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Tomorrow Ramas
& the moon will
come to full ,
Tonite at 9:25
she had just come over the mountain . a few
light clouds pass quickly over her
the shadow along the bottom
brilliant
between 2 planets
one
golden,
one red
The stone steps down to town washed
in her light, the
ribbon of road curving out far below, white
white .
A red cat darts by on the steps, light
cloud over the sea, sea
patched with shadows
& sewn with a glitter of moon
At the last minute
I will not pass back of the church
where there is a cross in stone,
tho it is not tonite that the moon is full
Meaning
to avoid it by the middle stair
I fart all the way down the steps, absent
mindedly
& find myself directly in front of it . I
have forgotten how the town is built
under the pale brightness of moon . Two
women come by in black veils
both hands held palm upward
carrying rosaries, probably
I see that their hands are empty. The
moon does not reach into this street
I offer goodnite
& take two back
& hurry on
Both trucks have arrived
One can tell by the empty baskets piled by the wall
means the cigarettes have come in, the first in a week
one is jubilant to have calculated the hour . The
men in the cafe
which is grocery and tobacco-store both, sit
and smoke over their conacs
and show no undue emotion.
I give one goodnite and get twenty
Climbing again
more slowly
enjoying the smoke, the
moon is everywhere;
over a terrace of fruit trees first
then over the pines higher up, then
over houses on the first transversal
As I turn the last terrace to the house, she sits,
over a great cactus clump
light clouds, a few stars
A yellow cat darts by on the steps
In the kitchen my wife
has left me a small fire
The power plant has gone off for the night
I have some candles to write by
I forget what the argument was
about . still
goofy with moonlight I
pick up pen and write
S L U T O F A P O E T
and
F O O L and
flower-crowned, season-driven, white samovar of corruption
from which sweetness
& also
fuck her!
I forget what the argument was about . Carefully
I feed the coals some dried sticks, blaze warms my hands & feet
the
bamboo blowpipe is yellow . the hot coals are red
And outside
the moon sits over the cactus clump
In an hour the day will be Ramas
and the moon full .
the inversion .
[1957/1965]
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