Friday, May 5, 2017
Considering the Snail, Thom Gunn
The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail's fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.
..good night..
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell
what power is at work, drenched there
with purpose, knowing nothing.
What is a snail's fury? All
I think is that if later
I parted the blades above
the tunnel and saw the thin
trail of broken white across
litter, I would never have
imagined the slow passion
to that deliberate progress.
..good night..
Louis Simpson, He put his arm around her
(see:"How to live on Long Island", "The best hour of the Night")
He went back upstairs.
Susan said, "Did you put out the garbage?"
But her eyes were closed.
She was sleeping, yet could speak in her sleep,
ask a question, even answer one.
"yes", he said, and climbed into bed.
She turned around to face him,
with her eyes still closed.
He thought, perhaps she's an oracle,
speaking from the Collective Unconscious.
He said to her, "Do you agree with Darwin
that people and monkeys have a common ancestor?
Or should we stick to the Bible?"
She said, "Did you take out the garbage?"
"Yes", he said, for the second time.
Then thought about it. Her answer
had something in it of the sublime.
Like a koan...the kind of irrelevance
a Zen-master says to the disciple
who is asking riddles of the universe.
He put his arm around her,
and she continued to breathe evenly
from the depths of sleep.
He went back upstairs.
Susan said, "Did you put out the garbage?"
But her eyes were closed.
She was sleeping, yet could speak in her sleep,
ask a question, even answer one.
"yes", he said, and climbed into bed.
She turned around to face him,
with her eyes still closed.
He thought, perhaps she's an oracle,
speaking from the Collective Unconscious.
He said to her, "Do you agree with Darwin
that people and monkeys have a common ancestor?
Or should we stick to the Bible?"
She said, "Did you take out the garbage?"
"Yes", he said, for the second time.
Then thought about it. Her answer
had something in it of the sublime.
Like a koan...the kind of irrelevance
a Zen-master says to the disciple
who is asking riddles of the universe.
He put his arm around her,
and she continued to breathe evenly
from the depths of sleep.
After Midnight, Louis Simpson
The dark streets are deserted,
With only a drugstore glowing
Softly, like a sleeping body;
With one white, naked bulb
In the back, that shines
On suicides and abortions.
Who lives in these dark houses?
I am suddenly aware
I might live here myself.
The garage man returns
And puts the change in my hand,
Counting the singles carefully.
American Poetry, Louis Simpson
Whatever it is, it must have
A stomach that can digest
Rubber, coal, uranium, moons, poems.
Like the shark, it contains a shoe.
It must swim for miles through the desert
Uttering cries that are almost human.
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