There is a saying that a picture is worth a thousand words, but the power of the alphabet in its ultimate state can alter a human life in the most profound way, the life of writer as well as reader.
In this gallery, the written page, through the instrument of words, becomes the wall in a pre-historic cave, communicating without formula or self-consciousness a human life lived and shared.
1
...... & in my nightmare, I am drowning in a sea which was once wave upon rock, hitting hard, carving forever marks on future ancient stones.
2
Night
window
louvered
the street without people
or cars
houses
porch lights
silence
no planes in the sky
no birds on wings
of peril
they are safe in their nests
& so am I
out there is vacuum
it follows me to my nest
how to glue my broken wings
how not to die
Fog
it is thick
& impenetrable
this louvered window
slats wobbly
from so much
opening & closing
3
Night
& quiet
a graveyard without limestone or granite
without silent shrines
& plastic wreaths
but death
the smell of it
under every sheet
4
5:48 A.M.
The darkness is still valid
it clings to life after death
like the Cicada
on the dogwood leaf
days later I went back
to show someone
how death can resemble life
but it was gone
& the mystery remains
did it fall to the ground
of its own inability to hang on
or was it eaten by some bird
who was fooled into thinking
he had a live one there
& swallowed death instead
not knowing how to regurgitate
it stayed there
inside him
growing immensely in death
as never before in life
Some things we never understand
like how this Saturday morning
the darkness around me
led me back to the brown one
& to the green leaf
of the dogwood
its berries just beginning
to color
5
There is a light burning in the space between the two houses across the street. It is an upstairs room. I have never seen what is behind the light. He or she remains mystery.
There is a new book on the Russian people. A book of photographs by Luc Delahaye. There is despair & drugs. Alcoholism is everywhere.
& on TV, in Pennsylvania, young people share needles & get HIV along with their highs
& as I write, in Russia & in the Pennsylvanias across this country, lifeless bodies, sirens, & sometimes brought back to life.
& Clifford thinks it is healthier to lie....likes my work to be soft & as harmless as a kitten sleeping at his feet. When I showed him the work of Holly Roberts....haunting primitive figures, part photograph, part drawing & paint, all fragmented & in pain, he said,
"Now she's really manic-depressive."
I said
"Why is it that whenever an artist
tells the truth, she or he is sick?"
There was no answer.
I walk over to my shuttered living room window & look out.
The light is still there.
There is loneliness here.
6
4:08 A.M.
I picked the last pine cone off the ground when this early morning was still yesterday. There are no more on the Eastern Pine I planted ten years ago.
This is its first litter
& I take the basket down from the bookshelf & place the long newly born with its siblings.
It is still wet with birth juice.
& on TV I watch them come out coated with the stuff. Even the black babies look white.
7
There is a film about a young girl who interprets for her
deaf parents. Someone gives her a clarinet and she bonds
with it.
Her parents are threatened.
I must get this film.
What was it that Mary said at lunch on Friday?
"If he grows & she doesn't,
that marriage won't last."
It is an ancient sorrow. We are human elite until our lesser selves break free.
& a few weeks ago, Clifford & I were discussing Michelangelo's Sistine Ceiling....God & man reaching out to each other....two fingers straining to touch.
Clifford said
"It's static electricity."
I said
"It is man needing desperately to be
divine & never quite making the grade....
It is God wanting desperately for Human
to be a worthy companion
& both struggle to touch."
8
Process
Formulas
Robots
like rabbits conceived
in a metallic womb
BA
MFA
& the cultured
come to the galleries
with swatches
of carpeting
& drapery
to get just the right shade
wine & cheese
& then they leave
Who will tell the Emperor
so powerful & mighty
that the suit he wears
is really quite bare
9
EXECUTIVE
The uniformed one
with medals on his chest
I asked him once if they were
heavy
uncomfortable
he looked over his shoulder
& said quietly
"They're very heavy
have been for a long time"
& out of the Great Hall
another one
medals
from shoulder to shoulder
& all the way down
& as he approached
my friend took
a different turn
as if he had been on a wrong road
or something
& suddenly discovered
his error
the medals weren't heavy at all
& besides
even if they were
he was proud of them all
& as I stared in disbelief
his features changed
from soft to hard
I knew him once
a long time ago
I still mourn the loss
...
I think of him now
in that tank
with all the other lobster
barely moving
starving
their thorns
pointed & sharp
digging into each other
no sound
not even one cry of pain
I stand before the thick glass
I want to pluck him out
feed him
give him air
human
air
to breathe
10
You said I'm very intelligent
You said it three times
& I worried about that
that someday you would hate it
hate me
How is it that a woman can give
her body
but not her mind
Some of us quit
pack it up
play dumb
until one day
we really are
11
She painted her face
as if it were a canvas
as if she were on exhibit
every day of her life
they buried her paints with her
like the
Egyptians
for the after-life
12
I am troubled still by women in photographs with thin straps
stuck in their behinds
all bent over so obligingly, devoid of dignity and
sense of self
The Nazis killed overtly
it's the subtleties that command ultimate vigilance
& defiance
13
Well we did the church thing.
The body was at the back, as they say, "lying in state"
I touched her arm & said
"Poor Grandma"
& all around me was her legacy
grandchildren & their children
crying babies preceding the hymns
There was the usual organ, and now something new, a
Baby Grand
& a hymn-numbered plaque on the wall
The priest was in white instead of traditional black
Two cassocked little girls at the side of the altar
assisting
but the empowerment of priesthood forever denied them by "infallible" decree
There were no bells at the consecration...The Host was
raised & lowered without fanfare
& on cue, there was an orgy of hands, shaking as many as
could be reached, saying, "Peace be with you"
The priest got in on it too
shook as many hands as he could get his on
& Grandma said nothing
not then
not ever
He praised her faith
said she was a good woman
The elephants in the circus dance on cue
14
I look out the louvered window. There is a sunset
over the house across the street. The house is empty.
On the lawn, a sign that reads FOR SALE in red, white & blue.
There is no sound. There are no people.
Soon night will begin.
I think of George Segal & his figures wrapped in
plaster-soaked bandages & the haunting silence of their
ghostly presence
& at the DIA, one of them removed from the courtyard
where it lived in more sober times
the guard said, "It's in the basement".
a graveyard without limestone or granite
without plastic wreaths
but one silent shrine in white plaster
still breathes