| up north 6 part 7 - 1981 may-june | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
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River pour leaf smell - accelerations truncations oddity energy command decisions at points of traffic two improvising identities while handling the disintegrating energy of identities more powerful than his own
English the love word order that calls attention to itself I assume that if language changes aren't political they are for consciousness. partly by imitation but mainly by forming inductive rules surface conventions of orthography and punctuation to the underlying sounds and structures formulas for memory [money records April 22 - May 6] 26 To plant more and give up the social distance. People who are not artists, they just live. Think first. It will make me rougher and I want to be more, in city life I must be more as they are, conscious. In the bad days I accuse and defend. It does have to be pushed so thought goes nowhere else, but the ones who are good at it have no special presence. What it isn't - being excited in special senses. This is what. Working. Materialism without art. It becomes possible, not like at school. There, it did too - it becomes possible why. Nakedness dirt common forcing despair body moving differently. Following their line am I seeing with their - If it could be seen - keeping separate makes it possible, another kind of overground. Today I joined - wondered why is Henry so beautiful. Oh my not only him, it has begun quicker, they become beautiful riding in the truck and this morning the lap and how the arm went gradually, no, the arm went timidly slowly sweetly and consciously almost behind. This is the other life that will balance the witch life but. I was somewhere alone, I was alone listening, looking, and will be again, and what else. Attention - Jamila as she was there, envious of how she was odd and loved. 27 Resented from beginning. But the dream, a wide hall, was it the other one. Looking for 2nd floor again, up to a section I don't know, or how/whether it connects to where I want to go. In the elevator they're talking about a new baby. It is 3 or 4 in the morning, I'm in joy realizing I can walk around hearing and seeing at any time - is that what hospital is. Deep brick hall, some round arch, dollhouse city. 28 Happy. I'm sleeping, I've slept. Nuzzling with hair. "I really slept last night." "I didn't I had horrible dreams." We'd overslept and there was time to eat enough French toast and put coffee in the bottle. Pink in the sky through plastic. Wouldn't sit next in the back. The white range and the moon! Full moon flew up and then across and along in fine swooping curves. And retrograde down behind the trees. Entire range glazed white and Brian said the standing wisps are called banners. We threw stones into a washout. Leading Peter. Insisting he come down into the brush. Dropping bags and running downslope in white clothes already lighter, lying over a log legs hanging pumping water with mouth from surface above flowing green lines and amber over cedar water. Jean's smile brownie beret look of a dry fresh old man or woman, ancestor, blue gaze, red cheeks, small farmer, village, grandparent, sharp, careful, good, shrewd, a smile set and held. And how does Henry look: there's something delicate in his trunk, it's quite beautiful now, the whole body, slight in the belly, straight, nice indent at the knee, I stare, it is a lovely body, and the whole warmth of the eyes and face. Black on white skin turned red-brown, white eyes and it isn't an intelligent or penetrating look, it's a warm pour, it's goodness and the way it is in movement herding everyone, with strongest love for certain men, a good boy, but it's making him beautiful. I suspect the innocence but no one else is physically generous like that. What I don't know is what the unfocused busyness is covering / or why he's willing to be boyish rather than - experienced. Also - in ovulation - I think it was yesterday - I wanted him to look after me - cuddle - now I think it's over. What else - body you are my dear friend - dear back you are perfectly strong - the sun was food - thank you water - keep on till the last moment though slightly faint - jump in the back. "Did your magic dibble take over?" Brian leaning his head back into the wind sitting on the gas barrel. Bart's glow. Caludio when I said the sun feeds me said he thinks that too, standing in socks on one leg shaking head in the air current. The mountain wall north-south straight line to the west white, glaze shows it's been hot, "baked snow". Sauna. Nicely ask not to talk. Able to sit pouring. Skin forming water drops, they weigh heavier and roll. Pouring cold water first, it shocks but does it get warmer? The heat under padded straps. Flies around eyes and a puff under the left one. Knees feet elbow wrists bruised inside. When I close my eyes I see down a long red bore into the ground. What is it - realized it was the dibble hole enlarged hallucinated or is it a shock unfelt, gazing down into the damp red flesh greasy earth. 29 Overcast close small flies crawling over the eyes and cheeks eyelids, left side of face swollen [deerflies and no-seeums], distorted face, stiff thick earlobe, spacing badly planting desperately. Lying waiting to sleep feeling aches in - where? Which ache? Back hip knees etc. Startle thinking, is it body talking to me. Listening, that becoming sensation. I am the pains in their spatial relation. Eye plankton today, a seeming constellation and with it a texture stately swimming with the eye. And looking at the small flies at lunch thinking what are they what are they for. A disoriented fraction, being in their speed, crazy movement. Was blessing Frank and Tony. The men's unbearable conversations with each other I assist at. Lying in the sauna leg and snatch there to see, schamstelle. Look at what I have to work with - it contracts me, it contracts me repeatedly, shame and dislike. [Graham] Pale eyes massive gentle man-man put his big hand on my shoulder driving home. He looks. Perhaps he knows how. His silence. I'd be the prey I am easily now. - Luke booked on Air Canada 851 on 12th July Sunday arriving 4:12. Open check to Hagen's Travel £714. [calender 5 June - 12 July. money records] [Canada Council financial reckoning] 5 June Terrace. The plane - purple - mud-looking swelled face dirty - excited calling to be met at the airport - no answer - coming low over the coastal edge - circling over the truck gardens - phone my house - "I wish I could come to get you" - the trees and gardens of the rich city - turning to see down into Strathcona - excited - stepping down into my country - the mailbox, Henry's letter [to mail] - a woman and some children playing with a softball in that treed rectangle the tenements face onto - doors open, seeing up the stairs - the white corner building - Koo's and the alley - garden - the sweet williams of that one color - white roses out big - turn into the gate to see if the pink buds are opening - door's slightly ajar - drop the dusted thin clear plastic bag full of dirty clothes - fthlup from the 4th step carrying up suitcase - she's quiet - that means she's filming - there back in the corner - over my shoulder, "I knew you'd be doing that" and quick turn into the kitchen. R comes up well dressed. "That's what I'm interested in." They sit in the garden room when I have a bath, and invite me down. It's an enclosed complete room. The light shines directly from the west onto Rhoda and across us. Diana has put ducks where the goddess was. It's all close-mown and cleared in the quadrangle. There's no longer a gate. It's late afternoon. I carelessly tell and can't ask, in that usual way, unable, as if not interested because too little occurs - and am at last able to phone - "Are you busy later?" - "Are you in town?" in a voice with a dry fire blown horizontally through. She is she is glad and will soon come. I lie down and nearly sleep. Wake suddenly with an excitement thinking I hear her. The specific joy doesn't come until then, and soon after I hear steps on the sidewalk two stories down from the window above me. Will wait with my eyes closed. Ezra's lick and I don't know what this person looks like I'll trust I'll venture. Takes off shoes I can see under the eyelid but won't look at the face. Lies down touching a little. I don't know then. Later it's alright to talk, about her job. Laughing about the name. Then the nights I don't remember to distinguish. "I'll be your family, lend you money." "Will you ask what it's for?" "No of course not." Han Suyin. Saw him at a party, asked him to make a woman of her and he did. She soon after that went to China.
- [Edson, where I'm cooking rather than planting] Now here in the headlights: the orangelit soft gravelly roadside dirt and remarkable green wideopen dusk flush, the orange powder dust rising, poplar country of my home, Sunday night church summer evening west through the high windows, a pickup passes, dust round clouds float up. Where it was. Dear J, tonight I'm sleeping in Alberta. I was driving Brian's van on a gravel road with 4 tracks, it was home, the color of the ground in the headlights, green in the ditch, that green. I thank you most for having seen it, that you lived there with me - oh Valhalla house - the flush of dusk in the northwest, it's June the high season. Cold in the tent, candle on the suitcase. Were you like that on the last day because I had only liked you. Sue at supper next to me, from Nelson - her joy when she heard I was Judy's sister - "I loved Judy." June 7 A confused passage in the afternoon, maybe hunger. Now the camp's lively. The bread was good. The cook is distraite, others play. It'll be more expansive. June 9 Lying down at 9, visions and sensings, birds. Interrupted confident sleep. India. Turning from an error to see a wall inscribed tomb, the name I recognize in states, her, I'll read about her (the Kew book), 'Florence' or 'Suzanne' 'Farr' or, a wife, I was interested in. Bicycling from there a waiter maroon waistcoat running after me shouting. He easily is keeping up. I get up punch him hard in the jaw. He falls laughs hard leaves me go. Impersonating a woman, my habits do, does she not have those, and doesn't have to fight her habits. Shevek's beautiful worker people. The faces when they come in from planting are beautiful often with a white fragility. Their shining particular eyes. Blues. Claudio's gentle gaze. "I always enjoy it." [undated] Mud in the cookshack. They came in soaked at eight, were twelve hours in the mud, devoured what was on the table. I begin at 4. It's eleven. They were dancing and drinking Irish coffee, some of them. One of the pear pies, I put the initial J on it, not very lovingly, rather dryly. It's a lonely bleed. They look beautiful. Jean's wife Claudette hugged me against her babymilk long breast, the two wives on the bench each with two fingers holding up their sweater above the baby's head. It is useless to write you, it would be to you like your letter was, sad, there was nothing of me in it. Days are long, I have two hours without work, from 9-11. I sleep, lie down in visions and sounds. It is interesting me, I like to see them, but seldom seen. The candle was flickering, blue slashes above the page. Drove the 4x to the supermarket bought $400 food. Worst is the hour before breakfast, duty food and made in pressure. That dear as you can be there is still nobody who wants to know me. A frog, like the tape, it's Alberta. Voices from outside the tent, recognizable. Feeding 20 and 2 wives. In the bus mirror I look quite beautiful, too, but don't feel it noticed, $150 a day, I should be choosing not begging. It isn't you, and yet, June 15 Edmonton [between contracts] Immaculate / Cauldron, talking and crackling [Evangeline Walton 1936 Island of the mighty] The dance of the blessed spirits comes over the loudspeaker at the Hungarian restaurant. They're assembled, Suzelle, Jabez, Robert, Caludio, Sue, Bunny, Jean, Gene, Brian, Brigitte. Wine.
Magnified eyes teeth separated by rust lines, unaligned. "How are you." There was typing heard through the door. Sit quiet. Quiet it. He's disturbed. [Carmichael] The beautiful girl in the mirror. Long mirror on the back of the closet door [in the YWCA]. I love to look at that developed dark head. Purple shirt, the Edmonton sweater, shape of the jeans, swift. Pitching the voice purposely. In the Y, not needing to look at it. Her voice, sitting on that chair in the corridor, lonely because she is telling her adventures and sending me nothing. I'm marveling at her voice but I'm afraid of news. And body is full of love, excitement.
Telling Michael: "It was a way to make myself visible." I am letting it be. "You should savor every drop of it." Am I dying is this killing me, participating, does it open the way forever to what had, kept out, kept the delicacy. Oh. "Hope I see the nine lights before I go." "Are you sure you didn't?" I countered boldly and blushed deep and saw the blush seen, and it was well done. "I miss you, I think of you often and when I think of you I miss you." I didn't feel it, I suspended it, and the hold wasn't imprinted, except: what my head did, leaning its side onto his shoulder, and his left knee, brought closer. When I said how I hadn't liked to look at her, both were sitting with our arms tight across our chests. "I haven't had a sensitive thought in 8 days." He sits back, roars. This is the right state of body, it's always in love and yearning, anyone not repelling, 13. Not the person but the bodies, wanting to touch, and touching, that's the way it would be truthfully endless, curiosity, heat, and trying it out. [I love to look at her, I love to look at him. I love to look at that developed dark head. This is the right state of body. It's always in love and yearning, like 13, not the person, the bodies, wanting to touch and touching. The Mabinogian - Mab is another fairy queen.] On the sand track meeting a longhaired girl, brown, silvery, wavy. I look back remembering I've seen her. She's the courtesan. Beside the bank a fox animal I stop to see, black and white on the red feral. The cauldron boiling speaks. "What is it saying?" An eruption, explosion. Back off. Wake on backfiring shots from bus motor, bodies thrown horizontal up and dropped. The cauldron was the fox. (Arriving at Slave Lake, early morning, motel parking lot.) Come in one-eyed and seek through the silk. took him to the sea and baptised him Gwydion's baby in a chest Here at last is my desire, sleeping under my hand.
The cook working fast. She's seeing his head, hearing his voice. Le corridor. The brilliant morning. She's sitting in cleared kitchen, with pages. Bridgitte speaking French. 24 loaves of bread. Dirty girls in cork boots, pull their pants down by the roadside to pee. Through water to their knees.
Mother of fire and crops Mutual in one another's love and wrath all renewing travelling up and down as a stranger in the earth, which way the lord inclined my heart. dared not stay long in any place, lest, being a tender young man, I should be hurt by conversing with - fed one another with words, but trampled upon the life June 18 It was a free zone, the excitement of this moon, but not used. Last night I saw a head, face, smiling toward me. I shut it out instantly, with a slam, in the belly. The face was like Rosalind's, family resemblance, now I think maybe like David, pinch-nosed. Today working in the cookshack, early afternoon, I felt myself close to somewhere else, does that else tell, it doesn't seem to be mine, it's moon and near solstice, we're in a transparent room, thought I heard a bear's snuff. Brian was today's one, Sue angry, Suzelle and Bunny at the washbasins talking, she has her pants down to her knees, and after a while reaches between with the washcloth. Working, the time was faster than I thought. At the speedy end of the last contract I noticed there was much more time than I thought. [two pages of menu ideas] [Slave Lake camp photos: morning - making lunch - Jean - Jeff - Graham - Graham2 - Sue] June 22 What I am is obscene because I'm disqualified. Déformée. Ca me donne plaisir de la déformer. Red shirt. Frame. Attaching a longing. You know what it's like but it isn't for me. And then: I'm not serious either. It's unhappy. Not liking but then going along to be anywhere included.
What would free me from the bodies. June 23
It's a reserved sweet pain. Dancing. Why's no one looking. Like them? Imagining both are shy and seeing the signs not like that. You're a distant spider. Reading the manuscript I thought how I'd admire what you'd say from your willed mind. You're away and I'm not grieving. Is it so. What did wine recklessness say. I'll act drunk. I want to be idiotic = I want to be seen lapsing. Angry and taking back the warmth that doesn't get me seen. [Robert MacLean gives me the manuscript of In a canvas tent] Impatient now: a burn, no one, unlovable, and so what else. Holding a specialness. This morning golden, warm, music, a giddy high, playing; this afternoon pushing to finish details. The best blessing was the face shining, coming back. I liked finding the image for him: he's a naked bird in a tree, with those big eyes. The flown one with a little harp. Euridyce and anyway I still won't be drawn will I, to really give or show slowly in fright. Oh I will. It's wrong and a delight and nothing but social. I was like you but the planting makes the difference. Food good and not. Talk back, hello tent.
[Le corridor in Harmonium L'heptade 1976 CBS Disques] Want to say something about the joy - today in the kitchen Brigitte and I, sitting at the table reading listening to the earphones euphoric in a daydream. I am full of love. Mild warm full alit. Ordinary. Brian I look at you and see my state. The quick of Brian. One motion on the shoulder blades, a sound. The state of love without methodology, Brigitte's pretty face, it is not speaking much to itself, it's seeing intensely, this morning we outlined dinner so we'd have time, working on your lines, felt, imagined. Hello C. Sweetly daydreamed 'you', working, I sent support fantasy to the wrong place, what you were doing instead - and what was the connection, if there's one. I was frightened out of my mind to be arriving at the door, going crazily, stupidly, what is the expression - when it's not alert, animal realm, sniffing forward on the detail, not daring to look before speaking, like Carmichael. That because it's wrongly weighed, I am not clear. In other places it's clear. The cheesecake. Part of it's an intention. It sets itself. -
- What's different. Stress of talking without thinking. Behind it's a shocked watching as the machine emits personality and won't refuse it: that's what I want to know, why - it isn't thinking, I'm not able to think, I'm emitting and watching in the same way they emit and are watched - it is wrong. The states of blazing sight of them, are they wrong. They're not, it's a mix. And - "You look like a soul." You look so beautiful, always know where you are, in intense conflict, now I'll see it - in an intense conflict, the love is a joy, it turns quickly to rage, carelessly assault a victim, pleased to be unfair and mean, and so a tree got it: because I'm full of love and cannot satisfy it. And what that love is: familiar form, fright and enjoy it crudely, the high and daydream are simple joy, those mornings, in the rest of the connections it's letting out, as fast crude surprising as I can: and this one is a puzzle. You look like someone I was, or should be. And because I don't look like anyone, I'm foolish toward you, and know it's wrong, and want something, and refuse to (in danger of a bear) show, and show, and am ashamed, and moon in untestable daydreams. What I seem to be doing is assuming - this is an anguish feeling in lower belly - no, it's so stupid - what way to talk about it. Here: I can't - yes I could if I hide it - alright: There's a cry, one animal, maybe moose, going away from here. (Wolf.) Robert: it isn't you, I don't know if it's you. I wait for you to come in in the morning, the most important - this language is wrong, there's a language - no, it's 'them' - Begin, again: it is embarrassing to say this even here, but it could be description. In the morning I would get up and look at your tent you set up flanking mine at a distance. Brigitte and water kettles, one morning you were there already - I have to take it seriously, somewhere - that's the first - the gaze is joy, being in the same room is necessary - but why - joy and pain in the presence of - speaking isn't necessary - being in the same room, somewhere nearby, is essential, as soon as you leave I no longer want to be there - not to say what the you is - not for your person - being in love without consent, alright I won't deny it, I am in the state of being in love with Robert, and fighting it badly, it has nothing to do with J, fights in the phrases of he thinks I'm old, and I'm lame - but I'm beautiful - following Brigitte with his eyes, it crashed me to see how he is when he likes someone - but he's doing something, enchanting me, with the yellow cap, Alaska and the stars of the Dipper, red shirt, brown shoulders, boots, sneakers, rolled jeans, I can see what's wrong with you and how you work, unworthily, to build image, it isn't the image it's your shine, lightly, you are happy too, do you know there's a conjunction am I alone in it. She said you're never alone in it, kissing, the hot melt, but won't, and then - this - also - is transcribing occurrence - I could do it right? That would be - truthfully - hug - I watched you go to work, stood at the road - long way off, cap, bags, you turned, I stepped behind a bush, was it too far to see, embarrassed for the rest of the day, to have been seen so pathetic - pathetic because I'm not equally desired - the protest that rises up when I say this - refusing - that's where I have to clear it. Isn't it an ignorant state, what does it want - babies - or fusions - for whom, and if refused, what's the loss - oh - it had been clear for some days, we were shining at each other - I look wanting to adore, at the same time marveling - what's this, is it really special to me, an artificial excitement - fantasy the quality of helplessness - it's helplessness because I can't do what's required and that's simply and gladly adore and study - what else do I know about it - that it will be gone as soon as I'm home - it isn't too much to be intelligent in, is this the season I was with J - yes it's June - holding back or circulating in the urgency circle, does it matter. There's another part to this - I'm watching the background despair, it isn't despair felt, it's a comparing sense, says nothing matters, when I write that I hurry to say - then there is that gold morning delight, this week's joy in this life, what is it that's making me stupid - here, the dream answered - what is it making me stupid - I like to be face to face with you - I saw you shine in that way toward Graham - you're there and away - what's making me stupid - that I don't say it - no I don't want your language - it needs a meditating - there's no time - dreams are - And that simple other thing, going to bed, and we'd like it, if we were direct, clear, it wouldn't be a mistake, there'd be pain and tears, so baffled rapt self-absorbed a state because it mustn't, simply for whatever unworthy unserious The next state, love complicated, is there a way for that - as it has been - no it - there was the dream whiff again - if you were here we could - ah Trudy - Mosquito coil snake across the table in front, two candles on the suitcase. There was so much else but if you went out of sight it was no good. Hot sun, we all sat on the slope in front of the helicopter pad, vivid, intensely known persons, you in any of your postures, movements in what felt to be grace and balance, although I'd stumble, expressing my liveliness, and then unbuttoning the shirt to the waist, lying back, a state of hoping to be watched, that must be a lower one, I see in Henry, huh, and you too, is it? But it was potent and delightful for me. I have to refind the question of nature and babies. Flurry. It's no good. I'm so hot, here, among whatever chemicals must be in such intense concentration - is that what they mean 'germs'. Why's he the one nature sics me on. It's mistaken and it's a beautiful intensification. We're going to get through without doing it. I want to know if you're fighting. I want to know whether it's like that. Was it the motel bed, no, sooner, from the supermarket on. - No, back from dream [of the courtesan]. Thinking of the times it's been - Frank - reciprocal and welcome. Careless taking pictures - doing it better would help - some strict work - "Robert was glowing." He's sly too. "Skinny and ugly." Requires: to be it in its warmth but with a sense of honour. Dream - Zoe. It was ovulation again. - [notes from In a canvas tent (published by Sono Nis in 1984)] [Some of these are Robert's lines and some are my glosses on them. I'm not now always sure which are which.] I feel into my belly feelings move and cross Imagine warm air running on the tent surface lambent into cold Image of breath into air as a river without banks Round gazes: moon, pine-knot, porthole
A crystal baby turning in my man womb Pine needles the sound in them High push subsides I lived in a tree (when did you)
which darkness yearning for white warm absorbed in her own inviolate motion in violet motion
on the way to not knowing objects I wanted to spend all day kissing I don't have hands when I touch and the horned breasts took back their tensile tips Bird sings: particles
Is that true
These images will counter what comes toward me from them
I'm waiting to change Long shadows evening under my ribs The sounds at night, heard from a distant origin
But sometimes I want something smaller, a focus
Hair the root of wind : innumerable microtonic beginnings, endings
Listen stood glowing in its two syllables, buds
Sometimes we're so afraid of life that we praise it Stained glass windows opening and closing inside the earth Cities shuffle past on the horizon All we must do is become transparent
Here come the stars one two three Deepening into Nothing's been born yet It has been three years now since someone has stroked my hair
Is the message everything contains its absence How long has it been
Difference a place to be returned from daily
Has he followed each sense to the juncture where it inverts? Nebula drift through his pores opalescent cities Narwhal's track in the frozen Bering, their home's zero
- wetting the hems of their red skirts come to see me through the spaces of the beautifully hanging shade they fish in Wisteria Bay
there is, I hear, a girl of the sea laid herself down in the deepest part of the harbour the city of Nara of good blue clay glows like a flower July 1 Morning brief sleep. Alarm dream after I woke. The instant after the alarm, showed as afterimage I think red dots on blue. The violence is past. Needing to tell D. Suspecting her about money. - I refused the one, turned and walked simply into the other's arms. - In Clearbrook where I was the brown girl in the bluegreen dress, now too old, no contact. This was a morning sleep dream in the new moon sadness. Showing dejection hiding away strategically but there was a moment I didn't see coming, doorway crash of gazes, the one said I see you, the other, it's hopeless go away I'm mad at you, and ducked right with a chagrinned mouth. July 3 Resenting the young one for her goofy song and nose wrinkling, ugly language emptiness, wanting to make charming food to show her prettiness. I think I read something ambitious and empty in her thoughts and am surprised she continues not to seem to notice mine. The job I've made too easy. They were saying the food was good, light. Hot. Still look and today I find the gaze there too. Clarify. The pleasure of these days - this is where I felt liveliness - is in the movements in the room and outside - lifting the big cauldrons throwing a pan of water reaching to open the oven - the movements seem wide balances of the whole body, from the moccasins up, among the many persons whose positions I also feel. His grimaces. Mine. - Yesterday morning at the stove, staying at the stove, still withdrawn, music from the tape machine by the door, I remembered I could make a dancer, I had my eyes open but was seeing the dancer's arms and hands, legs, sometimes parts like the knee, or the whole body. I was making it and watching it, interiorly I was dancing it, and at the same time I was noticing how complete and visible a rapture it put me in, as seen from there, a powerful reversal, I felt it, didn't look to see if watched, it seemed a showing off and I loved to do it : was there an attention already added to mine. When you want someone to love you pull inward. Straw hair around eyes, light bones, looking out from his face's nest. - Anger and sorrow from Slave Lake again - I'll read this he said kindly noticing my eyes' distress when he seemed to be putting away the envelope - the incredulity behind, why am I having to fight this way to be seen - the answer is that it's his. Quoting the poets, he says he has lost it, the child surfaces in déjà vu, by a tunnel, the tunneling was to survey the life, whether it is going to be what he longs for - at 17 he fasted, he says, for 30 days - there was a spiritual stature in that to impress us all. They gathered around the table, Henry and Brian - I knew my position was wrong, but I had to speak and learn - without generosity the marvelous possibility would be wasted - and to be speaking to him - he was being adored - Brian said "You're one of the high ones" and brought the red blanket after my teeth chattered. What he enchants with: Nepal, turquoise, the flute, color, taking off his shirt, his eyes. "One time when I was meditating a skunk came onto my lap, and a porcupine." I didn't know if it was true but I had a real story, the joy laugh I heard and when I said "You're the only person I ever met who's kept a journal longer than I have" not necessarily believing he'd had it since he was seven and Beethoven at three - outraged between knowing I'm at least his match, and it unacknowledged, why - marveling - he builds his image and doesn't see - makes himself taller than he is, pretty shoulders, the Alaska hat with [sketch of the Great Bear] blue on yellow. Valhalla, the Lake House, 8 July Clear yellow moon in the clean half pointing northwest. It is bright in light blue. O dear color. Prove a philosophy by whether if there's no proving other it would have been the best one: an additional proof. I don't think you won't come to see me: It isn't you. What's it. You'll come to look for me. I don't see it. Is it different from the fantasy current I was in hearing conversations, seeing the face vividly vividly. A state of fantasy is what. None of it happened. On the morning Sue and he rushing toward me. What did I have for breakfast? furiously, thinking it was over if it had passed that night. Oh eyes I have to be in front of you. Bitter.
Expand it. Will I look for you if I have to. Maybe.
I think you'll arrive here although you won't. "A complicated theory of vortices." The earth is really one infinite plane. Full of symbols, crystal cabinets. This mother: space; plant life; the courtesan. When they are doing real work, they do better than this. The buried power of desire A spectre, mere desire or reason
The life of expanded and released desire, innocence.
Kindling, she led him into shadows, and thence fled outstretched / Upon the immense like a bright rainbow Wisdom is sold in the desolate market How it buds with life and forms the bones, The little heart, the liver, and the red blood in its labyrinths your lilies that gave light and the Cedar spread his wings in Clouds and Fires around the rock and the Mysterious Tree anxious its little soul looks out into the clear expanse
Round the earth they march in order, flame by flame And in the Earth / Of a bright Universe
Lost! Lost! Are my emanations efflux effluence to flow forth from a source O Enion thou art thyself a root growing in hell round roll'd the sea self-balancing creating spaces, lest they fall summer's heat, they sport in enormous love
Open the hidden Heart in Wars of mutual Benevolence, Wars of Love He had been swinging over where I crouched. In the broken earth of the streetworks I find the plastic bag with his Pentax, lens smashed. Other things. A file of pictures of men putting rods into each others' anuses. (Her daughter born after that ceremony.) Does it mean he's Jabez lying down. Clothes. A notebook, I look for my name. "She has half her health." I'll look for more later. Some clothes I recognize. I have a reason now to find him, but I could just leave them at the office.
Whose voice is this, in the voice of the nourishing air, in the spirit of the morning
And here I see thee, house, remain in my most pleasant world And in the morning, the sun arose in the crystal sky Oh bless the lovely eyes of Tharmas and the Eyes of Enion Then all the slaves from every Earth in the wide Universe Limping from his fall Conversing with the Animal forms of wisdom night and day
Paracelsus Oculus Phainomenon
[Tom Raworth's mean poem about watching a limping woman pass]
Tears of honesty An outside spread without and an outside spread within A founder cell - intimate contact We call this the first cleavage What I want to tell about It has been called: your bad leg, your polio foot
July 10
- [page of financial records, money earned needed and owed] - Now it has come to a quiet seeking in the detail, instead of philosophy I have a slight sense of refusal: that isn't worth thinking. Being in the middle, definitely being, without knowing. 'Simplicity.' I like simplicity and the sense of balance in a completely built vision. You see me to know. (Are the others more sophisticated.) I was speaking to my first class. Does someone love me at home. Without a light heart it can't be done. Plants.
Blake Glück turquoise I was naming it so it would embarrass me.
I refused the one, turned and walked simply into the other's arms to listen; to look at birds Waking later, but still early; a sound like a rising-bell. Come from the tent to the cookshack, many people inside cooking. Brenda at the stove. Is he here, yes. I hang around, he sits at the table. Brenda's talking to him. I sit with them, with my tea. When I can, I ask him something. He stays to talk. Brian and Henry come. I won't let them in, this is with you. It is you who leaves it. My teeth chatter. Brian brings the red blanket. I think he says it's Robert's. I put my nose into it. Brenda says I know. Not wanting to begin the work. Looking at them. Then starting, Sue, Danielle. Graham has begun to take down the tarps. He is up on the poles looking the granny. I go outside to see how he looks. Come and go packing whatever I think of. Danielle washing pots. It rains briefly, he's out on the dry plaza. I get my boots from under the tarp by putting pail lids, white plastic, down. He goes away back toward his tent. Mine's down. The cowboy crew passed in the green crewcab, waving, Bill at the back window shouts "Thank you your cooking was excellent," Dennis and Katy on the back. Waving to Katy. We're hanging around the tarp. Brenda goes to sleep. Caludio. The night before was a fire I woke and came back to, walked once around the fire. Dennis offered the bottle and a spot. The checker's folded-lip smile. Suzelle and Jabez. Caludio uncontrollably singing Mexican songs. Mike and his cute creations. Gene knows silly lyrics to known songs. David wants to sing old ugly ones. Suzelle hovering with Jabez a last evening. Sue has Mike to massage. David puts his hand on the back of my neck, I look stiffly the other way. Henry notices. The checker wants hymns. Twice through The circle's chorus. Brian singing on the other side of the circle. John hunched in shorts is the one who wants to be near me, Graham for a while. Is it getting darker. Ignorant talk about the stars. The Summer Triangle. Vega Altair Cygnus. He's in bed away from our vulgarity. Is he sleeping. Do I want to sing that, a confused round we never learn. I stay until only a few are left. Want to sleep so little. They're saying the sky is lighter. They dig through the boxes looking for food. I know to tell them to try the other pile, French bread. Go up the road, looking for him, no, but to be closer and then shocked and ashamed to see him lying on his gear right at the road. I go by miserably devouring the bread, looking somewhere else, to my spot on the rise. I'll meditate. Take off my shirt. The fine heat, flies. Listen to the flies' dotted lines on my breasts, is it the form of lovemaking I can have today. Listening to the grass behind, for a visit. Go back to the tarp, shocked he's there, asleep among the rest, holding The four quartets. Gene and Jeff striding back. We're to carry our stuff out. I use the counted breath and don't stop for Sue complaining. He's ahead, red sweater balancing through mucky parts, going on constantly, and arriving, glad to go back for the heavier piece, tie on the cork boots. He's behind, when I stop he just comes into view. Hoist it on head, it bounces, the boots knock, or shoulder, a shorter count, 1-2, but it's strong, a gear, the last narrow and climbing part will be a hard balance but I feel I'll be able to dance through it, and nearly do, but fall into the muck at the last dodge around a branch. He's taken the other side and gets ahead. Stow it, and get my suitcase back. Sit by the road. Graham in the back of the bus in an armchair. The pink fireweed and the other pink/yellow small flower, in grass, it's paradise color, I look at it from the bus seat, but want, dream, am intensely hallucinating, your gaze, conversations. I want to look at myself in the bus mirror, beautiful, in the yellow raincoat I think I'm you, briefly in the yellow Alaska hat. I want to be seen but not looking at myself. A long wait, I can see the yellow from you, sitting crosslegged in the ditch, on the grass stems. You sit in front of my eyes. Danielle sits next to you. Next glance Bunny has squeezed between you and is talking to you. Your enemy's courting you. Mine throws me glances, I won't answer. Sue builds a fire. Two sparks on my Andre Mitchel jeans. When Chantale asks about my film you move closer. Le message c'est de bien voir, et de bien écouter. Did you want to hear that. The two arrivals of the Bombardier with gear. Gene spreading an arm and leg wide off the side, in his yellow hard hat. "Sometimes I love Gene. I don't approve of him but I can't help ..." to Sue, and you in the ditch have an air of listening. You're hanging back when we choose positions. David in the Argo. "What's it like." "Airy." "That's not a bad idea." Jabez says it's not safe. I feel like a risk. We're really in danger, Jabez's driving too fast. It's dusty. The Argo will slam up against the back of the bus. Henry climbs out to wave Jabez to stop. Brian has taken off his pants, battery acid. They say I'm grey with dust. Graham and Brian in the bus door, with their legs fending off the Argo, bump to throw the heavy trailer onto us. I could do with an accident and know it. He's gone up into Yan's truck. At the mudhole we're to walk through, the blue 4x4 sticks, is pushed back, Graham at the side excellently pushing, I'm smiling admiring how men push trucks in mudholes. It sticks again, they'll winch it, from far back out of the way of a snapped cable I see Gene in the road dart down and dance sideways with the cable. "Look at Gene!" 'S lumberjack skill. He's listening and to the right. And was watching just before when Gene and I met up in the long grass chewing grass ends, jousted with them in our mouths. He said I was really a sweetheart and I said he was too and slapped his face with a sideways movement of my head, the plume of the grass stalk. He and Henry watching jealously to see who I love but without offering me anything. Comical politics of attraction continue. From one of the mudholes keep walking. Suzelle, Chantale, Chris, through burnt forest, shining pine seedlings, greasy pooled water, overcast luminous plantlife. We keep walking until we're emerged at the gravel pit where the vehicles are parked. Yan writing checks. R walking around, playing with the red dog. Now we're sorting to go to the motel. R with Sue. I've taken a ride with Allen. Do we alternate avoiding each other. I don't bunk with them but I still hope to end up - Walk from the motel, in moccasins, sore feet from the rubber boots, to the pizza house. They've filled the back. R's table, Jabez, Suzelle, Sue, Brenda. I pull up a chair. He's been drinking wine, two bottles of Black Tower, one has pink tape around the neck. He's friendly. I shine back and play for him, the clean white shirt, a piece of pizza too hot taken dropped caught flipped onto the plate right side up. Brenda phoning the train station. Other tables. Graham with Yan Brian Jeff talking about vehicles. Chantale and Denis alone unmissed. Bunny with Danielle. Where's Gene. The party has filled their back room, our superior high energy and color, dirty, victorious adventurers of both sexes. Robert and Jabez have 4 of 6 women. Suzelle and Sue are saying they want a final talk. I don't want to hear it. R is independently going to the motel, oh I want to be invited. Glare and hurry ahead through the hay ditches, writing name [at the register] they're together, Sue and Robert. I'm across the hall. Barefoot, invited, leap onto the bed with Sue, playfully smell her. And then Henry! Comes in and through eyeslits I see you take off your shirt and sit in the armchair with your back to me, to talk to Henry! I leave and can't sleep, Sue comes in tweaks my feet lovingly through the bedspread, don't know what she knows. Suzelle never does come in. In the morning they tumble out their door, why do they look like that, and go to breakfast. I want to look at no one else. In the café am allowed one little more time, talking fast, oddly, competing, indignant, and I shoulder my bag and go down the road, stop the first car. You're behind me, hope you miss saying goodbye. Slave Lake fields woods the lake, rapidly leaving them all thus easily sadly fleetly up the unfamiliar road, friendly to the stranger drivers, windy corners, the blue scarf around my head, a corner I know from that trip to Hines Creek, the clover ditches, past Peoria, Teepee Creek Road, walk from La Glace, delicious air, gravel hurts through the moccasins, and to Epp's empty house, still full of your image, wanting to tell the story, sleeping a little, restless. It's funny how whiskey jacks will tame up right away. Roland Kranz, I get so mad at him, every groundhog he sees he has to kill it. He was in my place one night two, three, years ago, he give me that. Bill was a little bit on the simple side. I sure like this truck, how biga motor have you got. [Helmer talking to my dad at Spring Lake, Sunday afternoon] There was a clear sky above the dead sea. I'd had the flu so I couldn't go up the Mount Masada, that's a famous mountain in history. - Thunder thumped the house, I felt it under my foot from the kitchen, where the floor seemed to have more contact. Knallen. The spruce branches - when I looked at them they aren't spruce they're those many winged trees in a row, dark - blue fill from beyond the candle, a flash I didn't look up to see - hiss in minute parts, rising volume, round leaves, needles, another blue flash. Just after it the candle flapped, a roll over the roof north to south. The sea of sound. Looking at my face, a blue flash left of it from where I look out, my face I love. They fly's deep something like one rub sound from stumbling into the flame, falling onto the stove. Your inventions here. A few drops rattle - my bed - carrying it to the porch. The smell of earth has come. Is the rattle through the upstairs window. Doris from her post between the windows, it lit behind her, two candles, two glass jars with small flowers, two faces looking separately. Her left, if it isn't reversed, has a sad eye and an unreal smile. Her right has the eye from further back and is not smiling. Neither is a face I like. Profile a man with a beard. Double attention. M today said she had loved Miriam [Pilgrimage] but still couldn't read 4-gated city. "Her vision is so dark." Is she dying. The picture above is candles in a graveyard. I wanted to send her the picture, had flowers set in front of her image, thought it was to show the long grass beyond a desk and window. De Beauvoir telling her early days with Sartre, "We were twins." We were the love of necessity, there would be other loves for fun, she said.
The sperm whale Flowers sexual bundles the violet's seeds jumping out makes the stem and chalice jump in the bouquet
Want to talk about what occurred in the tree planting time, Meziadin, difficulty of planting because I knew some of them, taken in, fit about Henry, they began to get beautiful, alternation energy and not, not sleeping enough, injuries, bites, disliking Dale, John. Edison - at first panic, then speed, sex intenser, get beautiful, wanted to touch and did, Claudette, enmity with Francine, not liking David. Edmonton high noisy open moon. Slave Lake - wonderful mornings, music, attention, then captured, Brigitte helps, high days, crash. The break, second site, quietened obsessed, not anxious in expansion, acting out hatred, Danielle's anxiety. For planting: food technology. Remember sit. Breakfast. It is theoretically possible for human females to be similarly produced by human females, since all eggs, human as well as Daphnia, produce, during the process of maturation, another genetically complete but diminished copy of themselves known as the Polar Body in mammals thrown off by the egg and absorbed by the tissues of the ovary, in Daphnia reintegrated into the egg, plays role of sperm, and supplies missing genetic materials. One of two spherical bodies separated from ovum at maturation. Now I want to ask you for stories, somebody to have had adventures and long to tell them. My fantasy has turned from you. From upstairs down onto the strawberry bed, squirrel picked off a green strawberry, held it in forepaws, ground through it like a little grinder, ran under the big leaves examining the stems, none big enough. I ate 2 earlier, taste like kiwi.
Not someone behind offering tests, but a constant nextness besideness of a structure that offers something to be known. "We are supported." The way I'm too much for you. You turn me off: I won't forgive. - What do I want to find out. Ashton-Warner: the impulsive running person that cross lit-up person would anyone love her, 's the question, childish, violent, knowing myself unknown, angry. What I didn't do was record the brilliant time in the cookshack and around, and why not, because it doesn't occur to her. That being-true, how. If I find what the distance is for, then. I like to stay away from fear. For service I know; being-true is it. And fear when. Illusion or what, restless, have to get to you, it says, my hair's beautiful, grownup woman, but where are you, what depends on how I name it, there the care, Matawhero is too closely concerned with the personal relation to - Should it be freely given its feelings, and then will there be something left. Look at the shine out of the brown skin on the back of my wrist. I'd love her, look at her eyes and shapely hair. There's the old gross one in profile, who's seen that, is it sleeping too much and coffee.
Raised: listen. Afterwards transcribe or not. I must know you; and there's battle, can't be skipped but - Something to be happy, reluctant, why, other things do, It's full moon, ate until my midriff was stiff, thick unclear profile. Hello mouse. It's not a beautiful -
Driving mindless after the phone call, complex west levels openings overlaid open and close arches of clouds dark and light blue - what I had to notice was that I'm eager to tell her my attachment. After this thinking - waking in thought has been unusual - I've been wondering how to have in Vancouver a speed job to keep that efficiency - lean speed as if cellular - dreamed I was going downstairs in boots and shorts, raincoat, I go out with J, she's at the piano, he's in bed with her lover, I go lie down on the outside of the bed, her black hair (it's in the position of Greg's bed), "Because you haven't been touching me I haven't been" - she wakes, is going to be willing to be with me, her friend is sleeping, I'm wanting to be loved back into life, her friend wakes, someone, becomes little Dianna, I'm remembering the foretells, simple confiding voice, "Do you want to see what Jam gave me", in a plastic bubble. Jam doesn't want me to see, a large jade carving on a fine chain, I take J's head detached and hang it lightly against the wall and speak to her into the small tape recorder, saying what I feel, have my back to them, looking for the fast forward button. Wake from it, belly fear I haven't been in since before Terrace, instructing myself to notice the quality, how in those adventures where I looked fine, there wasn't anxiety like this. The spinster/virgin state not in fear, the embarrassments of the intensity of desire, thought of as that, by them, but not that chronic endless anxiety of unsafe position. And what to conclude. "As if it was the right thing and you're now denying it." "As
if it was the right thing and you're now denying it." I repeat it,
wondering where it belongs, does it belong to the story of x the fool. Or
to something of hers. [recipes for baked custard, fudge, macaroni cheese, cookies, bulgar bean salad, chili, cornbread, coconut curry, eggplant spaghetti, spinach pudding, peanut stew, eggplant and mushroom pie, carrot bread, sweet and sour beet-carrot salad, cheesecake filling, apple cake, Yorkshire pudding, Lebanese black bean soup, Tibetan noodle soup, Yogi tea, bubbly mead]
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