drink f i r e to love seeds of the flower i n which we breed defiance of the planners plan f o r death which i s to l i v e i n nothing but the f o u l mysteries of money VANCOUVER VORTEX (FIRST MOVEMENT) 15 mountain shadows spin into the room the edge of the r a i n forest moves forward the t a l l pines know t h e i r branches are being murdered they l i s t e n with care as the trucks drag them o f f to be tortured into poems "to contain anger i n works of a r t " & everyone knows when they hear the word the forest i s f a l l i n g the earth s u f f e r i n g her beauty into vortex into green revenge 

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