The Complete Poems of A R Ammons, Volume 1 Page 22

  (just now, the

  4010thorns

  are black

  against the wall)

  maybe it’s gonna clear off:

  not very cold:

  4015there comes the exactness

  again:

  pulsing:

  gaits:

  short/quick-stepping Kate:

  4020Silver,

  long & languorous:

  what

  to do in case of fall-out:

  put it

  4025back in & use

  shorter strokes:

  brushstrokes:

  short, straight, narrow

  strokes

  4030that blend & move

  into vague scenes:

  the broad, long

  swash of color:

  the paroxysmic:

  4035the full, slow

  inner & outer reach:

  wavelengths:

  distance, elapse of time

  from crest to crest, from

  4040point of highest

  stirred feeling

  to highest point: the

  silky, fiery

  considerations

  4045down the hills

  and shallows and up

  the rises

  of repeating motions:

  rhythm, pace:

  4050Silver, majestical,

  slow but sure: the

  turn-plow

  turned earth

  to overturning rivers:

  4055smooth, rockless,

  alluvial country,

  free of stumps:

  stump-holes, tho—still

  in the pasture: the

  4060hollow shells—inside

  the crater lake

  of ancient wood-ambered

  rain, wriggling larvae,

  hanging head-down from

  4065the surface,

  breathing through

  their tails, & tiny green

  frogs

  hidden in crevices

  4070over canyons of wood:

  the thick, grazed

  carpet grass

  smooth in patches

  around inedible

  4075wire-grass clumps:

  worlds:

  the only longleaf pine

  left

  stood tall & spare-boughed

  4080as land-corner:

  marker between

  neighbor & us:

  mystical tree:

  half ours,

  4085half his, neither

  able to take his half

  without loss of all

  & in addition

  transfigured by

  4090boundary-meaning,

  entered in the record

  (history in the

  courthouse)

  a sign:

  4095spared: let us take on

  meanings to

  keep us:

  standing alone in the

  edge of the pasture,

  4100near the road

  (the road when it came

  through

  cut off a sliver of the

  neighbor’s land

  4105so it was worthless to

  him—our pasture

  fence included his

  sliver &

  the tree stood in from the

  4110road—is the way it really

  was: and the road &

  tree became symbols

  of two kinds of truth,

  competing:

  4115the tree, ideals of

  truth:

  the road, the use of

  this world

  & compromise)

  4120high sparse

  branches

  sang

  thin songs:

  (one of my uncles, I

  4125heard said, used to

  go into the woods to pray,

  always to a

  particular tree:

  a praying tree—

  4130must have had

  meanings

  in it)

  if you don’t think

  mechanisms work

  4135in the green

  becoming

  of

  the

  lichen, I don’t care

  4140what you think: it’s

  one-sided,

  unaware that

  crystals, even,

  exist

  4145as fluids:

  thallophyte & green

  alga

  living together,

  with

  4150necessary exchanges:

  abstraction may

  sight far

  over the facts

  & fall

  4155short or broken

  but meantime it shows

  saliences of going:

  its spare thin

  beauty

  4160is relating:

  reason & feeling

  living together, with

  necessary exchanges:

  guidelines—but readiness

  4165to adjust

  to changed

  environments:

  what is it that persists

  through generations,

  4170throwing its pattern

  ahead?

  an earth-product,

  I don’t represent

  all my wills:

  4175others, not mine, are

  in me:

  still, when the

  feelings are working

  right, knowledge

  4180is redundant: one

  doesn’t analyze

  the good

  condition: one

  accepts,

  4185without consciously

  accepting, and enjoys:

  let’s

  reach out

  from this

  4190loneliness with

  as much love as

  we can:

  grief is on us:

  we’re not

  4195just right:

  we are hurled

  away by

  exaggeration:

  line us up!

  4200that’s our directed,

  undirected, or misdirected

  wish:

  give us an earth

  between these frozen poles:

  4205gates:

  entrances: doorways:

  wombs:

  outward gates: exits:

  broken walls,

  4210bridged rivers & fallen

  mountains:

  give us the being

  whole

  wherever we are:

  4215intellect has

  cast

  temporary resolutions:

  pity—it’s not

  all intellect’s fault—

  4220that now we see

  breakage

  (fragmentation & high

  entropy)

  but

  4225high entropy

  is not loss of pattern:

  we can’t see:

  the man who feels good

  has a shortage of

  4230problems:

  he’s cabbage-cool

  & -sweet:

  we must—since

  there’s only one universe—

  4235bear the tearing up

  before we can enjoy the

  putting together,

  the adjusted putting

  together

  4240that gives us

  fuller touch

  of what we know:

  tho the crust

  floats with under- &

  4245over-seas, it’s hard

  as rock

  & anchorages

  in motion are

  solider than rock:

  4250rock wears:

  motion is the full

  openness of possibility:

  our existence is

  evidence

  4255of more

  than we can imagine: much

  we can’t see

  is working right:

  let’s
celebrate

  4260that part of our

  ignorance

  & keep on

  till we learn better how to

  praise:

  4265will you leave

  the Lord

  & sit down

  in a man-made misery?

  then

  4270you’ve postulated a lot

  for yourself

  & lost:

  that we’re going is

  reason to be going on:

  4275(the dance

  & warm red dry wine!)

  dance! you splendid

  creatures!

  your heel-strings

  4280sing like plucked

  instruments!

  your skirts whirl

  worlds

  with inner secrets!

  4285swing!

  your partner,

  promenade (and when

  you can

  get laid

  4290get laid)

  first to the right, then

  to the left, right, left

  (get lawfully

  laid)

  4295Muse, no mortal

  can have

  enough of you:

  he wants bigger &

  bigger draughts: he wants

  4300to get drunk on

  and in you:

  he wants to consume you:

  can you stand to be

  nibbled on, Parnassus, by

  4305a million nibblers?

  wonder there’s any

  chance I could

  chew off a big

  hunk of you?

  4310would you

  mind

  more than

  the

  tickle of

  4315tiny

  teeth?

  from the gouge I made in

  you

  would gush springs up,

  4320too, Pierian,

  bread washed down

  with wine:

  (better confine myself

  to steak)

  4325the immortal body

  replenishes itself,

  the constant banquet:

  so they did eat & drink:

  and you keep giving me

  4330juice,

  I may drive through

  all this

  raillery

  & come on

  4335the vine-water of truth,

  the slot

  of hazeless sight:

  and you give me the ole

  steam, baby,

  4340I may get all these

  gargoyles up,

  lined around the high

  edges,

  and then you may give

  4345me

  two or three columns

  & a plain wall:

  and I can keep bringing this

  stuff up,

  4350every fool thing

  shining in

  the light of its

  foolishness,

  I may get

  4355cleaned out

  good,

  worthy to taste your

  simple fare:

  oh wash all the crap out!

  4360I want to tremble with

  need

  when I reach for yr bread:

  let lust for yr wine

  parch my tongue

  4365so

  the bread sticks:

  I hate hungering

  & thirsting,

  yet will I

  4370hunger & thirst

  and go to the foot

  of the table,

  pinch crumbs

  off the floor—if you

  4375will grant me

  wide arm-reach

  & lifted

  voice

  so the table shakes

  4380& the people enter

  the maze of yr presence!

  come on, now, f’god’s

  sake, what’re you saving

  it for?

  4385the light

  reclines:

  of a brightness not yet

  gold: white gold:

  Bach runs in his high

  4390rant

  from the record

  player:

  we’re going

  out

  4395to dinner:

  30 DEC:

  today is 19 &

  sunny:

  the still-warm tide

  comes in

  4400&

  the shallowing marshes

  freeze & keep it:

  increments of

  continental shelf:

  4405ocean loss:

  we may sink:

  the gulls fly inland

  looking:

  the dump swarms with

  4410gulls & smoke:

  yesterday I gave

  to the memory of

  William Carlos Williams

  (reception in NY

  4415for Mrs. Williams)

  sat in the back of

  the bus up

  & the motor ground my

  head to dust (gray,

  4420graphitic)

  & a man fell

  in a fit

  in the bus station: three

  men held him till

  4425he jerked still:

  a crowd circled &

  watched:

  (we’re monkeys, scratching

  our heads

  4430& asses &

  dumb with joy & tragedy)

  so many people

  with bodies only:

  so many bldgs with

  4435mere addresses:

  buses, subways, cabs,

  somebody everywhere:

  fragments: faces never to

  be seen again: isolations:

  4440poets, peaks of need,

  loose cold

  majesties,

  sizing heights, cut off

  from the common

  4445stabilizing ground of their

  admirers:

  peaks relate across

  thin

  &

  4450icy air:

  how good to be back

  here

  with ruin’s blue-bottle fly,

  whole fields wasted with

  4455grass,

  an empty cherry tree

  & one jay:

  sunlight on the wall

  with precise

  4460black thorn:

  5 pm:

  some rosy drifts

  still in

  the west:

  4465are the days

  gathering moments at

  the edges?

  every moment

  of light

  4470nudges

  my cold

  rhododendron &

  every inch

  of this rising tape

  4475ruffles my blood

  for the gathered product,

  the heaping hamper,

  accomplished florescence:

  empty places

  4480make room

  for

  silence to

  gather:

  high-falutin

  4485language does not

  rest on the

  cold water

  all night

  by

  4490the luminous

  birches:

  is too vivid

  for the eyes

  of pigeons,

  4495heads tucked

  under wings in

  first

  patches of sunlight:

  is too noisy to

  4500endure

  the sleep of buds,

  the holding in

  of the huckleberry

  blossom:

  4505too voracious

  to spin,

  rest

  & change:

  is too clever

  4510for the frank

  honey-drop

  of the lily-pistil:

  I hear the

  porkchops frying!

  4515ah,

  there’s the sweet,
burnt

  smell!

  sounds in the kitchen,

  pots lifted

  4520with empty

  hushing ring,

  the plunger of the icebox

  door

  snapping loose: the

  4525sizzling roil of

  porkchops turned:

  protest, response:

  flashes of aluminum

  light

  4530as the pots work, the

  glint of tines

  as the table

  dresses: the

  holy

  4535slow

  lifting & turning

  in the spinach pot:

  rituals, hungers,

  motions over

  4540fire,

  the stance &

  tending:

  I hear & visualize

  & the drop

  4545under the tongue

  bulbs clear

  & pressing:

  what’s that sound?

  mashed potatoes being

  4550whipped?

  there, a chop turned:

  cups winding up

  still in saucers:

  the grasping snip of

  4555celery stalks:

  the high whir of

  the garbage disposer,

  chewed clear:

  a rough, troubled sound

  4560now

  of another charge, maybe

  the grapefruit rinds:

  “You

  can

  4565come

  sit

  down

  now

  if

  4570you

  want

  to.”

  6:08 pm:

  no vegetables at all:

  4575(the grapefruit I had

  earlier—is that

  a vegetable?) we had

  porkchops & rice &

  a salad (pecans, raisins,

  4580apples, celery, lettuce):

  so wonderful to be just

  the outside edge of

  painfully full:

  then coffee!

  4585I wish my words could

  be quiet