Book Read Free

Collected Poems of Muriel Rukeyser

Page 43

by Janet Kaufman


  Far in New Jersey, among split-level houses,

  behind the concrete filling-station I found

  a yellow building and the flags of prayer.

  Two Tibetans in their saffron bowed, priests

  of their robes, their banners, their powers.

  Little Tibetan children playing stickball

  on the black road.

  Day conscious and unconscious.

  Words on the air.

  Before the great

  images arrive, riderless horses.

  Words on an uproar silent hour.

  In our own time.

  ORGY

  There were three of them that night.

  They wanted it to happen in the first woman's room.

  The man called her; the phone rang high.

  Then she put fresh lipstick on.

  Pretty soon he rang the bell.

  She dreamed, she dreamed, she dreamed.

  She scarcely looked him in the face

  But gently took him to his place.

  And after that the bell, the bell.

  They looked each other in the eyes,

  A hot July it was that night,

  And he then slow took off his tie,

  And she then slow took off her scarf,

  The second one took off her scarf,

  And he then slow his heavy shoe,

  And she then slow took off her shoe,

  The other one took off her shoe,

  He then took off his other shoe,

  The second one, her other shoe,

  A hot July it was that night.

  And he then slow took off his belt,

  And she then slow took off her belt,

  The second one took off her belt…

  THE OVERTHROW OF ONE O'CLOCK AT NIGHT

  is my concern. That's this moment,

  when I lean on my elbows out the windowsill

  and feel the city among its time-zones, among its seas,

  among its late night news, the pouring in

  of everything meeting, wars, dreams, winter night.

  Light in snowdrifts causing the young girls

  lying awake to fall in love tonight

  alone in bed; or the little children

  half world over tonight rained on by fire—that's us—

  calling on somebody—that's us—to come

  and help them.

  Now I see at the boundary of darkness

  extreme of moonlight.

  Alone. All my hopes

  scattered in people quarter world away

  half world away, out of all hearing.

  Tell myself:

  Trust in experience. And in the rhythms.

  The deep rhythms of your experience.

  AMONG ROSES

  Lying here among grass, am I dead am I sleeping

  amazed among silences you touch me never

  Here deep under, the small white moon

  cries like a dime and do I hear?

  The sun gone copper or I dissolve

  no touch no touch a tactless land

  denies my death my fallen hand

  silence runs down the riverbeds

  One tall wind walks over my skin

  breeze, memory

  bears to my body (as the world fades)

  going in

  very late in the world's night to see roses opening

  Remember, love, lying among roses.

  Did we not lie among roses?

  WHAT I SEE

  Lie there, in sweat and dream, I do, and “there”

  Is here, my bed, on which I dream

  You, lying there, on yours, locked, pouring love,

  While I tormented here see in my reins

  You, perfectly at climax. And the lion strikes.

  I want you with whatever obsessions come—

  I wanted your obsession to be mine

  But if it is that unknown half-suggested strange

  Other figure locked in your climax, then

  I here, I want you and the other, want your obsession, want

  Whatever is locked into you now while I sweat and dream.

  BELIEVING IN THOSE INEXORABLE LAWS

  Believing in those inexorable laws

  After long rebellion and long discipline

  I am cut down to the moment in all my flaws

  Creeping to the feet of my master the sun

  On the sea-beach, tides beaten by the moon woman,

  And will not think of you, but lie at my full length

  Among the great breakers. I find the clear outwater

  Shine crash speaking of truth behind the law.

  The many-following waves turn into you.

  I see in vision that northern bay : pines, villages,

  And the flat water suddenly rears up

  The high wave races against all edicts, taller,

  Finally powerful. Water becomes your mouth,

  And all laws all polarities your truth.

  SONG : LOVE IN WHOSE RICH HONOR

  Love

  in whose rich honor

  I stand looking from my window

  over the starved trees of a dry September

  Love

  deep and so far forbidden

  is bringing me

  a gift

  to claw at my skin

  to break open my eyes

  the gift longed for so long

  The power

  to write

  out of the desperate ecstasy at last

  death and madness

  NIOBE NOW

  Niobe

  wild

  with unbelief

  as all

  her ending

  turns to stone

  Not gentle

  weeping

  and souvenirs

  but hammering

  honking

  agonies

  Forty-nine tragic years

  are done

  and the twentieth century

  not begun:

  All tears,

  all tears,

  all tears.

  Water

  from her rock

  is sprung

  and in this water

  lives a seed

  That must endure

  and grow

  and shine

  beasts, gardens

  at last rivers

  A man

  to be born

  to start again

  to tear

  a woman

  from his side

  And wake

  to start

  the world again.

  SONG : THE STAR IN THE NETS OF HEAVEN

  The star in the nets of heaven blazed past your breastbone,

  Willing to shine among the nets of your growth,

  The nets of your love,

  The bonds of your dreams.

  AIR

  Flowers of air

  with lilac defining air;

  buildings of air

  with walls defining air;

  this May, people of air

  advance along the street;

  framed in their bodies, air,

  their eyes speaking to me,

  air in their mouths made

  into live meanings.

  GIFT

  the child, the poems, the child, the poems, the journeys

  back and forth across our long country

  of opposites,

  and through myself, through you, away from you, toward

  you, the dreams of madness and of an

  impossible complete time—

  gift be forgiven.

  CRIES FROM CHIAPAS

  Hunger

  of mountains

  spoke

  from a tiger's throat.

  Tiger-tooth peaks.

  The moon.

  A thousand mists

  turning.

  Desires of mountains

  like the desires of women,

  moon-drawn,

  distant
,

  clear black among

  confusions of silver.

  Women of Chiapas!

  Dream-borne

  voices of women.

  Splinters of mountains,

  broken obsidian,

  silver.

  White tigers

  haunting

  your forehead here

  sloped in shadow—

  black hungers of women,

  confusion

  turning like tigers

  And your voice—

  I am

  almost asleep

  almost awake

  in your arms.

  THE WAR COMES INTO MY ROOM

  Knowing again

  that nothing

  has been spoken

  not now

  not this night time

  the broken singing

  as we move

  or of

  the endless war

  our lives

  that above all

  there is not said

  nothing

  of this moment

  in the poems

  our love

  in all the songs

  now I will

  live out

  this moment

  saying

  it

  in my breath

  to you

  across the air

  DELTA POEMS

  Among leaf-green

  this morning, they

  walk near water-blue,

  near water-green

  of the river-mouths

  this boy this girl

  they die with their heads near each other,

  their young mouths

  A sharp glint out among the sea

  These are lives coming out of their craft

  Men who resemble….

  Sound is bursting the sun

  Two dead bodies against the leaves

  A young man and a girl

  Their heads close together

  No weapons, only grasses and waves

  Lives, grasses

  Something is flying through the high air over the river-mouth country,

  Something higher than the look can go,

  Higher than herons fly,

  Higher than planes is it?

  It is nothing now

  But now it is sound beyond bigness

  Turns into the hugeness : death. A leaf shakes on the sky.

  Of the children in flames, of the grown man

  his face burned to the bones, of the full woman

  her body stopped from the nipples down, nursing

  the live strong baby at her breast

  I do not speak.

  I am a woman

  in a New York room

  late in the twentieth century.

  I am crying. I will write no more.—

  Young man and girl walking along the sea,

  among the leaves.

  Fresh hot day among the river-mouths,

  yellow-green leaves green rivers running to sea.

  A young man and a girl

  go walking in the delta country

  The war has lasted their entire lifetime.

  They look at each other with their mouths.

  They look at each other with their whole bodies.

  A glint as of bright fire, metal over the sea-waters.

  A girl has died upon green leaves,

  a young man has died against the sky.

  A girl is walking printed against green leaves,

  A young man walks printed upon the sky.

  I remember you. We walked near the harbor.

  You a young man believing in the future of summer,

  in yellow, in green, in touch, in entering,

  in the night-sky, in the gifts of this effort.

  He believes in January,

  he believes in the pulses beating along his body,

  he believes in her young year.

  I walk near the rivers.

  They are walking again at the edge of waters.

  They are killed again near the lives, near the waves.

  They are walking, their heads are close together,

  their mouths are close as they die.

  A girl and a young man walk near the water.

  SPIRALS AND FUGUES

  Spirals and fugues, the power most like music

  Turneth all worlds to meaning

  And meaning to matter, all continually,

  And sweeps in the sacred motion,

  Spirals and fugues its lifetime,

  To move my life to yours,

  and all women and men and the children in their light,

  The little stone in the middle of the road, its veins and

  patience,

  Moving the constellations of all things.

  ANEMONE

  My eyes are closing, my eyes are opening.

  You are looking into me with your waking look.

  My mouth is closing, my mouth is opening.

  You are waiting with your red promises.

  My sex is closing, my sex is opening.

  You are singing and offering : the way in.

  My life is closing, my life is opening.

  You are here.

  FIGHTING FOR ROSES

  After the last freeze, in easy air,

  Once the danger is past, we cut them back severely;

  Pruning the weakest hardest, pruning for size

  Of flower, we deprived will not deprive the sturdy.

  The new shoots are preserved, the future bush

  Cut down to a couple of young dormant buds.

  But the early sun of April does not burn our lives :

  Light straight and fiery brings back the enemies.

  Claw, jaw, and crawler, all those that devour.

  We work with smoke against the robber blights,

  With copper against rust; the season fights itself

  In deep strong rich loam under swarm attacks.

  Head hidden from the wind, the power of form

  Rises among these brightnesses, thorned and blowing.

  Where they glow on the earth, water-drops tremble on them.

  Soon we must cut them back, against damage of storms.

  But those days gave us flower budded on flower,

  A moment of light achieved, deep in the air of roses.

  FOR MY SON

  You come from poets, kings, bankrupts, preachers,

  attempted bankrupts, builders of cities, salesmen,

  the great rabbis, the kings of Ireland, failed drygoods

  storekeepers, beautiful women of the songs,

  great horsemen, tyrannical fathers at the shore of ocean,

  the western mothers looking west beyond from their

  windows,

  the families escaping over the sea hurriedly and by night—

  the roundtowers of the Celtic violet sunset,

  the diseased, the radiant, fliers, men thrown out of town,

  the man bribed by his cousins to stay out of town,

  teachers, the cantor on Friday evening, the lurid

  newspapers,

  strong women gracefully holding relationship, the Jewish girl

  going to parochial school, the boys racing their iceboats

  on the Lakes,

  the woman still before the diamond in the velvet window,

  saying “Wonder of nature.”

  Like all men,

  you come from singers, the ghettoes, the famines, wars and

  refusal of wars, men who built villages

  that grew to our solar cities, students, revolutionists, the

  pouring of buildings, the market newspapers,

  a poor tailor in a darkening room,

  a wilderness man, the hero of mines, the astronomer, a

  white-faced woman hour on hour teaching piano and

  her crippled wrist,

  like all men,

  you have not seen your father's face

  but he is known to
you forever in song, the coast of the skies,

  in dream, wherever you find man playing his

  part as father, father among our light, among our

  darkness,

  and in your self made whole, whole with yourself and

  whole with others,

  the stars your ancestors.

  POEM

  I lived in the first century of world wars.

  Most mornings I would be more or less insane,

  The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,

  The news would pour out of various devices

  Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.

  I would call my friends on other devices;

  They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.

  Slowly I would get to pen and paper,

  Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.

  In the day I would be reminded of those men and women

  Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,

  Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.

  As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,

  We would try to imagine them, try to find each other.

  To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile

  Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,

  Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means

  To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,

  To let go the means, to wake.

  I lived in the first century of these wars.

  THE POWER OF SUICIDE

  The potflower on the windowsill says to me

  In words that are green-edged red leaves :

  Flower flower flower flower

  Today for the sake of all the dead Burst into flower.

  1963

  THE SEEMING

  for Helen Lynd

  Between the illuminations of great mornings

  there comes the dailiness of doing and being

  and the hand as it makes as it brightens burnishes

  the surfaces seemings mirrors of the world

  We do not know the springs of these colored and loving

  acts or what triggers birth what sleep is

  but name them as we name bird-wakened morning

  having our verbs of the world

  to which all action seems

  to resolve, being

 

‹ Prev