Paul Blackburn

Spring Thing

                                             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
                                                         between 2 planets
                                                         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

to avoid it by the middle stair
I fart all the way down the steps, absent
& 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
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
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 .