 | The Cavalier daily. Monday, October 14, 1968 |  |
NIGHT FELL IN NINEVEH
(prompted by "The Epic of Gilgamesh")
Night fell in Nineveh, again and then ten thousand times,
Cold night, inhuman night, the lion fell, and Ashurbanipal
Night fell, and wandered then on cool and silent stone the goddess:
"All who were gone. Only I
Who need not sacrifice of wind
Nor warmth of smoke live still. The jealous,
Proud, wise and passioned, all have passed.
Sibilance and wail, on the mountain home
The wind and I converse, where once the wise,
The proud, the strong and passioned played in light.
All have passed. I cannot die
For men must and will, and have still
My silent love, the last and pure
And cold. One by one the great
Immortals come to rest in my cold
Arms, on my cold breast, to enter
Into nothingness. Only death's
Goddess lives, and she rests, and rests, and rests"
Cold night, inhuman night, the lion fell, and Ashurbanipal
Night fell, and wandered then on cool and silent stone the goddess:
"All who were gone. Only I
Who need not sacrifice of wind
Nor warmth of smoke live still. The jealous,
Proud, wise and passioned, all have passed.
Sibilance and wail, on the mountain home
The wind and I converse, where once the wise,
The proud, the strong and passioned played in light.
All have passed. I cannot die
For men must and will, and have still
My silent love, the last and pure
And cold. One by one the great
Immortals come to rest in my cold
Arms, on my cold breast, to enter
Into nothingness. Only death's
Goddess lives, and she rests, and rests, and rests"
DESCENT OF THE DOVE 1968: A LETTER TO A FRIEND
As you know I hunt. This summer, my last
Day at home, I hunted doves; it was one,
And hot as only Texas in the sun
Can be; too hot for doves. Half the day passes
And I had only heard the muted running
Trill doves make in flight.
Day at home, I hunted doves; it was one,
And hot as only Texas in the sun
Can be; too hot for doves. Half the day passes
And I had only heard the muted running
Trill doves make in flight.
I walk and watch the sun's descent bring dark
Shadows down. I cross an empty creek bed
And climb the steep sandy other side, led
By the whirr and trill I hunt. As I start
Up into the sun above my head throbs
From the head and climb, until the wind-sobs
Shadows down. I cross an empty creek bed
And climb the steep sandy other side, led
By the whirr and trill I hunt. As I start
Up into the sun above my head throbs
From the head and climb, until the wind-sobs
Of the rising dove catch at my brain;
I turn - passing along the creek lip fast
Behind the dove flies awkward can't last
Rapid near unbalanced flight from pain
And turns across me gun up unbidden -
The pain catches up, and the fall is sudden.
I turn - passing along the creek lip fast
Behind the dove flies awkward can't last
Rapid near unbalanced flight from pain
And turns across me gun up unbidden -
The pain catches up, and the fall is sudden.
I went and got him. That's all.
I am too tired tonight for metaphysics, friend,
For making sense of this or any other end;
I need to sit in silence deep as the dove's fall.
I am too tired tonight for metaphysics, friend,
For making sense of this or any other end;
I need to sit in silence deep as the dove's fall.
McCASLIN AND THE BEAR
McCaslin: Jefferson will advance and earth and deer
Fall back further, bayou water dark in life
Dry up. With a few pathetic prisoners
In zoos and parks it marks its triumph,
In the land's lungs expands,
And breath comes hard.
Fall back further, bayou water dark in life
Dry up. With a few pathetic prisoners
In zoos and parks it marks its triumph,
In the land's lungs expands,
And breath comes hard.
Where Doom's feet tread the pavement grows -
I cannot hear the deer move for the cars -
Lights will follow and assault the gentle dark -
They leave so few stars.
I cannot hear the deer move for the cars -
Lights will follow and assault the gentle dark -
They leave so few stars.
The Bear: McCaslin hunts like Doom himself through
the shadowed swampy woods well-taught the
silence small woods creatures water wind
and branches' noises make inviolate
as when deer pass through, or me,
and I move like a shadow resolving
only the slight stiff difference of pattern
proves a purpose moves.
the shadowed swampy woods well-taught the
silence small woods creatures water wind
and branches' noises make inviolate
as when deer pass through, or me,
and I move like a shadow resolving
only the slight stiff difference of pattern
proves a purpose moves.
McCaslin, love the things you kill.
Whatever bleeds, enjoys.
But if it has not pulse breath will,
It is of the City, and destroys.
Whatever bleeds, enjoys.
But if it has not pulse breath will,
It is of the City, and destroys.
—Pieter Schenkkan
| The Cavalier daily. Monday, October 14, 1968 | |