The Complete Poems of A R Ammons, Volume 1 Page 20

  impenetrable? the devil

  take it!

  –or–

  2945I cd think of it as

  protected darkness,

  boundaried by

  ornament & light:

  maybe that’s a deeper

  2950response

  than my fully exhausted

  open tree:

  everybody to his own taste,

  said the old man as

  2955he kissed the cow: (and

  every little bit helps,

  said the old lady as

  she peed in the ocean)

  10:29 a.m: the bead’s gone:

  296011:40 a.m: fine, hurrying snow:

  12:48 pm: everything white:

  3:20 pm: still snowing: I

  went to the

  cleaner’s, egg-lady’s,

  2965& mailbox & just got in:

  trucks are whirling red

  gravel over the roads:

  the snow is holding,

  packing down: tires aren’t

  2970breaking through:

  the children, let out of

  school, run testing

  mounds that look all

  snow but are only surfaced,

  2975scraping up handfuls—

  not yet enough

  snow for

  huge

  crunchy handfuls—

  2980muffled, the highway’s

  stopped burning:

  9:41 pm: we’ve just come

  in from being out:

  it’s a wicked white

  2985icy night:

  cars slipping, wheels

  spinning: bushes

  sparkle in the headlights:

  imagine being out

  2990for a night

  restless & wakeful with

  cold, some child

  coughing—or crying

  with fever:

  2995who are we

  on this globe?

  how & at what cost

  have we survived?

  deer & birds:

  3000are they cold?

  maybe one way of

  coming home is

  into silence,

  restfulness from words,

  3005freedom from the mill

  that grinds

  reality into sound:

  why do I need to throw

  this structure

  3010against the flow

  which I cannot stop?

  is there something

  unyielding in me that

  can’t accept

  3015the passing away of days

  and birds

  flowers & leaves?

  it’s always never return

  for them:

  3020that way, day by day, for

  me & you:

  acquiescence, acceptance:

  the silent passage into

  the stream, going along,

  3025not holding back:

  I try to transfigure these

  days

  so you’ll want to keep

  them:

  3030come back to them: from

  where?

  from the running honey

  of reality & life?

  come back:

  3035I hold these days aloft,

  empty boxes

  you can exist in: but

  when you live in them

  you hurry out of your own

  3040life:

  if my meaning is

  to befriend you,

  must I turn you

  away?

  3045I stop to fasten, and

  currents

  swirl around, over

  me, wearing my

  structures away, teaching

  3050me not to grasp, not to

  try to keep:

  why does a man sit alone

  and question

  the answerless air where

  3055no blood stirs

  and no lips move?

  this love, fashioned

  into acts,

  might bring a lonely

  3060person

  purpose enough:

  what’s the nature

  of this carrying-on?

  generations to come: are

  3065they more precious,

  estimable, than these

  that are?

  can a lip quiver with

  more need

  3070then than now?

  I have a notion to be

  wordless, but

  active with immediate

  deed, open

  3075with the glance of my

  need, direct,

  humble in my going,

  glad

  as the thoughtless are:

  3080are we creators in fact

  or collectors of relics:

  do we make grow

  or cast into stone?

  19 DEC:

  this ole world could be

  3085one

  if it wusn’t

  for hate

  bustin it apart,

  keeps

  3090crackin it

  into little pieces:

  love, I mean, could

  rise up there love

  and make all the

  3095children dance

  shaking breasts & hips,

  pelvis

  shooting in & out

  and all kine of sanging

  3100going on:

  summer coming back just

  like it hadn’t been

  nowhere:

  and the bees

  3105bumbling

  in the hollyhocks:

  calves kicking up their

  heels &

  the spring roosters

  3110crashing into crows:

  in Praxagora’s perfect

  world, tho,

  the maiden could be had

  only after the hag

  3115was served:

  and what would we do with

  our hate?

  turning hate outward, we

  keep dense & pure

  3120our inward love:

  can we incorporate our

  enemies?

  can we maintain a high

  degree of difference

  3125within unity’s cluster?

  give room, latitude, widen

  the band

  of acceptance: we live

  in strictures of hate

  3130& suspicion, intolerance

  & doubt:

  absorb the margins:

  enlarge the range:

  give life room:

  20 DEC:

  3135today is cold: hit

  ten last night:

  and it not winter

  yet:

  the sun comes high

  3140into the room: strikes

  the inside wall

  three feet up from the

  floor:

  we’re going to Philly tdy:

  3145little more shopping:

  7:19 pm: oh it was a cold

  windy day, jaw-tight,

  ear-numb, nose-runny, cold

  windy day: the sun

  3150seemed to do no good

  (pigeons hovered

  in the morning sun

  along the steel trusses

  of overpasses) and the

  3155wind burst

  from intersections down

  the dark street-canyons:

  concrete, stone, steel,

  hard & cold:

  3160having shopped for hrs,

  I sat a

  few minutes

  in the waiting room (on

  the balcony) at

  3165Wanamaker’s:

  (or do they call that

  the gallery?):

  mostly old folks:

  some dozed: the eyes of

  3170some begged

  out of strictures:

  the circles of reach:

  in the womb, confinement:

  then, opening, the

&nb
sp; 3175bassinet: the cradle,

  playpen, the house, to

  school, enlarging always

  the widening circle: then

  away to college

  3180or military service, the

  circle so large

  now as to be

  congruent with earth—

  the total openness:

  3185then the gradual

  shrinking,

  stiffening, the star-

  brittle bones,

  eyes fading,

  3190arm-reach,

  and the last

  confinement:

  my, my: & nothing to be

  done:

  3195nothing to be done!

  is any time left?

  carpe diem, snatch, grab,

  hasten, do, jump, go:

  get the rose, da

  3200rose, da rosa baby: see

  that girl? when

  she turns her head

  & stands lost, her eyes

  blank with something forgot,

  3205universes

  crack up into little

  pieces & blow away

  and something quite

  silvery

  3210starts singing—right

  out in public

  and whoever said men can’t

  be blossoms because

  looking at her,

  3215near her,

  they

  bloom warm,

  they just rise up,

  something liberally

  3220extending itself,

  expanding

  and they turn to hot jelly

  & freezing little bits

  of ice

  3225and say “God” under their

  breaths

  and under the burden of

  something too much

  to have or lose:

  3230it’s go: go & green:

  the day we went to York

  I saw

  a black&white cow

  standing close to

  3235the sunny side of a barn:

  animals know a good many

  things: they’d

  take over if

  they had hands:

  21 DEC:

  3240the jay was out

  before sunrise

  wheeling & dealing

  & around noon

  a covey of quail

  3245enjoyed (apparently)

  the sunlit margin

  between the back lawn

  and the sumac grove:

  now, at 3:58 pm the

  3250sun is yellow,

  coming into its

  horizontal: about

  a half hour to go:

  they used to say

  3255“half hour sun”:

  I used to tell

  sun-time, right

  out of the burning clock:

  have a gold watch, now,

  3260that takes its heat

  from me: times change:

  our tree, which I just

  put up, was

  “Grown in Canada”

  3265&

  comes via

  Puyallup, Washington:

  the tag says:

  22 DEC:

  we lost our mule Kate in

  3270the fall

  to a chattel mortgage:

  men backed the truck

  up into a shallow

  ditch, dropped the ramp,

  3275& with twitch & whip

  loaded her on:

  it seemed, rather than

  justice,

  violation, breakage:

  3280tearing into

  a mule’s knowledge: &

  I stood by, a boy,

  violated & hard:

  Kate was small, willing

  3285at a touch of straw

  to run a wagon harder than

  you meant:

  she lunged in the

  high-boarded truck:

  3290her ears flicked, her

  eyes set back, blank &

  reasonless: she

  drowned from herself & us

  when the motor, roaring

  3295over all meaning,

  tore into gear:

  farm with no mule:

  the corn she made

  to lie all winter

  3300in a barn’s weevil-dust

  & rat droppings:

  in the spring, a tragic

  mule, bony,

  majestical

  3305came to us:

  never forget first time I

  saw her, coming down the

  Chadbourn road: my

  father went to town

  3310in the morning:

  late that afternoon,

  sitting on the washbench,

  waiting, I saw him

  coming, new wagon &

  3315new mule:

  she seemed hardly to be

  walking,

  but the legs went out &

  out in a reach

  3320that covered ground:

  I called her Silver—O

  loved beast,

  dead & gone,

  not to be lost from mind

  3325& song—

  because

  though huge & tired, she

  wd rise to her hindlegs

  at a touch of heels to

  3330her sides

  and run stiff & fast: like

  the Lone Ranger’s horse:

  & Silver was black:

  she possessed the

  3335mark of play,

  a liveliness silly,

  inappropriate & great:

  10:17 pm:

  we went to church at 4

  3340this afternoon:

  I held a lighted candle

  in my hand—as all the

  others did—and helped

  sing “Silent Night”: the

  3345church lights were doused:

  the preacher lit his

  candle & from his the

  deacons lit theirs &

  then the deacons went down

  3350the aisles & gave light to

  each row

  & the light poured

  down the rows &

  the singing started:

  3355though the forces

  have different names

  in different places &

  times, they are

  real forces which we

  3360don’t understand:

  I can either believe

  in them or doubt them &

  I believe:

  I believe that man is

  3365small

  & of short duration in the

  great, incomprehensible,

  & eternal: I believe

  it’s necessary to do

  3370good

  as we can best define it:

  I believe we must

  discover & accept the

  terms

  3375that best testify:

  I’m on the side of

  whatever the reasons are

  we are here:

  we do the best we can

  3380& it’s not enough:

  23 DEC:

  I was thinking when I woke

  up how much more I wanted

  ice cream than breakfast:

  the wake-up radio was

  3385saying

  the most dread terror is

  fire at sea

  (ship burning in the

  Atlantic with 800 aboard)

  3390and that forecast for

  today was snow, turning

  along the coast into

  sleet & rain:

  release us from mental

  3395prisons into the actual

  fact, the mere

  occurrence—the touched,

  tasted, heard, seen:

  in the simple event is

  3400the scope of life:

  let’s not make up

  categories to toss ourselves

  around with:

  look: it’
s snowing:

  3405without theory

  & beyond help:

  I accept:

  I can react with

  restlessness & quiet

  3410terror, or with

  fascination &

  delight: I choose the

  side of possibility:

  the snow’s angling

  3415into the sumac thicket:

  I see black &

  white, every twig

  highlighted: if I were

  looking with the snow,

  3420I’d see

  all white:

  4:48 pm: the vowels are

  lifting around here: breve

  a is becoming breve i:

  3425“I c’int stind it.”

  mansion is minson: palace,

  pillice:

  O Chaucer:

  Muse, you’re an

  3430eagle in the mind: when

  you fly away

  the air’s relaxed

  & empty:

  come back:

  3435maybe you’re sick of

  domestic details & long

  for some swept

  transfigurations,

  leading, transforming

  3440ideas, details

  lifted into a

  marshaled whirl:

  I had

  decided to

  3445give up all

  but details:

  decision

  is sandhouse without you:

  I acknowledge you, am

  3450miserable without you:

  come again

  and make your will in me:

  or are you here now

  whipping a tired spirit

  3455the best you can?

  I admit

  I’ve shot my load:

  but I can’t stop: give