Collected Poems in English and French (3 page)

without the grand old British Museum

Thales and the Aretino

on the bosom of the Regent's Park the phlox

crackles under the thunder

scarlet beauty in our world dead fish adrift

all things full of gods

pressed down and bleeding

a weaver-bird is tangerine the harpy is past caring

the condor likewise in his mangy boa

they stare out across monkey-hill the elephants

Ireland

the light creeps down their old home canyon

sucks me aloof to that old reliable

the burning btm of George the drill

ah across the way a adder

broaches her rat

white as snow

in her dazzling oven strom of peristalsis

limae labor

ah father father that art in heaven

I find me taking the Crystal Palace

for the Blessed Isles from Primrose Hill

alas I must be that kind of person

hence in Ken Wood who shall find me

my breath held in the midst of thickets

none but the most quarried lovers

I surprise me moved by the many a funnel hinged

for the obeisance to Tower Bridge

the viper's curtsy to and from the City

till in the dusk a lighter

blind with pride

tosses aside the scarf of the bascules

then in the grey hold of the ambulance

throbbing on the brink ebb of sighs

then I hug me below among the canaille

until a guttersnipe blast his cernèd eyes

demanding 'ave I done with the Mirror

I stump off in a fearful rage under Married Men's Quarters

Bloody Tower

and afar off at all speed screw me up Wren's giant bully

and curse the day caged panting on the platform

under the flaring urn

I was not born Defoe

but in Ken Wood

who shall find me

my brother the fly

the common housefly

sidling out of darkness into light

fastens on his place in the sun

whets his six legs

revels in his planes his poisers

it is the autumn of his life

he could not serve typhoid and mammon

this clonic earth

see-saw she is blurred in sleep

she is fat half dead the rest is free-wheeling

part the black shag the pelt

is ashen woad

snarl and howl in the wood wake all the birds

hound the harlots out of the ferns

this damfool twilight threshing in the brake

bleating to be bloodied

this crapulent hush

tear its heart out

in her dreams she trembles again

way back in the dark old days panting

in the claws of the Pins in the stress of her hour

the bag writhes she thinks she is dying

the light fails it is time to lie down

Clew Bay vat of xanthic flowers

Croagh Patrick waned Hindu to spite a pilgrim

she is ready she has lain down above all the islands of glory

straining now this Sabbath evening of garlands

with a yo-heave-ho of able-bodied swans

out from the doomed land their reefs of tresses

in a hag she drops her young

the whales in Blacksod Bay are dancing

the asphodels come running the flags after

she thinks she is dying she is ashamed

she took me up on to a watershed

whence like the rubrics of a childhood

behold Meath shining through a chink in the hills

posses of larches there is no going back on

a rout of tracks and streams fleeing to the sea

kindergartens of steeples and then the harbour

like a woman making to cover her breasts

and left me

with whatever trust of panic we went out

with so much shall we return

there shall be no loss of panic between a man and his dog

bitch though he be

sodden packet of Churchman

muzzling the cairn

it is worse than dream

the light randy slut can't be easy

this clonic earth

all these phantoms shuddering out of focus

it is useless to close the eyes

all the chords of the earth broken like a woman pianist's

the toads abroad again on their rounds

sidling up to their snares

the fairy-tales of Meath ended

so say your prayers now and go to bed

your prayers before the lamps start to sing behind the larches

here at these knees of stone

then to bye-bye on the bones

fix this pothook of beauty on this palette

you never know it might be final

or leave her she is paradise and then

plush hymens on your eyeballs

or on Butt Bridge blush for shame

the mixed declension of those mammae

cock up thy moon thine and thine only

up up up to the star of evening

swoon upon the arch-gasometer

on Misery Hill brand-new carnation

swoon upon the little purple

house of prayer

something heart of Mary

the Bull and Pool Beg that will never meet

not in this world

whereas dart away through the cavorting scapes

bucket o'er Victoria Bridge that's the idea

slow down slink down the Ringsend Road

Irishtown Sandymount puzzle find the Hell Fire

the Merrion Flats scored with a thrillion sigmas

Jesus Christ Son of God Saviour His Finger

girls taken strippin that's the idea

on the Bootersgrad breakwind and water

the tide making the dun gulls in a panic

the sands quicken in your hot heart

hide yourself not in the Rock keep on the move

keep on the move

thrice he came

the undertaker's man

impassible behind his scutal bowler

to measure

is he not paid to measure

this incorruptible in the vestibule

this malebranca knee-deep in the lilies

Malacoda knee-deep in the lilies

Malacoda for all the expert awe

that felts his perineum mutes his signal

sighing up through the heavy air

must it be it must be it must be

find the weeds engage them in the garden

hear she may see she need not

to coffin

with assistant ungulata

find the weeds engage their attention

hear she must see she need not

to cover

to be sure cover cover all over

your targe allow me hold your sulphur

divine dogday glass set fair

stay Scarmilion stay stay

lay this Huysum on the box

mind the imago it is he

hear she must see she must

all aboard all souls

half-mast aye aye

nay

redeem the surrogate goodbyes

the sheet astream in your hand

who have no more for the land

and the glass unmisted above your eyes

asylum under my tread all this day

their muffled revels as the flesh falls

breaking without fear or favour wind

the gantelope of sense and nonsense run

taken by the maggots for what they are

why not merely the despaired of

occasion of

wordshed

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leaden

they will always start dragging too soon

the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want

bringing up the bones the old loves

sockets filled once with eyes like yours

all always is it better too soon than never

the black want splashing their faces

saying again nine days never floated the loved

nor nine months

nor nine lives

saying again

if you do not teach me I shall not learn

saying again there is a last

even of last times

last times of begging

last times of loving

of knowing not knowing pretending

a last even of last times of saying

if you do not love me I shall not be loved

if I do not love you I shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart again

love love love thud of the old plunger

pestling the unalterable

whey of words

terrified again

of not loving

of loving and not you

of being loved and not by you

of knowing not knowing pretending

pretending

I and all the others that will love you

if they love you

unless they love you

offer it up plank it down

Golgotha was only the potegg

cancer angina it is all one to us

cough up your T.B. don't be stingy

no trifle is too trifling not even a thrombus

anything venereal is especially welcome

that old toga in the mothballs

don't be sentimental you won't be wanting it again

send it along we'll put it in the pot with the rest

with your love requited and unrequited

the things taken too late the things taken too soon

the spirit aching bullock's scrotum

you won't cure it you won't endure it

it is you it equals you any fool has to pity you

so parcel up the whole issue and send it along

the whole misery diagnosed undiagnosed misdiagnosed

get your friends to do the same we'll make use of it

we'll make sense of it we'll put it in the pot with the rest

it all boils down to blood of lamb

Vire will wind in other shadows

unborn through the bright ways tremble

and the old mind ghost-forsaken

sink into its havoc

head fast

in out as dead

till rending

long still

faint stir

unseal the eye

till still again

seal again

head sphere

ashen smooth

one eye

no hint when to

then glare

cyclop no

one side

eerily

on face

of out spread

vast in

the highmost

snow white

sheeting all

asylum head

sole blot

faster than where

in hellice eyes

stream till

frozen to

jaws rail

gnaw gnash

teeth with stork

clack chatter

come through

no sense and gone

while eye

shocked wide

with white

still to bare

stir dread

nay to nought

sudden in

ashen smooth

aghast

glittering rent

till sudden

smooth again

stir so past

never been

at ray

in latibule

long dark

stir of dread

till breach

long sealed

dark again

still again

so ere

long still

long nought

rent so

so stir

long past

head fast

in out as dead

on all that strand

at end of day

steps sole sound

long sole sound

until unbidden stay

then no sound

on all that strand

long no sound

until unbidden go

steps sole sound

long sole sound

on all that strand

at end of day

thither

a far cry

for one

so little

fair daffodils

march then

then there

then there

then thence

daffodils

again

march then

again

a far cry

again

for one

so little

elles viennent

autres et pareilles

avec chacune c'est autre et c'est pareil

avec chacune l'absence d'amour est autre

avec chacune l'absence d'amour est pareille

they come

different and the same

with each it is different and the same

with each the absence of love is different

with each the absence of love is the same

à elle l'acte calme

les pores savants le sexe bon enfant

l'attente pas trop lente les regrets pas trop longs l'absence

au service de la présence

les quelques haillons d'azur dans la tête les points enfin

morts du coeur

toute la tardive grâce d'une pluie cessant

au tomber d'une nuit

d'août

à elle vide

lui pur

d'amour

être là sans mâchoires sans dents

où s'en va le plaisir de perdre

avec celui à peine inférieur

de gagner

et Roscelin et on attend

adverbe oh petit cadeau

vide vide sinon des loques de chanson

mon père m'a donné un mari

ou en faisant la fleur

qu'elle mouille

tant qu'elle voudra jusqu'à l'élégie

des sabots ferrés encore loin des Halles

ou l'eau de la canaille pestant dans les tuyaux

ou plus rien

qu'elle mouille puisque c'est ainsi

parfasse tout le superflu

et vienne

à la bouche idiote à la main formicante

au bloc cave à l'oeil qui écoute

de lointains coups de ciseaux argentins