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Selected Poems (1968-2014)

Page 9

by Paul Muldoon


  of being stripped

  of their command of the vortex

  while having lost

  their common touch, they’ve been so long

  above it all.

  Medley for Morin Khur

  I

  The sound box is made of a horse’s head.

  The resonator is horse skin.

  The strings and bow are of horsehair.

  II

  The morin khur is the thoroughbred

  of Mongolian violins.

  Its call is the call of the stallion to the mare.

  III

  A call which may no more be gainsaid

  than that of jinn to jinn

  through jasmine-weighted air.

  IV

  A call that may no more be gainsaid

  than that of blood kin to kin

  through a body-strewn central square.

  V

  A square in which they’ll heap the horses’ heads

  by the heaps of horse skin

  and the heaps of horsehair.

  from MAGGOT

  A Hare at Aldergrove

  A hare standing up at last on his own two feet

  in the blasted grass by the runway may trace his lineage to the great

  assembly of hares that, in the face of what might well have looked like defeat,

  would, in 1963 or so, migrate

  here from the abandoned airfield at Nutt’s Corner, not long after Marilyn Monroe

  overflowed from her body stocking

  in Something’s Got to Give. These hares have themselves so long been given to row

  against the flood that when a King

  of the Hares has tried to ban bare knuckle fighting, so wont

  are they to grumble and gripe

  about what will be acceptable and what won’t

  they’ve barely noticed that the time is ripe

  for them to shake off the din

  of a pack of hounds that has caught their scent

  and take in that enormity just as I’ve taken in

  how my own DNA is 87 % European and East Asian 13 %.

  So accustomed had they now grown

  to a low-level human hum that, despite the almost weekly atrocity

  in which they’d lost one of their own

  to a wheeled blade, they followed the herd towards this eternal city

  as if they’d had a collective change of heart.

  My own heart swells now as I watch him nibble on a shoot

  of blaeberry or heather while smoothing out a chart

  by which he might divine if our Newark-bound 757 will one day overshoot

  the runway about which there so often swirled

  rumours of Messerschmitts.

  Clapper-lugged, cleft-lipped, he looks for all the world

  as if he might never again put up his mitts

  despite the fact that he shares a Y chromosome

  with Niall of the Nine Hostages,

  never again allow his om

  to widen and deepen by such easy stages,

  never relaunch his campaign as melanoma has relaunched its campaign

  in a friend I once dated,

  her pain rising above the collective pain

  with which we’ve been inundated

  as this one or that has launched an attack

  to the slogan of ‘Brits Out’ or ‘Not an Inch’

  or a dull ack-ack

  starting up in the vicinity of Ballynahinch,

  looking for all the world as if he might never again get into a fluster

  over his own entrails,

  never again meet lustre with lustre

  in the eye of my dying friend, never establish what truly ails

  another woman with a flesh wound

  found limping where a hare has only just been shot, never again bewitch

  the milk in the churn, never swoon as we swooned

  when Marilyn’s white halter-top dress blew up in The Seven Year Itch,

  in a flap now only as to whether

  we should continue to tough it out till

  something better comes along or settle for this salad of blaeberry and heather

  and a hint of common tormentil.

  Lateral

  In the province of Gallia Narbonensis and the region of Nemausus there is a marsh called Latera where dolphins and men co-operate to catch fish.

  – PLINY THE ELDER, Natural History

  In spite of a dolphin wearing through, every two hours, his outer layer

  of conveyor-belt polymer, in spite of the spill of venom

  by which his affiliates used to lure

  mullet into their nets having taken its course

  through his veins, he simply won’t hear of how his affiliates outsource

  their dirty work to another ring of the plenum.

  Even the blue heron may backpedal

  as he pins a medal

  to his uniformed chest while vaunting cutoff denims,

  yet a dolphin won’t rethink his having left it to men

  to send mixed signals to the mullahs they processed in some holding pen.

  Quail

  Forty years in the wilderness

  of Antrim and Fermanagh

  where the rime would deliquesce

  like tamarisk-borne manna

  and the small-shot of hail

  was de-somethinged. Defrosted.

  This is to say nothing of the flocks of quail

  now completely exhausted

  from having so long entertained an

  inordinately soft spot for the hard man

  like Redmond O’Hanlon or Roaring Hanna

  who delivers himself up only under duress

  after forty years in the wilderness

  of Antrim and Fermanagh.

  The Humours of Hakone

  I

  A corduroy road over a quag had kept me on the straight and narrow.

  Now something was raising a stink.

  A poem decomposing around what looked like an arrow.

  Her stomach contents ink.

  Too late to cast about for clues

  either at the purikura, or ‘sticker-photo booth’, or back at the Pagoda.

  Too late to establish by autolysis, not to speak of heat loss,

  the precise time of death on the road to Edo.

  Who knew ‘forensic’ derived from forum,

  which senator’s sword sealed the deal?

  All I had to go on was this clog she’d taken as her platform,

  this straight and narrow hair, this panty-hose heel.

  I thought of how I’d once been inclined to grub

  through the acidic soil

  for a panty-hose toe or some such scrap

  of evidence. Whereas Mount Fuji had yet to come to a head like a boil

  about to crown its career,

  it was too late to extrapolate from the cooling rate of fat

  in a mortuary drawer

  the rate of cooling in a body that threw off merely this sticker photo.

  II

  It was now far too late to know if this was even the scene of the crime.

  Too late to ascertain from the serial number of a breast implant

  if this was the same girl I’d seen in the purikura near the tearoom

  back in Kyoto. Too late to determine if a salivary gland

  might have secreted its critical enzyme

  or, as her belly resumed its verdure,

  implored an eye to give up its vitreous potassium

  as a nun from a mendicant order

  might unthinkingly draw in her voluminous

  yellow robe to implore one for a little buckwheat.

  Too late to put one’s head into the noose

  of the world as into the air pocket

  of a capsized boat and swab the vitreous humour

  off an eyeball. I’d read somewhere that the Japanese love of kitsch

  is nowhere more

 
evident than in the craze for these sticker-photo booths which

  go even further to reinforce

  not only the heels of panty hose worn under a kimono

  but the impression that phosphorus

  might still be a common element in flash photography. Dead common.

  III

  Too late to determine how long the girl I’d also glimpsed at the hot spring

  had been beleaguered by pupae.

  By day four the skin would have peeled from her thigh like a fine-mesh stocking.

  I thought of De Mundi Transitu. Columbanus at Bobbio.

  I thought of how I’d planned not to keep my end of the bargain

  I drew up over that little cup of char

  back in the Kyoka Ryokan.

  I’d promised then I would willingly abjure

  my right to eat globefish later that night in Santora

  and enjoy my own little brush

  with death. Too late to determine in which mountain sanitaria

  the lepers had in fact been held. Too late to ascertain if Roshi

  belonged to the Tokugawa clan with their triple-hollyhock mon

  and their boat laid up for winter in shrink-wrap.

  Who knew that humus might lie beneath ‘humane’?

  Too late to deduce if the father of this girl in her geisha robe

  had met her mother on the main drag

  of Waxahachie, Texas, while he worked on the Superconducting Super Collider.

  Too late to scour the scene for a kimono swatch or a toe rag

  to send back to the lab for a culture.

  IV

  It was far too late to have forsworn

  my ambition to eat globefish in an attempt to buck this tiresome trend

  towards peace and calm. Too late to establish if the shorn

  head of a mendicant nun might send

  a signal back to the father of the girl I glimpsed on the Tokaido line

  who had himself worked on the antilock

  braking system of the bullet train. Too late to find a chalk outline

  never mind the metallic

  smell of blood on the corduroy

  road to Edo. Too late for this girl to release an endorphin

  to allow her to brave the nishikigoi,

  or ‘braided carp’, which might have been the only ones to raven

  on her foot soles. At Ryoan-ji a monk must rake and re-rake

  the gravel with a birch-wood tine

  till it looks like a series of waves always just about to break.

  Too late to examine the small intestine

  never mind swab vitreous potassium off an eyeball.

  Too late to take in firsthand

  the impression left on a sticker-photo-booth wall

  of that great world at which this one may merely hint. Merely hint.

  V

  Too late to luxuriate in an onsen, or ‘communal bath made of cypress’,

  and ponder an Elastoplast

  that must have covered some minor bruise

  winking from the depths. Too late to send it back to the analyst

  with a swatch of sackcloth

  or a panty-hose shred or a straight hair from her braid.

  Too late to don a latex glove

  and examine the corduroy road with its maggot brood

  that traces itself back to the days of the Tokugawa shogunate

  when Mount Fuji itself was coming to a head.

  Who knew the body is a footnote

  to the loss of its own heat

  and the gases released when it begins to disintegrate

  underlie a protruding tongue?

  Too late to retrieve from the onsen in the shape of a giant gourd

  that smelled like a lab’s formaldehyde tank

  her fancy-freighted skull that scarcely made a dent

  in the pillow from which only buckwheat would now ever sprout.

  Too late to divine from her stomach contents

  the components of a metaphor that must now forever remain quite separate.

  VI

  It was far too late to reconstruct the train station bento box

  she bought at Kyoto-eki the night before the night she took her vows

  and threw up in the hollyhocks.

  Too late to figure out if the Tokugawa clan would refuse

  a plainclothes escort

  to a less than fully fledged geisha.

  Too late to insist that the body of a poem is no less sacred

  than a temple with its banner gash

  though both stink to high heaven.

  Who knew that Budai is often confused with the Buddha?

  Too late to divine

  that what was now merely the air pocket of a capsized boat

  had been a poem decomposing around a quill.

  Too late to chart the flow

  of purge fluid from a skull

  that scarcely made a dent in the old buckwheat pillow

  despite the metaphor that might have sustained her in her sorrow

  as she, too, attempted to buck

  this tiresome trend and alighted at the new station at Kazamatsuri

  and felt, for the first time in years, the wind at her back.

  VII

  Whereas one might still try to reconcile the incorporeal

  poem to the image of a fleshed-out Columbanus in a communal bath

  his Regula Monachorum, or ‘Monastic Rule’,

  hardly extended to the girl in the sticker-photo booth

  who was yet to board the bullet train.

  It was far too late to establish the interval

  between her being so blissfully carefree and so balefully carrion.

  Too late to deduce from the life cycle of a blowfly

  a scenario that would not beggar

  description less belief. Whereas I recognized the steel blue of one Musca

  vomitoria, I couldn’t connect the girl from the purikura

  with the steel-blue mask

  her sticker photo showed the world. The blowflies so few and far between

  their threat must have seemed thinly veiled

  until it was far too late to separate kimono and patten

  from the black-green purge fluid.

  Too late for the Tokugawa clan to send a galloper

  over the bony ridge

  in her skull with his accurate-to-within-a-thousandth-of-an-inch calipers

  to report back to Edo on this security breach.

  VIII

  It was far too late to determine if these humours had been dry or wet

  now I’d forsworn laying myself open

  to the globefish. Too late to dissuade

  the girl in the purikura from risking the type of panty-hose heel known as ‘Cuban’

  never mind warning her off a Hi-Chew flavoured with durian.

  Far too late to inquire

  why a poem had taken a wrong turn

  on a corduroy road across a quaking mire

  to have its own little meltdown.

  I’d read somewhere that however advanced the art

  of forensics has become, including the potassium analysis of the gelatin

  in the vitreous humour, to fix the time of death is hard

  if not hopeless. Waxahachie. Some propose the name means ‘fat wildcat’

  while others persevere

  in thinking ‘buffalo creek’ or even ‘buffalo chips’ just as good.

  All I had to go on was the pouring of sulphur

  over a clog print in snow, which seemed to highlight

  that the poem began to self-digest

  about the time I recognized that the sanitaria in which the lepers had been held

  were nowhere in that great world of which this one is a sulphur cast.

  IX

  All I had to go on was the hunch that pupae would assail

  the girl from the sticker-photo booth at the same rate as a poem cadaver.

  Who knew
that lepis meant ‘fish scale’?

  All I had to go on was that a globefish would have gained its livor

  once it, too, was kitted out for the slab.

  Whereas I’d read somewhere that the mean

  annual temperature on Mount Fuji’s slopes

  was –7 degrees centigrade, it was nonetheless too late to determine

  if the humours of Hakone had been wet or dry.

  Sanguine or phlegmatic. Choleric or melancholic.

  In a drawer at the mortuary

  a quail egg

  from her railway-station bento

  suggests the rate of cooling will vary by only a few degrees.

  I’d read somewhere that the need for ID at the checkpoint

  in Hakone started the sticker-photo craze

  as far back as the Edo period. Along with the Japanese straight perm.

  Who knew that geisha is often confused with geiko?

  All I had to go on was a single maggot puparium

  to help me substantiate the date of a corduroy road over a quag.

  Loss of Separation: A Companion

  In the province of Gallia Narbonensis and the region of Nemausus there is a marsh called Latera where dolphins and men co-operate to catch fish.

  – PLINY THE ELDER, Natural History

  I used to think that Mutual Aid

  had given rise to the first kibbutzim.

  Now an economic blockade

  seems merely a victimless crime.

  I used to think I’d got it right

  when I notched up a ’59 Plymouth fin.

  Now I fight only to fight

  shy of the assembly line

  where I’m waiting for some lover

  to kick me out of bed

  for having acted on a whim

  after I’ve completely lost the thread

  and find myself asking a river

  to run that by me one more time.

  from ONE THOUSAND THINGS WORTH KNOWING

  Cuthbert and the Otters

  In memory of Seamus Heaney

  Notwithstanding the fact that one of them has gnawed a strip of flesh

  from the shoulder of the salmon,

  relieving it of a little darne,

  the fish these six otters would fain

  carry over the sandstone limen

  and into Cuthbert’s cell, a fish garlanded with bay leaves

  and laid out on a linden flitch

  like a hauberked warrior laid out on his shield,

  may yet be thought of as whole.

  An entire fish for an abbot’s supper.

 

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