The Complete Poems of A R Ammons, Volume 1 Page 19

  sir, metered out?

  the poet implores you to

  get the hell off his back:

  2410he will have

  room

  and a universe

  to cry all day

  the trampling of a weed:

  2415go you the hell all on

  back home: or stand off:

  the music descends: look

  up: there, now: there:

  thank you, gentlemen:

  2420and goodnight: it’s past

  twelve and a

  cold, freezing, windy

  night:

  %

  15 DEC:

  2425my poem went for a ride

  today: I

  backgutted it all

  the way out

  of the typewriter,

  2430rewinding the roll:

  stuck it in a paper

  bag, then in the

  glove compartment:

  we all went to York, Pa.

  2435to visit relatives:

  I was reluctant to give

  the day to myself & not

  to the poem: but

  the thing I couldn’t

  2440do was separate us:

  what if the house caught

  fire while I was gone?

  unh, unh: took it with me:

  but mightn’t you have had

  2445a car accident & ruined it?

  mebbe but bebbe I’d

  have ruined myself, too,

  past caring about

  poems,

  2450mebbe:

  took it with me: & have

  returned (10 pm) &

  reinserted & rewound:

  I’m beat: drove

  2455there & back & drove

  a lot while there,

  looking the city over,

  the place my nephew

  goes to school & where his

  2460daddy works & shopping

  centers, bowling alleys

  & the ritzy section,

  mansions way up

  on the highest ridge—

  2465overlooking:

  the Top:

  but it’s late:

  excuse me, I’m tired: &

  the cold drops—

  2470they say to 5 or 10 above

  tonight:

  16 DEC:

  first I heard

  on the radio this morning

  it was

  247519 degrees:

  but it’s bright sunny

  and

  believe it or not

  there’re a couple of

  2480flies

  out on the porch, still

  okay, doing fine

  on “areas of warmth”:

  but doing I don’t

  2485know what at night:

  a one-legged starling

  was hopping around on the

  porch when I just drove

  up: and a catbird was

  2490sitting

  in the green-withered

  rhododendron bush,

  warming:

  the joy of the crest,

  2495riding & writing

  in the going making

  single stream: but I

  can’t always live

  there:

  2500obstructions:

  frustrations:

  frazzling reality,

  many-fingered &

  dividing: what

  2505self-acceptance, strength

  of self, is

  needed to meet it:

  the gain’s in doing

  little things: but

  2510wherever you turn, someone

  beat you there, is

  in your way

  obstructing you: some

  idiot pulls out

  2515in front of you,

  without notice or

  hesitation: someone pops

  on his brakes: another

  drags along:

  2520somebody behind you blasts

  his horn:

  here, the obstructions

  continue: the flow

  lost, the crest gone: the

  2525self not

  pulling all together:

  if things were easy

  they’d be valueless:

  wd they?

  2530this is easiest when it

  rides highest

  & when it’s difficult

  nothing can be done:

  this fantasy: with

  2535faith, unity, I

  may turn it into a

  pleasing reality:

  wdn’t that be a blast:

  wdn’t that break up

  2540pragmatism:

  (there you go

  picturing yrself

  worldwide again: easy,

  boy: you

  2545dooky like

  everybody else)

  it’s a loss of love:

  I love all those

  people (provided

  2550they get out of my way)

  hostility, thrust, that

  drives one to this

  thrashing of keys:

  violence of vowels:

  2555prisons of hostility,

  gleaming as Manhattan

  plate-glass towers:

  solitude—so as not to

  strike!

  2560death’s

  the maximum-security

  prison: take a lot of

  practice

  to spring

  2565that one: too secure:

  turn our faces into

  cold wind &

  risk’s hard fact:

  I feel like running:

  2570& wd:

  except there’s no

  place to

  run to: prisons to let

  ourselves into

  2575and out of:

  what kind of mess

  am I in today?

  Muse, if you

  want anything out

  2580of me, you’ll have

  to do a little

  fixing-up:

  this tape is too damn long:

  I’ll tell you that:

  2585terrible task:

  then you go off & whore

  around:

  10 pm: we’ve just

  finished addressing the

  2590Xmas cards (policy:

  send one to people

  who sent one last year—

  with some eliminations

  (somebody has to make the

  2595first move:) some additions:)

  stars, angels, snow,

  donkeys, trees, bells, arches,

  windows, children: not

  a bad context, though

  2600reality

  has a

  way

  of

  wandering around the edges

  2605of

  it: I’d take a liking to

  it if it wasn’t for

  still having the stamps

  to lick:

  2610next yr I intend to send

  a card to everybody

  I know (I think)—

  that’s not a bad context &

  it says a lot about peace:

  2615just went to Tony’s to

  get a pack of cigs: it’s

  colder than you

  can imagine: must be

  around 8: yipe!

  17 DEC:

  2620Sisyphus

  struggling

  with his

  immortal

  rock: some say this

  2625is all man’s work,

  crumbling castles, decay-

  ing systems—absurdity:

  but Sisyphus

  knew each upward strain

  2630& groan

  soaked into the hard

  potential of the stone,

  that the sweat burned in

  deep:

  2635mountaintop, he released

  weeks of energy

  and saw—each time as

  miracle—the />
  gravity-bound, difficult

  2640rock

  leap & lollop

  like a deer,

  feather-light, bird

  awing: & he let out a

  2645cry of joy that

  rang through the

  valley

  mixing with stone-thunder:

  the people—who’d

  2650forgotten Sisyphus & his

  breadless labor—screaming

  jumped out of bed

  & ran

  out into the night:

  2655Sisyphus took

  light, jerky

  steps downward

  and resolving came,

  luminous with explanation,

  2660among the people:

  they cheered &

  thanked the gods

  for the return of reason

  & Sisyphus, the

  2665groans all vented from

  his rock

  turned to the empty, easy

  thing & rolled it like

  a playball over the even

  2670ground

  up to the bottom of the

  rise:

  the people, smiling, went

  to bed & through

  2675the black morning hours

  the rock,

  breaking branches, began

  to take on

  again its difficult majesty:

  2680¢¢

  got

  to leave Sissy Fuss

  & go

  pick out the Christmas

  2685tree:

  keep it cold in

  garage: so it don’t

  turn stiff & sheddy:

  cut’em around October:

  2690why

  they cut’em so soon?

  transportation:

  it’s merchandising:

  dealerships to work out:

  2695farmers to contact: red

  tape: whatd’ya

  think?

  they can just appear up

  down here

  2700fresh

  two days before Christmas?

  sheez!

  some kindova nut:

  grows on a tree,

  2705a tree is part of

  Nature,

  Nature is beautiful &

  thank you for the

  compliment:

  2710why don’t we go cut

  our own?

  cut our own!

  where?

  but we don’t own that land:

  2715whatd’ya mean they don’t

  care?

  I know they’re beautiful:

  grow right up in the

  fallow land,

  2720taper up nice, standing

  out half-deep in

  Indian grass, right

  out in the middle of

  the field:

  2725when I was a boy:

  or a bit more:

  used to go get the

  Christmas tree: lived

  way out in the country

  2730down in Carolina

  in a time

  & place

  that seem so long ago,

  everything different

  2735now & sort of loused up:

  an only boy & I would get

  the axe &

  follow the paths over the

  fields & back of the

  2740fields come into

  hill-woods (hickory,

  lush-leaved tree,

  covering the ground each

  year with

  2745thick-shelled nuts)

  & then into the swamp woods:

  for

  in the South

  cedar grows deep

  2750in the damp swampwoods

  and then it’s sparse, so

  sparse, where I come from:

  & walk & walk, roaming and

  nearly lost:

  2755there’s one! already

  topped: and found

  another, shaggy, topped

  years ago: & finally

  finally finding one

  2760bushy, full, &

  pointed:

  climbing and with that

  awkward, ungrounded swing,

  hacking away at the

  2765trunk:

  dragging it home, the limbs

  obliging, flowing with

  the motion:

  we had no electricity but

  2770we had pinecones &

  colored paper &

  some tinsel: it

  was beautiful enough:

  it was very lovely:

  2775& it’s lost:

  though there’s no

  returning (and

  shd be little desire

  to return) still we shd

  2780keep the threads looped

  tightly with past years,

  the fabric

  taut

  & continuous, past growing

  2785into present so present

  can point to future:

  where am I now?

  in a house with

  no acres around it—don’t

  2790even own an axe—

  plenty of electricity but

  no hickory nuts,

  no rummaging the swamp

  for the scented green,

  2795the green-green, moist,

  growing right on the tree:

  now, a tree from

  somewhere—maybe Vermont—

  got by handing over

  2800two or three green

  pcs of paper:

  $$$$$$$$$$$$$

  do you hear me, Sisyphus,

  durn you? do you hear me

  2805groan:

  like:

  wow:

  2:29 pm: (still sunny)

  I better get out of

  2810here & go

  get that tree:

  the good ones are

  gonna be gone:

  &

  2815Snow

  The little tree

  on the hill

  could surely be

  bright & still

  2820except the wind

  round the hill

  has a mind

  that isn’t still

  &

  2825I decided not to get the

  tree:

  instead, I lay down on the

  couch

  & nearly fell asleep

  2830& then sat up

  & then

  the little tree

  came to me:

  4:30 pm: the sun’s sunk:

  2835we approach the shallows

  of the year: short

  days with the sun

  gone south:

  the light will

  2840lengthen, break through

  plate-glass ice,

  stir roots & bees:

  in a maze prison, you’re

  free: every wall

  2845opens:

  you move around with

  trial:

  you know there’s a way

  out:

  2850the mind turns & fails:

  and turns & fails: loss

  of bearings & origins:

  the maze shrinks into the

  head, paralyzing: unwind

  2855it, un-

  wind it!

  speaking of memries,

  I member

  this little spring

  2860that came mouthing out

  of sand at the foot

  of the pasture:

  I dammed up a good-sized

  pond around it,

  2865black mud walls

  maybe 6" high:

  held the flow,

  gave it structure:

  still the little mouth

  2870kept talking

  in the clear pond: clear!

  you could read the grain

  in the bottom mud,

  kind of fluffy:

  2875frogs laid eggs in it:

  messy eggs

  with little black eye
s:

  beautiful & sticky:

  they say the night will be

  2880cold

  with increasing cloudiness:

  probably: snow tomorrow:

  flurries:

  18 DEC:

  today

  2885broke as if under water:

  horizons & dome diffused

  with completely

  increased cloudiness:

  a set of four thumb-size

  2890birds

  flicker in the sumac

  grove:

  the sun’s a silver bead

  behind the clouds:

  2895flurries expected:

  Christmas trees come

  stout, stubby, tall, lean,

  bunchy, lopsided, scrawny—

  besides the kinds—cedar,

  2900pine, fir:

  my wife & I diverge

  at scrawny-bunchy: she

  likes bunchy ones (even a

  little stubby): I like

  2905scrawny, open trees:

  like to get inside the

  tree

  and hang it full of

  ornaments:

  2910I

  don’t

  like

  those bunchy ones that

  thrust you out, accept only

  2915peripheral trim:

  chacun à chacun, tho: that

  is, the devil with it:

  husband & wife hold

  each other off

  2920by digging

  chasms of difference:

  then they have a hell of a

  time bridging them: it’s

  important that a male be

  2925different from a female—

  the greater the difference

  the higher the charge—

  but if the

  difference gets too wide,

  2930the two halves

  drift off into alienations:

  ever noticed how

  dark it is

  inside those bunchy trees?

  2935they hover-in the

  dark, withholding, secret,

  mysterious:

  what? have a system of

  darkness

  2940standing in the living

  room, recalcitrant,