The influence of anxiety at the beginning of the succeeding century

The Surgery

It is not so hard to escape evil,
to follow the bland men from room
to room
carrying chains dog-eared Hugh
with his tail wagging
a dime for the bus-stop crapper
with the mint green lead pipe disappearing
through the high ceiling
and the window left open
to the sounds of a town creeping by-

the resurrection king
on the clapboard slapping breeze
a brick on the day’s news. Lil
has her tool kit and toiletries,
a check from the old folks home
an old brown coat
a child in tow
that abortion didn’t pay for.

the pacing prophet stood upwink
away from the stink of the sink,
odd fray from his rolled-up gabardines
drags from the sidewalk dust
snake trails in the desert;
at forty-eight, he had gone under the knife
pancreatic poisons to be served to the Fisher King
at the end of days
the more benign poisons being sold from the counter
at the restaurant, Lil figured a dime’s worth
wouldn’t hurt, a bit for the child
to cure his flapping eye,
a nip for the pain in her gum;

for what it’s worth,
Hugh had a cruel gaze
even at a young age.


2.-Mrs. Robinson


“Dee da dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee dee da dee, Doo da doo doo doo doo doo da doo”, tell me about pearls she said,
the sunlight dappling the blue water of the suburban pool
while the hoplites marched across the moor
selling plastic as the cure-all of the aquifer
the persistent malaise-the ark of the embryo

Hugh shacking up with some Chinese chick
talking German on the Starnbergersee
lilacs dancing in the mild Spring air
on the windowsill,

and down down down they went;

“Marie, hold on tight”
the sirocco in the canyon whirled
one of her breasts was exposed
all of the rest was dross
long lines of the dead deposed
upon the bridge;
the frigid room arranged to be looked upon,
reproductive cupid on the end table
the faux mantle displaying an imaginary family;
the expected guest
with sagging chest
aged beyond redress
smoke curling from his lips;

everyone naked
stuck to the windcut furniture.


3.-"HURRY UP, PLEASE IT'S TIME"


Most of it was gaffed up
stuffed in corners;
alleys away from the hot sun
still the stench was arboreal
and the rats made off with bits of violet cloth
to line the birthing chambers and front halls
of their palaces under the din.

After the burial of the head
many of the old trees were hacked into stumps,
a necessitation the sages implied,
though many years thereafter the sun
was a blazing cauldren.
Lil had several children
of stray men
with whom she slept upon the road.

Well met!, as Hugh would later say
dredging the boats from Mylae,
nothing’s changed mother`
there has been no tranfiguration
in the corpses
no lilacs violet in the gloom.
He would have to go back in the room
to watch the prophecies unrolled
by the old men
laughing as he did
as the tears tripped from their tired eyes,

maybe that was where it all went wrong.
on the courthouse steps
the years wore away the tobacco stains
and the gruff yelps of the settlers
drifted into song. Hugh settling
into a brown suit, the knot crooked
in his tie
using his connection to sew up acquisitions
all the while
da
da da
tereu-

Hugh will have turned
to the mapping of the brain
on the treadmill.
Ms. Windmill’s latest
“Report On Current Conditions”
scrolling beneath his watery eyes.


4.- so rudely forc'd


And maybe if he spilled the words real slow
and pulled the strings out tight;
they would understand the chapel;
the wounded king upon the withered throne
the cup spilled upon the Word of the Lord,

the woman with her comb
and the flames in the tip of the spear.

How will you weigh it?
The lilacs on the checkered table,
the people scattered about the room
lost in the flow of their separate tasks
always receding and receiving.

the spent leaves of the lilacs
coagulated but dying
rent from their central bone-
the domed air nothing more than a tomb.

The Latin phrase in the text means,
"When shall I be as the swallow?"

Tereu tereu
by rite sings
in the grotto stings
the body bound in white
drip drip drip
but no water.


5.- Emmaus


There is an elegy in the courtyard;
gathered round the burning barrels
brothers in patched tweed
chanting an electric creed--
an apple blossom special
wrapped in old weeds;

come down! they will return to their hovels
to write wills
cluttered with birdsong.
a diaspora of guano to be used as fuel
by children of long eye
singing the war in fragments
of spent grenades.

“the lilacs at the end of the world
spew poison,” said the drowned man
irrigating while the others wait
hands in the pockets of coats
fingering holes and hissing
to the tune of violet fire.

a borrowed fear
lame from falling through lean years
the jammed images smashing together
the hue squeezed out

and smeared.



6.- the third temple



“well now that’s done, and I’m glad it’s over.’
and so forced out licking the dust laden spit
and fallow still, oppressed. Children
in the shadow of the wall
flowers caught in mid-fall

A growl underlies remorse
machines rusting in the pit
from which the huge stones are dragged forth
grinding the bones to a fine flour
a preventive for the chill in the crowded room.

The arc of the grails is faithfully rendered
“I gave you fire and fear,” she said,
weary, her hand over eyes
resigned within her astral bed.

until they were asked there was none
not loom nor seed
and they carried nothing from the tomb.
Could an I not follow
subsequent, adjacent to follow
obsequious, naked to the day after?

Albert paces about the room;
he has dreamed of murder.
the toy soldiers faceless in the gloom;
he wonders if he should stop
whether there are too many
and none would be alone
crowding the high cliffs
pressed into the sea.

“Nature is a nasty bitch”
a payment in kind--
love hurting life;

looking down on a happy face
a cold dead happy face.