There is a giant painting at the Met in one of the hallways of 19th or 18th century painters, I think, a big gold thing of a Gypsy woman, again, I think. Who painted it? I can't remember. This reminded me of that.
I wrote what follows last night in the terrible throes of fatigue. It does not go with this photo, though. It must stand alone.
Awfully deadly dull buzzing throbbing tired. Stupid tired. Dangerously. . . . Three weeks to Christmas of a sudden. Remember those long weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas of past? They've been replaced by something else. So much work. . . . Cards must be made this weekend. Presents, too. So much to consider for so little, so few. In times like these, I need a Phillip Larkin.
And then. . . oh my heavens. . . I find this:
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
(from "Aubade")
I like aubades, of course more the traditional aubades of lovers parting at sunrise I suppose. I have a favorite. I will post it. Maybe I once did?
ReplyDeletebut of course I love Mr. Larkin very much too. "They fuck you up, your mum and dad ..."
I suppose because I live with one of the creatures you have been photographing -these color photos seem more "fashion model portfolio" than a reach for art. The black and white in the frothy dress -- yes. Don't get me wrong, adorable every inch. I wish her much modeling success.
But.
If I had a dick I'd be one I suppose. No worries, I'm used to being the odd man out. And really -- what the fuck do I know.
Aubade
Sun-baked all day, the south-facing cliffs,
breathe fire. The canyon air itself
can't sleep, sheets beneath them
gone incrementally to musk, the man
at last awakened alone, a train whistle
moaning upriver. Maybe the train's
clank and ratchet brought her out first,
or the hope some breeze happened,
not fire and water, the river's ice, a clammy flank of air.
Whatever it was, now the moonlight's made of her
a woman burnished by silver, leaned against the
porch rail
and looking at the water through the almost-dark.
It's me, he says from the doorway,
and she doesn't turn, but opens
her stance, so that he might kneel
and crane his neck, and lick
along and up the sweet, salt seam
to her spine, her shoulders, her neck,
his hands a fingery wind along her arms,
down the fine column of ribs to the palm-fitted
handles
her pelvic bones afford ---
Lord, he prays, If I have sworn
my loathing for the sun and cursed the salt
that blinds my eyes at work; if I have not slep
but have believed hell a canyon of basalt
a cold clear river taunts through; if I have turned,
scalded by this skin and the murk of damp bedding,
then wake me, wake me by whatever light is called for,
so I might find her, bathed
in a glow that is pure hell alone,
but tempered by her silver
to a dark the mouths remember, breathing
flesh into flames. Let us be candles
melted into a single wax. Let us be tangled at dawn
and lick awake the lids of each other's salty eyes
and rise --
to welcome the daily fire.
robert wrigley
Hey, thanks for this...
ReplyDeletedon't you just love the holidays...
ReplyDeleteR, Yes, they are more commercial. Mom isn't so much into me making the other. What do you mean "if" you had a dick : ) I like the idea of melting into a single wax, but I know what would happen later, too.
ReplyDeleteQ, I'm guessing you are not meaning me.
R, Used to. Perhaps I just need new ones.