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The Abelard Poets

EMPTIED SPACES

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The Abelard Poets

EMPTIED SPACES

DAVID JAFFIN

with an etching especially created for this volume by Jacques Lipchitz

Abelard-Schuman London

© Copyright 1972 by David JaffînLCCC No: 72-7225

ISBN: 0 200 71874 6Printed in Great Britain by W & J Mackay Limited, Chatham

Abelard-Schuman Limited 158 Buckingham Palace Road London swland 24 Market Square Aylesbury Bucks

Contents

mEmptied Spaces 9

Night-time study 9

Old man in the park 10

Frostscene 11

Idealized 12After a portrait of Lenbach(1890s) 12

Road building 13

Not by choice 14

Remembered 15

The pool 15

n.y.c. 16

To the historical 17

Descent 17

To the death of Chiewitz 18

Mirrored 18

Empty chairs 19

For the fisherman at Voula 19

The room 20

Firing squad 20

Cycle 21

Hunters 22

Retreat 23

pi]Door partly opened 24

On the 7th 24

A bouquet of flowers 25

Waiting 25

A man at his desk 26

Perspectives 26

A glass bowl 27

Sofa 27

Still 28

Statue in the park 29

On the hanger 29

Old Roman road 30

Exactly as it was 31

A bowl of fruit 32

Autumn room 32

Again for Rosemarie, and for my sons, Raphael and Andreas

These poems have appeared in the following periodicals:

The Poetry Review; The Anglo Welsh Review; Workshop;Tribune; Enigma; Akros; Oasis; Second Aeon; Capella (Ire-land); Contrasts; Samphire; Forum (University of Houston,USA); Elizabeth (USA); The Smith (USA); The GallerySeries Poets (USA); The Galley Sail Review (USA); TheLittle Review (USA); Descant (USA); The WisconsinReview (USA); The Green River Review (USA); DeKalbLiterary Arts Review (USA); Poetry Venture (USA);Bitterroot (USA); The Indian P.E.N.; Ophir (South Africa);Other Voices (Canada); Envoi; Platform; Headland; Scrip;The Informer; Orbis; The Florida Quarterly (USA); TheFree Lance (USA); Ghostdance (USA); All in; Poetry andAudience; Ore; Northeast (USA); Zahir (USA); Viewpoints;Caryatid (USA); Gong; Open Places (USA); Gaga.

[I] EMPTIED SPACES

The candle's spent,It was fleshHe meant to say,But the words burnedStill, left him aRoom of emptied

spaces.

NIGHT-TIME STUDYfor my son, Raphael

The stars went out,Each of a single in-stance, prepared

That night to beIndefinably still: theFeel of touch, theSense of the realFingers on cloth 5 stars

went out,Each of a single in-

stance.

OLD MAN IN THE PARK

An old man sat where he was,wooden-framed

In the fountained park,His thought the sameAs the things about him:

The barely coloured greenof grass

Brought to mind, reminded,The emptied pond,Swans that gathered their wings

there once,The sun florescent gold, bold

emblazoned sun.

The old man sat where he was,wooden-framed

In the fountained park.

10

FROSTSCENE

In this stillnessOne expects the eye to move.

So much here is hard and cold,Wrought/untold between

us.

If we could touchThat this silver-silence could thaw,Straight out to the tips of ourFingers, that this branchCould bear its spring of sap,Unexpected, and liquid in

intent.

If we could speakThat our words could breakAs flower from stone declared,That quickened senseImpulsed in light . . .

But in this stillnessOne expects the eye to move.

So much here is hard and cold,Wrought/untold between

us.

11

IDEALIZED

Transfig-urations of thought,

idealized

That probable af-ternoon

Lighted with sound:

Your feet my plea-sure

Performed in tact andmeasure —

You smiled,Peripheral to the

sense.

AFTER A PORTRAIT OF LENBACH(1890s)

You stoodAnd the world stood stillwhere you were.

And your dress encompassedthat space

well-knowing each andevery care

It had traced right downto that

Same selected momentWhere you stood in a world that wasn't

anymoreLooking out, looking out

perpetually silent.

12

ROAD BUILDING

They cut a road out of thatlandscape,

Planned and contrived to con-nect two places

On the map which they hadnever seen.

They came with their tools,With their rough-handed workers,With their skills, with their plansAnd surveyors and at just theRight time of year.

They chose the curves and angles,They exposed that soft soil

to their wants,They laid flat that land,Poured burning tar on a readied

surfaceAnd let it dry down deep.And they curved those sides awayProportioned to the proper

slopes

And then they took their toolsAnd their rough-handed workersAnd their skills and their plansAnd surveyors, packed up and

went home.

13

NOT BY CHOICE

They found themselves at the same placeNot by choice but by chanceEach had decided to come forSome other reason of his own andThat place wasn't finalEither as a destination butMore like a point of debarcation asRivers that run together to aCommon source and then feed out in-

to the same sea

They came, each separately,Each with his own thoughts in hand,Underway. It was like changingTrains at a common platformWaiting at the same timeFor the same thingAnd yet only for themselves -

But that train didn't come,The rivers failed toRun together and they foundThemselves there at that samePlace, not by choice butBy chance each had decided toCome for some other reason

of his own.

14

REMEMBERED

Time is falling,Let it step into the past

brieflyAnd leave no markAs words scarcely brought to

mind —

I think of you so,Of the lightness of fallen

snowThat leaves no markExcept when winds (trans-

parent) wake.

THE POOL

Look down into thatwatered place,

The light's gone out ofyour transient face,

Leaves shadows thereinstead 5 •

That pool's bare,Cracked at the edge,Thoughts you gathered thereWill blow and breakAnd end for winter's

sake 5

Look down thereAt what you've found out

of yourself.

15

n.y.c.

Perhaps these stones have spoken(and their voice conceals

the want of light),

Or glimmering shadows per-petuate here

A certain sense of desire(in the twilight of

laughter when birds ex-hibit their skills) —

Imagined wings of flightAwaken not that real sense for

light;

Perhaps these stones have spoken(i placed my fingers to

feel the want offlesh)

And their words passed inme

The coolness of anotherafternoon.

16

TO THE HISTORICAL

Imperfectly known,Abandoned in time to touch

and stone

This sanctity of fact fin-alized, idealized

The tentative act itselfImperfectly declaredAs the fictions of waste:

Flesh, blood and bone,And the fictions of time:Touch and stone.

DESCENT

Those steps leddown,

Casements (enclo-sures)

Of equalled soundConsecutively apparent

We came to theriver

(river of dreams),

Though your hand ceasedto touch

(river of lights).

17

TO THE DEATH OF CHIEWITZ

Death has a separate room,A single door that leads

inAnd light at the

window's edge

A glass cleaned dry,Sheets propped high and the

smell of flowers;

It has it allThat room it calls its

own

And the flesh that wearsaway there, un-observed.

MIRRORED

I looked to your face,It reflected mine;

You smiled, I was cold;

Your voice tremoured -No, it was the leaves;

And when I pressed your hand,The pulse stilled.

18

EMPTY CHAIRS

They stood in their ownseparate place

Gathering sounds they wound a-round themselves as

Carefully as cloth's matterof taste

Concentric/preconceived

eyesThat peered from under

cover outPreconvicted to stone

They stood in their ownseparate silence

Chilled by the fires,Rubbing their handsAnd renewing the cold of their

stiff and back-boned

chairs.

FOR THE FISHERMAN AT VOULA

Irreconcilable stood thenight,

It's armour of stars —

Light fires of the vaul-ted wind,

Begin, but beware

You have raised a fishfrom my heart,

That cold moon watching

through its mountainof glass.

19

THE ROOM

The room prepared,His steps neared against mar-

ble stone,

Left a cold presenceThat wasn't his,But came with him, in-

cidentally 5

The door was high,Beyond reach as he passed

byA shadow became $

He stood alone,Columns of marble stoneMarked off to the

place where he stood.

FIRING SQUAD

They stood them up asTabled chairs turnedOver to be shot

at

Inside/out suspended toThe vacant airs of pro-bability framed with-out care of more orless than hap-pened there

Tabled chairs turnedOver to be

shotat.

20

CYCLE

They stood him in a roomAnd told him to stay there.

At first his hands were warm,But he could feel their heat de-

cline.

He stood as high as he couldThat room was stillFour cornered, walled and

made of wood.

He sat at the centre ofThings that he thought.

And then he began to walk,side to side,

Increasing the step be-tween.

He stood straight again asA tree stripped of its sound in

the autumn rain.

And he began to dream,Crouched and crumbled in

shadow.

And they came at last tocarry him off.

21

HUNTERS

Through the wood,Through the porous-chained

darknessBreak-combed pines of

shining stillnessFabled high, foot naked-

marked

Scent, as scent theycome

shadowscornered-turned

COMMANDCalling that light forth

Through the woodAnd at a stepAnd at that stance

fired

Finger- pressed steelfired

To the veinsAnd at that still-moment

light.

22

RETREAT

You wouldn't have known whereThey were going, backwards,

retreating

If it weren't for the sun in thewestwards sinking toThat stillness those flags

became

And their faces cleansed withdust, protective now —

They didn't know either andWeren't going to ask,But simply came as they had

gone

One after the other,Keeping time to what no one

knew,A music perhaps, long since

forgotten

They were retreatingAs they had from the first,But from what they weren't

certainNor why, nor when, nor where

But simply cameAs they had gone, one be-

hind the other,Keeping time to what no-

body knew.

25

[II] DOOR PARTLY OPENED

You let the lightin,

Angled-off,

Your hands closed as aShadow hanging there

You let the lightin

As far as your facecould allow.

ON THE 7th

It was on the 7ththat she died,

I remember dates exactlysince then,

She closed her readiedeyes

To the dead of thatwinter

As shadesThat should be drawn a-

round her yet,Tentatively uncertain,Broken at the sides

A circle we chose toframe her there.

24

A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS

The fundamental truth,perhaps, was,

That you held strange thoughtsin your hands,

But the flesh,Your own, was warm, the

blood receded

Though these fingers wouldurge their way

Prompted by an unfamiliarsense

To the flower itself -

But they were many,That light as if blown byThe suddenness of your

thoughts.

WAITING

I've sat by the fire nowThese six days andWaited — I'm not sure

For what 5 once(somehow distinct) IThought I knew

As leaves blew in theWind and firesRaised their flame;

But I've forgotten nowWhat it was theseSix days I've waited

for, just sitting andThinking about

nothing.

25

A MAN AT HIS DESK

It was night,The dark drawn down andHe grew accustomed to

himselfIn contrast: less dark,

less severe j

The cylinder lamp,Its ample string,Desk of grained/surfaced

woodBecame understood as

objects

As he to himself,Of which he was pleased

and certain.

PERSPECTIVES

It was too finished tobe true,

That fibre set to asingle mark

You had been told tobelieve -

Truth behaves less justly,To the eye at least

Perspectives changeBut for the time and to

the moment

It was too finished tobe true,

But too fine to be leftconcealed.

26

A GLASS BOWL

Spoken ofglass, words re-flect the

Ordered sound,Placed on the ped-

estal,

Turned round,That form appreciably

diminished —

touch is less thansound.

SOFA

When you sat there,Upon that silken cover at

the farthest edge,

Your dress drawn out asLong as could be re-

membered,

Consciously concealing thatshyness of yours,

We came to think of itas old

And softer than itreally was 5

But now that you've gone,We've redressed the

surfaceTo provide another ap-

pearance

And we don't think ofit at all,

Though it sometimeswatches us.

27

STILL

Night hasClosed its curtains,There's a still in theHouse that won't stay-In place. I wake.

I cross theSounds of my steps,But the silence re-

turns.

I open the windowThe moon can he seen,Almost touched ifI think it clear enough

The dark becomes ap-parent but theStill is, is stillEven in this light

I close myself behind,Recross the steps toMy room, open andClose the door,Consider myself in sheets

and sleep

But the night is wakeAnd the moon a hollow

discThe windows keep looking

outAs silence thinks.

28

STATUE IN THE PARK

This visible sun compoun-ded of silence

As thought placed and pro-vided for

(obscured in stone)

He found himself prophe-tically alone

(the man and the mir-ror)

Suspended in time uponits horse.

ON THE HANGER

You left your clothes, outon the hanger

Prim and cleanPretty and closed

I could have thought ofyou without them

If you hadn't posedquite that way

for me

At least in the morning lightHanging yourself outWithout apparentCause so pretty and clean

And each of those but-tons clipped to

my fingers.

29

OLD ROMAN ROAD

There were a few markings left.They ran through a fieldPlanted with corn andInto a wood at the other side,Out. They didn't disturb.They kept to their ownWays as if they were usefulStill and a drawn carriageWould soon come runningThrough. The corn concealed theirWants and the wood closedThem in from observation,But they remainedAs an organ with discontinuedUse, directing traffic in

two directions.

30

EXACTLY AS IT WAS

There was no need to lookagain, everything couldBe remembered now,Exactly as it was, where

You stood,A bit off to the right,Uncertain of yourself,

The table set,Reflected glass that wan-

ted warmth,

And we should ease our-selves

(somewhat further per-haps) into those

Cushions and smile, almostout loud;

And when we talkedThat room seemed further a-

way,

All that light and glassThat reflected nothing

of ourselves.

51

A BOWL OF FRUIT

It was placedNot quite to the centre,It was alive as colourTo be turned butPartly upwardsConcealing shapes and the

shadows below.It was a thing to be

touched,Accentuated from asFingers creased to that

glass of surface.It was placedNot quite to the centreTo be perfect, to focus onesThoughts, but alive asColour extended slightly,

upwards.

AUTUMN ROOMfor my mother

We are used to theFlowers there,

That room composed to theShades of your hair

And colours your dressMade there as you

Moved about, con-sidering, preparing;

Used too to the lightson the wall,

Leaves falling,That lateness of scent

When smoke tellsAnd winds relent their force

That room as silent still asFlowers faded there.

32