Victory

A poem by Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012)

 

Something spreading underground won’t speak to us

under skin won’t declare itself

not all life-forms want dialogue with the

machine-gods in their drama hogging down

the deep bush clear-cutting refugees

from ancient or transient villages into

our opportunistic fervor to search

crazily for a host a lifeboat

 

Suddenly instead of art we’re eyeing

organisms traced and stained on cathedral transparencies

cruel blues embroidered purples succinct yellows

a beautiful tumor

 

•

 

I guess you’re not alone I fear you’re alone

There’s, of course, poetry:

awful bridge rising over naked air: I first

took it as just a continuation of the road:

“a masterpiece of engineering

praised, etc.” then on the radio:

“incline too steep for ease of, etc.”

Drove it nonetheless because I had to

this being how— So this is how

I find you: alive and more

 

•

 

As if (how many conditionals must we suffer?)

I’m driving to your side

—an intimate collusion—

packed in the trunk my bag of foils for fencing with pain

glasses of varying spectrum for sun or fog or sun-struck

rain or bitterest night my sack of hidden

poetries, old glue shredding from their spines

 

my time exposure of the Leonids

over Joshua Tree

 

As if we’re going to win this O because

 

•

 

If you have a sister I am not she

nor your mother nor you my daughter

nor are we lovers or any kind of couple

except in the intensive care

of poetry and

death’s master plan architecture-in-progress

draft elevations of a black-and-white mosaic dome

the master left on your doorstep

with a white card in black calligraphy:

Make what you will of this

As if leaving purple roses

 

•

 

If (how many conditionals must we suffer?)

I tell you a letter from the master

is lying on my own doorstep

glued there with leaves and rain

and I haven’t bent to it yet

if I tell you I surmise

he writes differently to me:

 

Do as you will, you have had your life

many have not

 

signing it in his olden script:

 

Meister aus Deutschland

 

•

 

In coldest Europe end of that war

frozen domes iron railings frozen stoves lit in the

streets

memory banks of cold

 

the Nike of Samothrace

on a staircase wings in blazing

backdraft said to me

: : to everyone she met

Displaced, amputated never discount me

 

Victory

indented in disaster striding

at the head of stairs

 

for Tory Dent

 

 

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Poems in English

 

• The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Moon is a Painter by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Merciful Hand by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Master of the Dance by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Lion by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Light o’ the Moon by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Leaden-Eyed by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The King of Yellow Butterflies by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Jingo and the Minstrel by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Illinois Village by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Hope of the Resurrection by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Hearth Eternal by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Haughty Snail-King by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Ghosts of the Buffaloes by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Gamblers by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Flower of Mending by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Flower-Fed Buffaloes by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Fairy Bridal-Hymn by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay
• The Empty Boats by Vachel Lindsay by Nicholas Vachel Lindsay

 

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