Brad Haas
TRIFOCAL:
VICO’S NOTEBOOK
THE VILLAGE BY THE PLAIN
EXPEDITION
... aggravated by the inhaling of glass
dust from the polishing of lenses ...
MUNDUS VULT DECIPI.
* * *
* *
*
Despite his life of poverty, Giambattista
Vico was able to escape occasionally to
the countryside; these excursions opened
immense horizons beyond his limited
early environment.
Vico stays in a modest house.
Now old, he intermittently
wakes from exhaustion to
dash off prophetic lines...
VICO'S NOTEBOOK (1744)
This year I am trying to exorcise the
evil spirit by setting him free, in the
shape of a small volume ...
I. CLIO'S CHILDREN
Like swatted flies
demons exorcised
flutter to flight,
circle, land and
perch again.
II. ROME
We drank
and ate
our fill,
slept in
our beds,
others'.
And the
gods left
for love
of us,
or lack.
Winter
clings to
April
so that
we can
not tell
if the
winds blow
snow or
cherry
blossoms.
III. THE PASSION OF MOSES
...behold, the skin of his face shone;
and they were afraid to come nigh him.
Angel hoard of the Ancient Lord
fired me into the sun,
dowsed me with water,
finials of steam rising from my back.
My face so shines they cannot look on me,
and their calf shows tinsel aside authentic gold -
I crack the law in two.
The calf
powdered,
sprinkled
In the water
for them to drink.
I cracked the law in two.
Fate has us -
some to the open ground,
I to Mt. Nebo.
Only after
I am gone -
Canaan, kingdoms, visions
of wheels
within wheels.
IV. CORPUS DEI
Each Easter
I received a
small basket with
one color-
coated malted
milk egg in-
side -
speckled, shiny,
new.
Each year one would appear
as if from never-ending
confectionery supplies.
But one time (the
last?) I
spread the plastic grass to find
a blue egg, broken,
its malt spilled into piles
of sand, until a breeze
blew by, and ran with it.
V. COGNIZANCE
Give me!
dawning of celestial light.
Give me!
drawing on terrestrial night:
grays and blues drown
fracted hues,
stark fascination
spangles
darkened fabrication.
Stumbling through, searching: found!
To what was searched for: bound!
Strapped to the sun
gone round again,
at noon now, but soon
to drop below the rim.
VI. WHAT THE BOOKSELLER SAID
to carlo i say:
- do you see much hope? (i.e. a.d.)
- no.
laughter, then after:
- i don't see ANY hope.
VII. SHINSPLINTS AT SUNDOWN (490 B.C. - 2010 A.D.)
"Rejoice, the victory is ours!"
distance runner stopped
runner's muscles cramped and sore
race course darkened, blocked
VIII. ROAD MAP FOR THE NEW WORLD
Concrete
joints wak-
ing you.
‘Where are
we go-
ing to?'
You smi-
le faint-
ly when
I say
‘New Hope,
Pennsyl-
vania.'
IX. THE APPEARANCE OF THINGS
On the road
walks a man
shouldering
a satchel.
Contents
of the satchel
unknown.
If we knew
where he came from
or knew where
he is going -
if we only
knew the contents
of the satchel -
would our world
become larger
or seemingly smaller?
Or, not knowing,
richer -
the imagined
better
than reality?
The house sits in a village.
THE VILLAGE BY THE PLAIN
I. THE NEW GREEN
Lambs nibble
grass with no
thought of the
butcher.
II. PLAYING HOUSE
The transition was as usual.
Brown boxes, bubble wrap,
slow rediscovery of possessions,
occasional
cracked cup or chipped saucer.
Drapes did not match walls
and curtain rods wrong size.
You cried.
Arranged, rearranged
settee, coffee table,
two odd end tables,
magazine rack, floor lamp,
lamp with pink shade.
Sought rational geometric design,
but finding none resigned:
space dictated form.
Mailman brought
first gift -
Mexican madonna
blue framed, and tho
not divine
hung her next to
parents vacationing in
North Carolina.
Kitchen cupboards doorless,
shelves open and naked.
Placed placemats,
used utensils, spice filled
jam jars to facilitate
utility. Refrigerator
found unplugged,
and we desired ice.
We need food, you said.
Left you shelving
dogged paperbacks
in hallway.
Outside building,
dropped
useless curtain rods in
nearby bin.
Returned from local supermarket,
you on knees scrubbing round toilet's base.
Unloaded groceries: tomato soup, soda crackers,
coffee, milk, baked beans, wheat bread,
strawberry jam, a giant bag of frozen peas.
Why frozen peas? you asked.
They had a special.
Well, its a tiny freezer - that won't fit.
Supper, stuffed ourselves with peas.
Relegated rest to small plastic bags
till freezer was full.
Ones left just sat, turned mush
in summer heat, since we, so busy,
did not notice till next morning
bag sagging over counter
and drips puddled on tiled floor.
III.
Portrait of Autumn:
Red-flecked tweed of the back woods.
Transience in cloth.
IV. 31st OCTOBER
So much depends
upon...
Insular clouds drop.
Drops tapping plop.
Sad to see
pink towel and shift
drying wet
on the neighbor's
laundry tree.
V. RESTORATION
For whom the cracks in our plastered walls
Cry out for me "I die! die!"
Color me any color you like;
I disdain your crude processes.
Cracks appear in our plaster -
and you propose a new coat of paint.
Scour walls, seal leaks;
probe openings and
clean out the stoppage, replace
rusting iron with copper.
Rip up rotten floorboards -
then you can dance with
no fear of floors collapsing, you
can dance without an ankle breaking.
But you propose
a new coat of paint
to cover it up
and let everything rot
underneath.
VI. IN BED, ALONE
Lights all out, the invisible waves, the hums,
the perennial, everpresent chatbox silenced
as if only now known:
it never knew the art of conversation.
Motion defined
is diaphragm;
sleepshifting body, an earthquake.
Lights all out, save lamps of
mind's eye
which project your image
onto backs of eyelids.
Awakened - Eyes
open and cannot see ceiling.
Fluffing pillow,
letting head sink
at deepest
point,
feeling the soft
cool comfort
of cotton sheets, but
saddened if not
surprised not
meeting something
softer, and warm.
VII. BEWARE, BEWARE!
A gnat
circles three times
my wrist
A giant tomato
over-ripe
on the counter since
last week
gathers a crowd
of small flying insects
Three times round
my wrist
flies a gnat
An insect cloud gathers over
an over-ripe
tomato
Fruit
or just vegetable,
rotting and not
knowing
VIII. WINTER WOOD
This man is falle, with his astromye,
In som woodnesse or in som agonye.
Stiff stick fingers clink 'gainst glasses.
Wheat raised to white willowed heads,
piebald, poured in hollows till full,
and things of this world float away -
something solid would have sunk -
but things of this world float away.
Beyond the village
is the plain.
Across this distance
axe-cleared,
mole-ridden,
devoid of rise or dip
the expedition sets out.
At the edge of sight
the flat horizon
acts as median and
oblique objective,
miles and miles away.
EXPEDITION
To distort for the present
what the past holds.
MEN OF SCIENCE
(A song for specialized voices)
Upon the whole, I never beheld
in all my Travels so disagreeable
an Animal, or one against which
I naturally conceived so strong
an Antipathy.
What I most want is an intelligent
man of science, a thing I shall never find.
ZOOLOGIST:
How then sun burned
through dew-point and
breath came vapour
like from bulls' nostrils
in morning
(or was it evening?)
air.
Stretching arms to hold you
I put them in your coat -
was warmer there and
could feel smooth waist,
hips, ribs, thighs,
stepping vertebrae, and
realized I was holding a skeleton.
ORNITHOLOGIST:
Who are these flightless birds?
What downy feathers
and rare plumage
mask their bony
underflesh?
DERMATOLOGIST:
They say bad things of you
which must be true -
inner acne, blemishes on
the unseen and intangible.
THE FAILED GEOMETRY TEACHER (voiceless, in absentia):
‘Send the body back east,'
is all the cool southerners could say
of the late, aspiring
mathematician.
His whiskers were not yet long.
The flame still burned on his cheeks.
REANIMATOR:
‘He's not dead,' he said,
kicking the corpse into action.
This convinced no one;
the crowd began to disperse.
ARCHAEOLOGIST:
Digging in the peat,
fingers probing loam
in search of the old bones -
back home the bones make
good door jambs and
kitchen cupboard latches.
FIGURE STUDIES
Like all great artists, St. Gaudens
held up the mirror and no more.
I. WHAT THE SPHINX SAID
... twenty centuries of stony sleep ...
I sense carpet-weave hair,
skin of scented neck,
feline shoulder blades.
These are phantoms -
I grasp the air.
Lazy archaeologist,
deny nature -
sling shovel to shoulder
and find me,
uncover my half-buried image -
I can no longer move
for the weight of the sand;
I am as stone.
II. TWO DISCARDED IMAGES OF DIFFERENT DENSITIES
I lie in
a watery bed.
My darkness:
in my depth.
Yours,
a buoy, bobs
on
swelling surf.
III. STATUES OF NO SUBSTANCE
By candlelight statues
of a different kind -
dim figures on ledges
edged closer to edges,
flickering figures
mimicking fire.
NOTES ON FOUND OBJECTS
FIRST FORAGE: MUNDUS
Question Posed to a China Doll Head
Q: Was your hair
once long and fair?
A: Once was long
and fair indeed.
Sparkplug
Not to live but
born to die,
and be reborn,
in each new
waking second.
Latex
Indiscriminate net
for half of life
shrivelled in dryness.
Artifact of
de-generation.
SECOND FORAGE: SPIRITUS
Song of the Nightingale
[...tapes play, but hear
no music discerned
by the rational ear.]
Hermetic Divination
Removing the
adhesive sticker
from a pear,
ripping the skin,
exposing a heart.
A Matter of Process
At mere heat
of reaching hand
static soap spheres
spatter.
THE NUMINOUS
If the numinous is supposed to have been the
primary interpretation, it is still already
interpretation and not the thing itself that
is interpreted. But we possess no other reality
than the one we have interpreted.
...and a large part of the earth is still in the Urne unto us.
I.
Uncovered with morning,
throughout the day passed hand to hand,
smooth sides fingered,
earthy scent smelled,
the subtle structure scrutinized.
Of the object
could be stated
a single fact:
they were drawn to it,
like evening drawn on day.
Yet later in tents, by torchlight were scribbled
boastful journal entries -
claims, and predictions
of a Golden Age.
II.
The object,
sensing
noses,
fingers,
eyes and ears
sensing,
sensed
it was being
misunderstood.
Members of the expedition
carry wrapped objects
in shoulder satchels.
At the edge of sight
the horizon is changeless -
miles and
miles later still
miles and
miles away.
Education had ended for all three,
and only beyond some remoter horizon
could its value be fixed or renewed.
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