{ Larry Levis: In the City of Light. }

In the City of Light
by Larry Levis

The last thing my father did for me
Was map a way: he died, & so
Made death possible. If he could do it, I
Will also, someday, be so honored. Once,

At night, I walked through the lit streets
Of New York, from the Gramercy Park Hotel
Up Lexington & at that hour, alone,
I stopped hearing traffic, voices, the racket

Of spring wind lifting a newspaper high
Above the lights. The streets wet,
And shining. No sounds. Once,

When I saw my son be born, I thought
How loud this world must be to him, how final.

That night, out of respect for someone missing,
I stopped listening to it.

Out of respect for someone missing,
I have to say

This isn't the whole story.
The fact is, I was still in love.
My father died, & I was still in love. I know
It's in bad taste to say it quite this way. Tell me,
How would you say it?

The story goes: wanting to be alone & wanting
The easy loneliness of travelers,

I said good-bye in an airport & flew west.
It happened otherwise.
And where I'd held her close to me,
My skin felt raw, & flayed.

Descending, I looked down at the light lacquering fields
Of pale vines, & small towns, each
With a water tower; then the shadows of wings;
Then nothing.

My only advice is not to go away.
Or, go away. Most

Of my decisions have been wrong.

When I wake, I lift cold water
To my face. I close my eyes.

A body wishes to be held, & held, & what
Can you do about that?

Because there are faces I might never see again,
There are two things I want to remember
About light, & what it does to us.

Her bright, green eyes at an airport--how they widened
As if in disbelief;
And my father opening the gate: a lit, & silent

City.

--

My only advice is not to go away. / Or, go away. Most // Of my decisions have been wrong.

{ Anne Michaels: Phantom Limbs. }

Phantom Limbs
by Anne Michaels

"The face of the city changes more quickly, alas! than the mortal heart."
—Charles Baudelaire

So much of the city
is our bodies. Places in us
old light still slants through to.
Places that no longer exist but are full of feeling,
like phantom limbs.

Even the city carries ruins in its heart.
Longs to be touched in places
only it remembers.

Through the yellow hooves
of the ginkgo, parchment light;
in that apartment where I first
touched your shoulders under your sweater,
that October afternoon you left keys
in the fridge, milk on the table.
The yard - our moonlight motel -
where we slept summer's hottest nights,
on grass so cold it felt wet.
Behind us, freight trains crossed the city,
a steel banner, a noisy wall.
Now the hollow diad !
floats behind glass
in office towers also haunted
by our voices.

Few buildings, few lives
are built so well
even their ruins are beautiful.
But we loved the abandoned distillery:
stone floors cracking under empty vats,
wooden floors half rotted into dirt;
stairs leading nowhere; high rooms
run through with swords of dusty light.
A place the rain still loved, its silver paint
on rusted things that had stopped moving it seemed, for us.
Closed rooms open only to weather,
pungent with soot and molasses,
scent-stung. A place
where everything too big to take apart
had been left behind.

{ Most / Of my decisions have been wrong. }

( Doctor Who, 5x10, Vincent and the Doctor. )

--

Taking Friday off turned out to be an excellent idea because apparently getting up before 5am every day was getting to me - that, plus the cold, ensured I slept until 11.30am. Much-needed, I guess, though it did throw the day somewhat, and that type of thing makes me irrationally anxious.

The past two days have been all about Wire in the Blood which I feel was an excellent decision. a) because it is fabulous and I hadn't realised quite how much I miss it, and b) because I keep overreacting to people's offhand comments with overwhelming irritation. I don't know; the heat makes me prickly. Plus: hormones.

--

This morning my two elder cousin brothers turned up with a sofa set that one of them needs to store somewhere for a while. This resulted in much hilarity. I love my cousin brothers. I talk about them less than my cousin sisters because the relationships are different, and the boys are older, but they are badass. Had a hilarious late breakfast with them.

Before that I took a hot shower in humid weather and promptly fell victim to my body's out-of-control broken thermostat. I spent about 45 minutes wishing death on myself, wondering why I felt like hell. That was fucking atrocious, let me tell you. Horrible.

--

Re-watched Alice in Wonderland last night. I still like it, hurrah! Mostly I adore Bonham-Carter's Red Queen. "Hello...Miwana." lol.

--

Another damn driving lesson tomorrow. Ugh, whatever. And then back to a full working week on Monday.