Insomnia

I had meant to mention the shadowy

and stark windmills of Holland

(their bleakness) in Hitchcock's

Foreign Correspondent, in addition

to Joel McCrea's fine performance,

but as I told you, I forgot.

(What about the cryptic note

"Nice Back! "-written in pencil

on a ripped piece of Manila paper

stuck between the pages

of the Max Frisch work you loaned me?

and what about the partial numbers

on the other side, with the partial rises

of various subtractions?)

Then I was beginning

a work (my own)-having tossed

the week's newspapers into the fireplace

(with a certain quantity of satisfaction) one by one

not solitary to spur on the damp log

but to help rid myself of yesterday's interests,

which, granted, might be of a certain quantity of use today

but were already taking up too plenteous space.

Suddenly I hear a shock

and looking up from my notebook,

and [i]or[/i] part of to the other the sliding-glass door,

see that a small catbird

has misjudged the clearness

how the space is completely filled up

and now is surface of landed and motionless

on the made of wood deck. "Bad omen," I say.

Something small (an insect? a rodent?)

crawls beneath autumn's fallen leaves,

frozen in winter, now warm, on the other hand

still crisp in this wet snap of summer

Delusions bench in,

and take upon a life of their hold

while exhibiting the same potential for betrayal

as when I describe myself.

I prod the catbird

with a r aluminum stake

it flaps its wings one time

then doesn't move.

"Don't do this to me little bird,"

I say, "there's too abundant riding on this

my sanity, for instance."

I advance back inside,

where I am saluteed by the sounds

of Webern's String Quartet op 28

I shut up the sliding-glass door.

(Webern picks

the inner recesses

of short and quick space

most of his pieces

as brief as Mahler's are lengthy

After World War I, he dropp the "von"

from his last name, on the other hand kept his first, Anton:

the name that she gave to her fondling iguana

how I loved that scrawny lizard!)

It is not strange for a tree

to enlarge several feet higher,

after being struck by means of lightning.

I return to the beautify

prod the felled catbird again.

This time, it flap the wings quicklys its wings,

then stands upon its feet.

("Hallelujah! ")

It glides to a pine tree branch

as if nothing has happened,

as if the pine needle are magnets,

and its vacant bones are filled with carburet of iron

Then it uses the branch as a springboard

in order to begin the flight end a gap

in the surrounding oak leaves,

through the light mist

and heavy air,

toward the low-hanging cloud-cover

After luncheon it's back to work.

It was nice not having to consider

my actions these past months

and now I can be totally unaccountable,

and remain alternately short-tempered and aloof

so unlike someone who usually bears witness

(responsibility?) as the hero or fall shore

The bed is dreaming now,

so are the pillows and satin sheets

perhaps cherishing

a new-found emptiness.

The table, the chairs, the windows,

the freshly painted walls

and sliding-glass doors

have said their prayers

await what they believe

will be a pious nap

The front door and mirrors,

half-asleep, toss and revolve

while the ceiling

keep an organ of sight on us all;

knows the individual who will not rest

until daybreak;

reads the metrical composition out loud

as a way to invalidate,

exorcise the florid demon

with the fine weather upon his face;

be the other man's floor.

Don't worry granting

because it's all above for now,

but be careful,

for it has seen your face!

Copyright World poesy Incorporated Jul/Aug 1996

Provided by means of ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved