John Ashbery: “The Skaters”

II-F

	As when
	through darkness and mist
	the pole-bringer
	am convinced that                                 demandingly watches
	I thinkXXXXX these things are of some importance.

	Firstly, it is a preparing to go outward
	Of no planet limiting the enjoyment
	Of motion--hips free of embarrassment etc.

	The figure 8 is a perfect symbol
	Of the freedom to be gained in this kind of activity
	The perspective lines of the barn are another and different kind of example
	(Viz."Rigg's Farm, near Aysgarth, Wensleydale", or the "Sketch at Norton")
	In which we escape ourselves--putrefying mass of prevarications etc.--
	In remaining close to the limitations imposed.

	Another example is this separate dying
	Still keeping in mind the coachmen, servant girls, duchesses, etc. (cf. Jeremy Taylor)
	Falling away, rhythm of too-wet snow, but parallel
	With the kind of rhythm substituting for "meaning."

	Looked at from this angle the problem of death and survival
	Ages slightly. For the solutions are millionfold, like waves of wild geese returning
	Scarcely we know where to turn to avoid suffering, I mean {in} spring
	There are so many places.
	As a man will leave his wife

	The question of separation--"corps et biens"--is rapidly answered
	By movement, parallel, unwinding movement, in the nicest sense.
	It is the balance between strings and winds, between winds and percussion, that provides the overture.

So, coachman-servile, or scullion-slatternly, but each place is taken.

	The lines that draw nearer together are said to "vanish."
	The point where they meet is their vanishing point.

* * *

	Parallel lines, as they recede, vanish to a point.
	Horizontal, receding lines, if they are below the level of the eyes, appear to rise.
	Horizontal, receding lines, if they are above the level of the eyes, appear to descend

Spaces, as they recede, appear to become smaller.

	But another, more urgent question imposes itesleXXXXXX itself--that of poverty.
	How to excuse it to oneself? The wetness and coldness? Dirt and grime?
	Uncomfortable, unsuitablemXlodgings, with a depressing view?
	The peeled geranium flowering in a rusted tomato can,
	Framed in a sickly ray of sunlight, a tragic chromo?

	A broken mirror nailed up over a chipped enamel basin, whose turgid waters
	Reflect the fly-specked calendar--with ecstatic Dutch girl clasping tulips--
	On the far wall. Hanging from one nail, an hoXXld old velvet hat with a tattered bit of veiling--last remnant of former finery.
	The bed well-made. The whole place scrupulously made clean, but cold and damp.

All this, wedged into a pyramidal ray of light, is my own invention.