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These empty words are so remote. They are stories someone wants To believe at the end of the century. Everyone gathers their sea of telluric Pain to greet the beginning of the new world. Cars stop and watch the deck chairs limp across the street to await The coming of the new year. It is the end of summer and autumn and Winters and springs, and panzer infatuation. After four hundred eighty-one years, I cannot pull out the Spanish arrow In my eye. Suddenly everything I knew was inhuman: The oceans, the tadpoles in their new cars. The clams became Cheerleaders. The palm trees, strippers, and everyone forgot, Deer are the shapes of God. His official language became Latin, when he ceased to be a Jew, Biting his nails and collecting cans like a cheap minister with sunny gold teeth. The tender years that once wore oysters would never speak to Him again. The female spider became a lesbian, devouring our new long legs, That would never again climb the toy steps our fathers left us. Although Our legs are hairy and the lilies of a theater, the gentle lips of Our pyramids rest on our souls like a lover’s fingers. How many aspirins will we take to reach the surface of truth? My existence is for sale. The dawn is learning English. The waves of the sea are unionizing. The stones that were once our troubled hearts are eating chocolate. I come to sell you fish, the bread in my blood and my existence.

let elizur rejoice with the partridge Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers. For I am not without authority in my jeopardy, which I derive inevitably from the glory of the name of the Lord. Let Shedeur rejoice with Pyrausta, who dwelleth in a medium of fire, which God hath adapted for him. For I bless God whose name is Jealous—and there is a zeal to deliver us from everlasting burnings. Let Shelumiel rejoice with Olor, who is of a goodly savour, and the very look of him harmonizes the mind. For my existimation is good even amongst the slanderers and my memory shall arise for a sweet savour unto the Lord. Let Jael rejoice with the Plover, who whistles for his live, and foils the marksmen and their guns. For I bless the prince of peace and pray that all the guns may be nail’d up, save such [as] are for the rejoicing days. Let Raguel rejoice with the Cock of Portugal—God send good Angels to the allies of England! For I have abstained from the blood of the grape and that even at the Lord’s table. Let Hobab rejoice with Necydalus, who is the Greek of a Grub. For I have glorified God in greek and latin , the consecrated languages spoken by the Lord on earth. Let Zurishaddai with the Polish Cock rejoice—The Lord restore peace to Europe. For I meditate the peace of Europe amongst family bickerings and domestic jars. Let Zuar rejoice with the Guinea Hen—The Lord add to his mercies in the west ! For the host is in the west —the Lord make us thankful unto salvation. Let Chesed rejoice with Strepsiceros, whose weapons are the ornaments of his peace. For I preach the very gospel of christ without comment and with this weapon shall I slay envy. Let Hagar rejoice with Gnesion, who is the right sort of eagle, and towers the highest. For I bless God in the rising generation, which is on my side. Let Libni rejoice with the Redshank, who migrates not but is translated to the upper regions. For I have translated in the charity, which makes things better and I shall be translated myself at the last. Let Nahshon rejoice with the Seabreese, the Lord give the sailors of his Spirit. For he that walked upon the sea, hath prepared the floods with the Gospel of peace. Let Helon rejoice with the Woodpecker—the Lord encourage the propagation of trees! For the merciful man is merciful to his beast, and to the trees that give them shelter. Let Amos rejoice with the Coote—prepare to meet thy God, O Israel. For he hath turned the shadow of death into the morning, the Lord is his name. Let Ephah rejoice with Buprestis, the Lord endue us with temperance and humanity, till every cow can have her mate! For I am come home again, but there is nobody to kill the calf or to pay the musick. Let Sarah rejoice with the Redwing, whose harvest is in the frost and snow. For the hour of my felicity, like the womb of Sarah, shall come at the latter end. Let Rebekah rejoice with Iynx, who holds his head on one side to deceive the adversary. For I shou’d have avail’d myself of waggery, had not malice been multitudinous. Let Shuah rejoice with Boa, which is the vocal serpent. For there are still serpents that can speak—God bless my head, my heart and my heel. Let Ehud rejoice with Onocrotalus, whose braying is for the glory of God, because he makes the best musick in his power. For I bless God that I am of the same seed as Ehud, Mutius Scœ vola, and Colonel Draper. Let Shamgar rejoice with Otis, who looks about him for the glory of God, and sees the horizon compleat at once. For the word of God is a sword on my side—no matter what other weapon a stick or a straw. Let Bohan rejoice with the Scythian Stag—he is beef and breeches against want and nakedness. For I have adventured myself in the name of the Lord, and he hath mark’d me for his own. Let Achsah rejoice with the Pigeon who is an antidote to malignity and will carry a letter. For I bless God for the Postmaster general and all conveyancers of letters under his care, especially Allen and Shelvock. Let Tohu rejoice with the Grouse—the Lord further the cultivating of heaths and the peopling of deserts. For my grounds in New Canaan shall infinitely compensate for the flats and maynes of Staindrop Moor. Let Hillel rejoice with Ammodytes, whose colour is deceitful and he plots against the pilgrim’s feet. For the praise of God can give to a mute fish the notes of a nightingale. Let Eli rejoice with Leucon—he is an honest fellow, which is a rarity. For I have seen the White Raven and Thomas Hall of Willingham and am myself a greater curiosity than both. Let Jemuel rejoice with Charadrius, who is from the height and the sight of him is good for the jaundice. For I look up to heaven which is my prospect to escape envy by surmounting it. Let Pharaoh rejoice with Anataria, whom God permits to prey upon the ducks to check their increase. For if Pharaoh had known Joseph, he would have blessed God and me for the illumination of the people. Let Lotan rejoice with Sauterelle. Blessed be the name of the Lord from the Lote-tree to the Palm. For I pray God to bless improvements in gardening until London be a city of palm-trees. Let Dishon rejoice with the Landrail, God give his grace to the society for preserving the game. For I pray to give his grace to the poor of England, that Charity be not offended and that benevolence may increase. Let Hushim rejoice with the King’s Fisher, who is of royal beauty, tho’ plebeian size. For in my nature I quested for beauty, but God, God hath sent me to sea for pearls. Let Machir rejoice with Convolvulus, from him to the ring of Saturn, which is the girth of Job; to the signet of God from Job and his daughters blessed be jesus . For there is a blessing from the stone of jesus which is founded upon hell to the precious jewell on the right hand of God. Let Atad bless with Eleos, the nightly Memorialist ελεησον κϮ..ριε. For the nightly Visitor is at the window of the impenitent, while I sing a psalm of my own composing. Let Jamim rejoice with the Bittern blessed be the name of Jesus for Denver Sluice, Ruston, and the draining of the fens. For there is a note added to the scale, which the Lord hath made fuller, stronger and more glorious. Let Ohad rejoice with Byturos who eateth the vine and is a minister of temperance. For I offer my goat as he browses the vine, bless the Lord from chambering and drunkeness. Let Zohar rejoice with Cychramus who cometh with the quails on a particular affair. For there is a traveling for the glory of God without going to Italy or France. Let Serah, the daughter of Asher, rejoice with Ceyx, who maketh his cabin in the Halcyon’s hold. For I bless the children of Asher for the evil I did them and the good I might have received at their hands. Let Magdiel rejoice with Ascarides, which is the life of the bowels—the worm hath a part in our frame. For I rejoice like a worm in the rain in him that cherishes and from him that tramples. Let Becher rejoice with Oscen who terrifies the wicked, as trumpet and alarm the coward. For I am ready for the trumpet and alarm to fight, to die and to rise again. Let Shaul rejoice with Circos, who hath clumsy legs, but he can wheel it the better with his wings. For the banish’d of the Lord shall come about again, for so he hath prepared for them. Let Hamul rejoice with the Crystal, who is pure and translucent. For sincerity is a jewel which is pure and transparent, eternal and inestimable. Let Ziphion rejoice with the Tit-Lark who is a groundling, but he raises the spirits. For my hands and my feet are perfect as the sublimity of Naphtali and the felicity of Asher. Let Mibzar rejoice with the Cadess, as is their number, so are their names, blessed be the Lord Jesus for them all. For the names and number of animals are as the names and number of the stars. Let Jubal rejoice with Cœcilia, the woman and the slow-worm praise the name of the Lord. For I pray the Lord Jesus to translate my magnificat into verse and represent it. Let Arodi rejoice with the Royston Crow, there is a society of them at Trumpington and Cambridge. For I bless the Lord Jesus from the bottom of Royston Cave to the top of King’s Chapel. Let Areli rejoice with the Criel, who is a dwarf that towereth above others. For I am a little fellow, which is intitled to the great mess by the benevolence of God my father. Let Phuvah rejoice with Platycerotes, whose weapons of defence keep them innocent. For I this day made over my inheritance to my mother in consideration of her infirmities. Let Shimron rejoice with the Kite, who is of more value than many sparrows. For I this day made over my inheritance to my mother in consideration of her age. Let Sered rejoice with the Wittal—a silly bird is wise unto his own preservation. For I this day made over my inheritance to my mother in consideration of her poverty. Let Elon rejoice with Attelabus, who is the Locust without wings. For I bless the thirteenth of August, in which I had the grace to obey the voice of Christ in my conscience. Let Jahleel rejoice with the Woodcock, who liveth upon suction and is pure from his diet. For I bless the thirteenth of August, in which I was willing to run all hazards for the sake of the name of the Lord. Let Shuni rejoice with the Gull, who is happy in not being good for food. For I bless the thirteenth of August, in which I was willing to be called a fool for the sake of Christ. Let Ezbon rejoice with Musimon, who is from the ram and she-goat. For I lent my flocks and my herds and my lands at once unto the Lord. Let Barkos rejoice with the Black Eagle, which is the least of his species and the best-natured. For nature is more various than observation tho’ observers be innumerable. Let Bedan rejoice with Ossifrage—the bird of prey and the man of prayer. For Agricola is Γηωοργος. Let Naomi rejoice with Pseudosphece who is between a wasp and a hornet. For I pray God to bless polly in the blessing of Naomi and assign her to the house of david . Let Ruth rejoice with the Tumbler—it is a pleasant thing to feed him and be thankful. For I am in charity with the French who are my foes and Moabites because of the Moabitish woman. Let Ram rejoice with the Fieldfare, who is a good gift from God in the season of scarcity. For my Angel is always ready at a pinch to help me out and to keep me up. Let Manoah rejoice with Cerastes, who is a Dragon with horns. For christopher must slay the Dragon with a pheon’s head. Let Talmai rejoice with Alcedo, who makes a cradle for its young, which is rock’d by the winds. For they have seperated me and my bosom, whereas the right comes by setting us together. Let Bukki rejoice with the Buzzard, who is clever, with the reputation of a silly fellow. For Silly fellow! Silly fellow! is against me and belongeth neither to me nor my family. Let Michal rejoice with Leucocruta who is a mixture of beauty and magnanimity. For he that scorneth the scorner hath condescended to my low estate. Let Abiah rejoice with Morphnus who is a bird of passage to the Heavens. For Abiah is the father of Joab and Joab of all Romans and English Men. Let Hur rejoice with the Water-wag-tail, who is a neighbour, and loves to be looked at. For they pass me by in their tour, and the good Samaritan is not yet come. Let Dodo rejoice with the purple Worm, who is cloathed sumptuously, tho he fares meanly. For I bless God in behalf of trinity college in cambridge and the society of purples in london . Let Ahio rejoice with the Merlin who is a cousin german of the hawk. For I have a nephew christopher to whom I implore the grace of God. Let Joram rejoice with the Water Rail, who takes his delight in the river. For I pray God bless the cam—Mmr higgs and mr and mrs washbourne as the drops of the dew. Let Chileab rejoice with Ophion who is clean made, less than an hart, and a Sardinian. For I pray God bless the king of Sardinia and make him an instrument of his peace. Let Shephatiah rejoice with the little Owl, which is the wingged Cat. For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless Almighty God. Let Ithream rejoice with the great Owl, who understandeth that which he professes. For I pray God for the professors of the University of Cambridge to attend and to amend. Let Abigail rejoice with Lethophagus—God be gracious to the widows indeed. For the Fatherless Children and widows are never deserted of the Lord.

Christopher Smart, 1722-1771 Blackula Poland China, 1971-1975 (memorandus) For I will consider my black sow Blackula. For she is the servant of the god of the feed bucket and serveth him. For she worships the god in him and the secret of his pail in her way. For this is done by screams of incantation at the appointed hour and lusty bites of daily communion. For she stands with forelegs upon the top rail of the wooden fence in supplication. For she grunts her thanks while she eats. For she stands for the red boar with closed eyes at the appointed hour. For having done she lies in the mud to consider herself. For this she performs in ten degrees. For first she rolls in her wallow to cover her body. For secondly she lies still to feel the wet. For thirdly she stretches her length and casts her belly to the sun. For fourthly she exhales God’s air in huge sighs. For fifthly she rises and examines her feed trough that replenishment might miraculously appear. For sixthly she scratches her side against the fence. For seventhly she scratches her jowl with delicate pastern swipe. For eighthly she smells the breeze to ascertain the red boar’s presence. For ninthly she returns to her mud and plows large holes in the earth. For tenthly she lies again in the wallow to cool her frame. For having considered her world she will sleep and dream dreams of herself and her god and the red boar. For like Eve for softness she and sweet attractive Grace was formed. For the red boar lusteth mightily and foameth at the mouth for her. For he might escape and enter her pen. For if he does this in a nonappointed hour she will scream loudly and discourage his kisses. For her belly is full and needeth no more. For in one month she will bring forth life in abundance. For in her last litter she farrowed eight piglets of the red boar. For three were black and five were red. For she raised them all and laid on none. For one in eight is normally crushed by the sow. For she is exceedingly good in all that she does. For she is surely of the tribe of Elephant and forgetteth not. For she weighs near six hundred pounds. For she has ears of tremendous size. For she is heavy. For a large sow is a term of the Titan Elephant. For she has the appetite of a bird and would eat the day long which in debt her master suppresses. For he would not have her too fat or his checkbook hollow. For he keeps her well-fed and she breaks no fence. For she grunts in pleasure from the mud when he scratches her ears. For she is a tool of God to temper his mind. For when she eats her corn she turns and shits in her trough. For her master is provoked but hereby learns patience. For she is an instrument for him to learn bankruptcy upon. For he lost but four dollars each on the last litter of pigs. For this is admirable in the world of the bank. For every man is incomplete without one serious debt or loss. For she provides this with her good faith. For every farm is a skeleton without a mortgage. For the Lord admonished black sows when he said lay up no stores of treasure on earth. For she prohibits this daily. For she is a true child of God and creature of the universe. For she is called Blackula which is a derivative of the Devil, but false. For she does worship her God and Savior. For she was given her name for breaking a fence and eating Jan’s garden beets. For when Jan came with a stick and wrath she lifted her head and smiled. For her teeth and mouth were stained with red beet pulp. For Jan dropped the stick and laughed. For she looked like a six-hundred-pound vampire. For she was called Blackula. For we feed her red beets daily to watch her smile. For she is humble when well-fed. For she makes her point well when she is hungry. For there is nothing swifter than a sow breaking fence when she desires. For there is nothing more beautiful than a sow in full run when being chased through a garden. For there is no sound more pure than her scream when she is hit with a stick. For she is meek in all aspects when satisfied. For when John Sims saw her lying in mud he proclaimed her majesty. For he whistled and called her a pretty sonofabitch. For he offered to trade his beat-up truck for her straight across. For she has divine spirit and is manifest as a complete pig. For she is tame and can be taught. For she can run and walk and sleep and drink and eat. For she can scream at the red boar. For she allows her ears and belly to be scratched. For she allows small children to ride her back. For she sleeps in mounds of straw at night. For she produces litters of healthy black and red pigs. For she can root the earth. For she can carry sticks in her mouth. For she will grunt when she is addressed. For she can jump not far but hard. For dried earth cracks in the places where she walks. For she is hated by the breeders of cattle and sheep. For the former loses more money than I do on his stock. For the latter fears her mind. For she has no wool and will not blindly follow his steps. For he carries no bucket of feed. For she litters twice per year. For he litters but once. For her belly is firm and can take much abuse. For from this proceeds her worth. For I perceive God’s mystery by stroking her teats. For I felt tiny lumps of flesh within and knew they were alive. For the life is the physical substance which God sends from Heaven to sustain the appetites of men. For God has blessed her womb and the red boar’s seed. For they multiply in ecstasy at the appointed time. For God has blessed her in many ways. For God has given her the red beets to eat. For God has given the water for her to drink. For God has allowed the water to run to mud in a place for her to lay. For she cannot fly to the mountain streams, though she walks well upon the earth. For she walks the earth heavy upon tiny feet. For she treads all the rows of the summer garden. For she can jump the fence. For she can push it down. For she can eat.

Over the growing shadows fell the dead weight of  light. With a long bark mules metered the distance and turned back. Dust rose like columns of unpaid debt. Spit dried before it could reach the ground. Then the thin-barked orange trees disowned their thick-skinned fruit. Then mosquitoes spat out bad blood into the gutters and were gone. Fish was opened like a two-page book, its skeleton, caught aflame like an asp, inscribed with fire along the bone lines, then slapped on a stone face of a plate next to a Coca-Cola bottle as cold as hell. In the market fruit prices jumped up so high — the seller women turned into hawks. With a gibbous peacock brushing by their feet, in the woods where each leaf  hides a face, and each trunk a spine, and each tree a crime, where owls and angels, a man and three women were contesting an apple. The winner’s body itself was an apple with skin chewed off. Inside her breasts milk circled like a growling animal locked behind two heavy nipples. It was both day and night. Her moon-white hand on the sun-gold fruit. In her hair more stones than in a graveyard. So I followed the woman as she ate hoping if not for a bite then at least a spit in my direction. But she left nothing of that apple. Not even the memory of eating it ever.

I.e., the kind of   verse That doesn’t try to force People to their knees (Seeing as it sees To people’s being thrown By forces of   their own).

Pitch here the tent, while the old horse grazes: By the old hedge-side we'll halt a stage. It's nigh my last above the daisies: My next leaf'll be man's blank page. Yes, my old girl! and it's no use crying: Juggler, constable, king, must bow. One that outjuggles all's been spying Long to have me, and he has me now. We've travelled times to this old common: Often we've hung our pots in the gorse. We've had a stirring life, old woman! You, and I, and the old grey horse. Races, and fairs, and royal occasions, Found us coming to their call: Now they'll miss us at our stations: There's a Juggler outjuggles all! Up goes the lark, as if all were jolly! Over the duck-pond the willow shakes. Easy to think that grieving's folly, When the hand's firm as driven stakes! Ay, when we're strong, and braced, and manful, Life's a sweet fiddle: but we're a batch Born to become the Great Juggler's han'ful: Balls he shies up, and is safe to catch. Here's where the lads of the village cricket: I was a lad not wide from here: Couldn't I whip off the bale from the wicket? Like an old world those days appear! Donkey, sheep, geese, and thatch'd ale-house—I know them! They are old friends of my halts, and seem, Somehow, as if kind thanks I owe them: Juggling don't hinder the heart's esteem. Juggling's no sin, for we must have victual: Nature allows us to bait for the fool. Holding one's own makes us juggle no little; But, to increase it, hard juggling's the rule. You that are sneering at my profession, Haven't you juggled a vast amount? There's the Prime Minister, in one Session, Juggles more games than my sins'll count. I've murdered insects with mock thunder: Conscience, for that, in men don't quail. I've made bread from the bump of wonder: That's my business, and there's my tale. Fashion and rank all praised the professor: Ay! and I've had my smile from the Queen: Bravo, Jerry! she meant: God bless her! Ain't this a sermon on that scene? I've studied men from my topsy-turvy Close, and, I reckon, rather true. Some are fine fellows: some, right scurvy: Most, a dash between the two. But it's a woman, old girl, that makes me Think more kindly of the race: And it's a woman, old girl, that shakes me When the Great Juggler I must face. We two were married, due and legal: Honest we've lived since we've been one. Lord! I could then jump like an eagle: You danced bright as a bit o' the sun. Birds in a May-bush we were! right merry! All night we kiss'd, we juggled all day. Joy was the heart of Juggling Jerry! Now from his old girl he's juggled away. It's past parsons to console us: No, nor no doctor fetch for me: I can die without my bolus; Two of a trade, lass, never agree! Parson and Doctor!—don't they love rarely Fighting the devil in other men's fields! Stand up yourself and match him fairly: Then see how the rascal yields! I, lass, have lived no gipsy, flaunting Finery while his poor helpmate grubs: Coin I've stored, and you won't be wanting: You shan't beg from the troughs and tubs. Nobly you've stuck to me, though in his kitchen Many a Marquis would hail you Cook! Palaces you could have ruled and grown rich in, But your old Jerry you never forsook. Hand up the chirper! ripe ale winks in it; Let's have comfort and be at peace. Once a stout draught made me light as a linnet. Cheer up! the Lord must have his lease. May be—for none see in that black hollow— It's just a place where we're held in pawn, And, when the Great Juggler makes as to swallow, It's just the sword-trick—I ain't quite gone! Yonder came smells of the gorse, so nutty, Gold-like and warm: it's the prime of May. Better than mortar, brick and putty Is God's house on a blowing day. Lean me more up the mound; now I feel it: All the old heath-smells! Ain't it strange? There's the world laughing, as if to conceal it, But He's by us, juggling the change. I mind it well, by the sea-beach lying, Once—it's long gone—when two gulls we beheld, Which, as the moon got up, were flying Down a big wave that sparked and swell'd. Crack, went a gun: one fell: the second Wheeled round him twice, and was off for new luck: There in the dark her white wing beckon'd:— Drop me a kiss—I'm the bird dead-struck!

(excerpt) I rode one evening with Count Maddalo Upon the bank of land which breaks the flow Of Adria towards Venice: a bare strand Of hillocks, heap'd from ever-shifting sand, Matted with thistles and amphibious weeds, Such as from earth's embrace the salt ooze breeds, Is this; an uninhabited sea-side, Which the lone fisher, when his nets are dried, Abandons; and no other object breaks The waste, but one dwarf tree and some few stakes Broken and unrepair'd, and the tide makes A narrow space of level sand thereon, Where 'twas our wont to ride while day went down. This ride was my delight. I love all waste And solitary places; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be: And such was this wide ocean, and this shore More barren than its billows; and yet more Than all, with a remember'd friend I love To ride as then I rode; for the winds drove The living spray along the sunny air Into our faces; the blue heavens were bare, Stripp'd to their depths by the awakening north; And, from the waves, sound like delight broke forth Harmonizing with solitude, and sent Into our hearts aëreal merriment. So, as we rode, we talk'd; and the swift thought, Winging itself with laughter, linger'd not, But flew from brain to brain—such glee was ours, Charg'd with light memories of remember'd hours, None slow enough for sadness: till we came Homeward, which always makes the spirit tame. This day had been cheerful but cold, and now The sun was sinking, and the wind also. Our talk grew somewhat serious, as may be Talk interrupted with such raillery As mocks itself, because it cannot scorn The thoughts it would extinguish: 'twas forlorn, Yet pleasing, such as once, so poets tell, The devils held within the dales of Hell Concerning God, freewill and destiny: Of all that earth has been or yet may be, All that vain men imagine or believe, Or hope can paint or suffering may achieve, We descanted, and I (for ever still Is it not wise to make the best of ill?) Argu'd against despondency, but pride Made my companion take the darker side. The sense that he was greater than his kind Had struck, methinks, his eagle spirit blind By gazing on its own exceeding light. Meanwhile the sun paus'd ere it should alight, Over the horizon of the mountains—Oh, How beautiful is sunset, when the glow Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee, Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy! Thy mountains, seas, and vineyards, and the towers Of cities they encircle! It was ours To stand on thee, beholding it: and then, Just where we had dismounted, the Count's men Were waiting for us with the gondola. As those who pause on some delightful way Though bent on pleasant pilgrimage, we stood Looking upon the evening, and the flood Which lay between the city and the shore, Pav'd with the image of the sky.... The hoar And aëry Alps towards the North appear'd Through mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark rear'd Between the East and West; and half the sky Was roof'd with clouds of rich emblazonry Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew Down the steep West into a wondrous hue Brighter than burning gold, even to the rent Where the swift sun yet paus'd in his descent Among the many-folded hills: they were Those famous Euganean hills, which bear, As seen from Lido thro' the harbour piles, The likeness of a clump of peakèd isles— And then—as if the Earth and Sea had been Dissolv'd into one lake of fire, were seen Those mountains towering as from waves of flame Around the vaporous sun, from which there came The inmost purple spirit of light, and made Their very peaks transparent. "Ere it fade," Said my companion, "I will show you soon A better station"—so, o'er the lagune We glided; and from that funereal bark I lean'd, and saw the city, and could mark How from their many isles, in evening's gleam, Its temples and its palaces did seem Like fabrics of enchantment pil'd to Heaven. I was about to speak, when—"We are even Now at the point I meant," said Maddalo, And bade the gondolieri cease to row. "Look, Julian, on the west, and listen well If you hear not a deep and heavy bell." I look'd, and saw between us and the sun A building on an island; such a one As age to age might add, for uses vile, A windowless, deform'd and dreary pile; And on the top an open tower, where hung A bell, which in the radiance sway'd and swung; We could just hear its hoarse and iron tongue: The broad sun sunk behind it, and it toll'd In strong and black relief. "What we behold Shall be the madhouse and its belfry tower," Said Maddalo, "and ever at this hour Those who may cross the water, hear that bell Which calls the maniacs, each one from his cell, To vespers." "As much skill as need to pray In thanks or hope for their dark lot have they To their stern Maker," I replied. "O ho! You talk as in years past," said Maddalo. " 'Tis strange men change not. You were ever still Among Christ's flock a perilous infidel, A wolf for the meek lambs—if you can't swim Beware of Providence." I look'd on him, But the gay smile had faded in his eye. "And such," he cried, "is our mortality, And this must be the emblem and the sign Of what should be eternal and divine! And like that black and dreary bell, the soul, Hung in a heaven-illumin'd tower, must toll Our thoughts and our desires to meet below Round the rent heart and pray—as madmen do For what? they know not—till the night of death, As sunset that strange vision, severeth Our memory from itself, and us from all We sought and yet were baffled." I recall The sense of what he said, although I mar The force of his expressions. The broad star Of day meanwhile had sunk behind the hill, And the black bell became invisible, And the red tower look'd gray, and all between The churches, ships and palaces were seen Huddled in gloom;—into the purple sea The orange hues of heaven sunk silently. We hardly spoke, and soon the gondola Convey'd me to my lodgings by the way. The following morn was rainy, cold and dim: Ere Maddalo arose, I call'd on him, And whilst I waited with his child I play'd; A lovelier toy sweet Nature never made, A serious, subtle, wild, yet gentle being, Graceful without design and unforeseeing, With eyes—Oh speak not of her eyes!—which seem Twin mirrors of Italian Heaven, yet gleam With such deep meaning, as we never see But in the human countenance: with me She was a special favourite: I had nurs'd Her fine and feeble limbs when she came first To this bleak world; and she yet seem'd to know On second sight her ancient playfellow, Less chang'd than she was by six months or so; For after her first shyness was worn out We sate there, rolling billiard balls about, When the Count enter'd. Salutations past— "The word you spoke last night might well have cast A darkness on my spirit—if man be The passive thing you say, I should not see Much harm in the religions and old saws (Though I may never own such leaden laws) Which break a teachless nature to the yoke: Mine is another faith"—thus much I spoke And noting he replied not, added: "See This lovely child, blithe, innocent and free; She spends a happy time with little care, While we to such sick thoughts subjected are As came on you last night. It is our will That thus enchains us to permitted ill. We might be otherwise. We might be all We dream of happy, high, majestical. Where is the love, beauty, and truth we seek But in our mind? and if we were not weak Should we be less in deed than in desire?" "Ay, if we were not weak—and we aspire How vainly to be strong!" said Maddalo: "You talk Utopia." "It remains to know," I then rejoin'd, "and those who try may find How strong the chains are which our spirit bind; Brittle perchance as straw.... We are assur'd Much may be conquer'd, much may be endur'd, Of what degrades and crushes us. We know That we have power over ourselves to do And suffer—what, we know not till we try; But something nobler than to live and die: So taught those kings of old philosophy Who reign'd, before Religion made men blind; And those who suffer with their suffering kind Yet feel their faith, religion." "My dear friend," Said Maddalo, "my judgement will not bend To your opinion, though I think you might Make such a system refutation-tight As far as words go. I knew one like you Who to this city came some months ago, With whom I argu'd in this sort, and he Is now gone mad—and so he answer'd me— Poor fellow! but if you would like to go We'll visit him, and his wild talk will show How vain are such aspiring theories." "I hope to prove the induction otherwise, And that a want of that true theory, still, Which seeks a 'soul of goodness' in things ill Or in himself or others, has thus bow'd His being. There are some by nature proud, Who patient in all else demand but this— To love and be belov'd with gentleness; And being scorn'd, what wonder if they die Some living death? this is not destiny But man's own wilful ill." As thus I spoke Servants announc'd the gondola, and we Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought sea Sail'd to the island where the madhouse stands.

Come near, come round, My dear sisters My dear brothers. Come take a peek, and Have a glance Someone is claiming to be dead And she looks like Juliana! Here we are, straw on straw, clutching at each one in the dark, wondering if it’s true, and if it’s a fact which is the ugliest in this news. If what has been is what now is, Then darkness is here and may never leave. The pot is broken for the clan The house is shaken, its fires long dead. Hear the screaming tornado, The boastful roaring hurricane: at the workplace in the market, here by the hearth at home. Esi Boah Bediako Dwemoh Our beautiful singular Juliana It’s true we shall all die one day, Did you have to leave this soon? Dear All-consuming Mother Earth, Voracious, indiscriminate, Carnivorous cannibal, We wish this meat you would spit out, Offer us back our Juliana: Beautiful Winsome Joyous. Kind and thoughtful Mrs. Dwemoh Please listen, and listen good: If you dreamt You could skip town Sneak out of our lives And disappear, Happy you’d finished Your allotted tasks, Then Mighty Mama, think again. For us your task if not yet done. Trainer of trainers The teachers’ teacher We know why This noon in the tropics Schoolrooms are silent The children abandoned. The wisest counselor Accomplished crafter Sower of hope and joy and peace You cloaked us in love and habiliments. Good Mother Juliana Are you sure you want to leave? Come near, come round, My dear sisters My dear brothers. Come take a peek, and Have a glance Someone is claiming to be dead And she looks like Juliana!

Even here? In this snowbound barrack? Suddenly, the illicit sounds of Beethoven’s concerto erupt from Juliek’s smuggled violin, suffusing this doomsday shed teeming with the trampled and the barely alive, realm of frostbite and squalor, clawing panic and suffocation— Insane, God of Abraham, insanely beautiful: a boy insisting winter cannot reign forever, a boy conveying his brief, bounded life with a psalmist’s or a cantor’s arrow-sure ecstasy— One prison-striped friend endures to record the spellbinding strings, the woebegone— and the other, the impossible Polish fiddler, is motionless by morning, his renegade instrument mangled under the haggard weight of winter-killed, unraveling men. Music at the brink of the grave, eloquent in the pitch dark, tell-true, indelible, as never before, as never after— Abundance, emending beauty, linger in the listening, truth-carrying soul of Elie, soul become slalom swift, camp shrewd, uncrushable; abundance, be here, always here, in this not-yet-shattered violin.

Washington, D.C. At least it helps me to think about my son a Leo/born to us (Aries and Cancer) some sixteen years ago in St. John’s Hospital next to the Long Island Railroad tracks Atlantic Avenue/Brooklyn New York at dawn which facts do not really prepare you (do they) for him angry serious and running through the darkness with his own becoming light