You know how to call me
although such a noise now
would only confuse the air
Neither of us can forget
the steps we danced
the words you stretched
to call me out of dust
Yes I long for you
not just as a leaf for weather
or vase for hands
but with a narrow human longing
that makes a man refuse
any fields but his own
I wait for you at an
unexpected place in your journey
like the rusted key
or the feather you do not pick up
until the way back
after it is clear
the remote and painful destination
changed nothing in your life
THE PROJECT
Evidently they need a lot of blood for these tests. I let them take all they wanted. The hospital was cool and its atmosphere of order encouraged me to persist in my own projects.
I always wanted to set fire to your houses. I’ve been in them. Through the front doors and the back. I’d like to see them burn slowly so I could visit many and peek in the falling windows. I’d like to see what happens to those white carpets you pretended to be so careless about. I’d like to see a white telephone melting.
We don’t want to trap too many inside because the streets have got to be packed with your poor bodies screaming back and forth. I’ll be comforting. Oh dear, pyjama flannel seared right on to the flesh. Let me pull it off.
It seems to me they took too much blood. Probably selling it on the side. The little man’s white frock was smeared with blood. Little men like that keep company with blood. See them in abatoirs and assisting in human experiments.
– When did you last expose yourself?
– Sunday morning for a big crowd in the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth.
– Funny. You know what I mean.
– Expose myself to what?
– A woman.
– Ah.
I narrowed my eyes and whispered in his yellow ear.
– You better bring her in too.
– And it’s still free?
Of course it was still free. Not counting the extra blood they stole. Prevent my disease from capturing the entire city. Help this man. Give him all possible Judeo-Christian help.
Fire would be best. I admit that. Tie firebrands between the foxes and chase them through your little gardens. A rosy sky would improve the view from anywhere. It would be a mercy. Oh, to see the roofs devoured and the beautiful old level of land rising again.
The factory where I work isn’t far from the hospital. Same architect as a matter of fact and the similarities don’t end there It’s easier to get away with lying down in the hospital. However we have our comforts in the factory.
The foreman winked at me when I went back to my machine He loved his abundant nature. Me new at the job and he’d actually given me time off. I really enjoy the generosity of slaves. He came over to inspect my work.
– But this won’t do at all.
– No?
– The union said you were an experienced operator.
– I am. I am.
– This is no seam.
– Now that you mention it.
– Look here.
He took a fresh trouser and pushed in beside me on the bench He was anxious to demonstrate the only skill he owned. He arranged the pieces under the needle. When he was halfway down the leg and doing very nicely I brought my foot down on the pedal beside his. The unexpected acceleration sucked his fingers under the needle.
Another comfort is the Stock Room.
It is large and dark and filled with bundles and rolls of material.
– But shouldn’t you be working?
– No, Mary, I shouldn’t.
– Won’t Sam miss you?
– You see he’s in the hospital. Accident.
Mary runs the Cafeteria and the Boss exposes himself to her regularly. This guarantees her the concession.
I feel the disease raging in my blood. I expect my saliva to be discoloured.
– Yes, Mary, real cashmere. Three hundred dollar suits.
The Boss has a wife to whom he must expose himself every once in a while. She has her milkmen. The city is orderly. There are white bottles standing in front of a million doors. And there are Conventions. Multitudes of bosses sharing the pleasures of exposure.
I shall go mad. They’ll find me at the top of Mount Royal impersonating Genghis Khan. Seized with laughter and pus.
– Very soft, Mary. That’s what they pay for.
Fire would be best. Flames. Bright windows. Two cars exploding in each garage. But could I ever manage it. This way is slower. More heroic in a way. Less dramatic of course. But I have an imagination.
HYDRA 1963
The stony path coiled around me
and bound me to the night.
A boat hunted the edge of the sea
under a hissing light.
Something soft involved a net
and bled around a spear.
The blunt death, the cumulus jet –
I spoke to you, I thought you near!
Or was the night so black
that something died alone?
A man with a glistening back
beat the food against a stone.
ALL THERE IS TO KNOW
ABOUT ADOLPH EICHMANN
EYES
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Medium
HAIR
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Medium
WEIGHT
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Medium
HEIGHT
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Medium
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
None
NUMBER OF FINGERS
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ten
NUMBER OF TOES
: . . . . . . .
