Bin Ramke

 

 

Cloud (cont.)

Living in Weather

Explicit at the Bedside

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cloud (Cont.)

 

 

I asked my brother is it possible

to stand on a cloud, he said no. I said,

if we flew in an airplane into a cloud,

and I could open the window, could I

take a piece of the cloud,

maybe put it in my pocket? He said,

your pocket would get wet,

you would having nothing but a wet

spot on your shirt

when the plane landed.

 

I did maybe about that same time

consider keeping snow in the freezer.

Snow was a part of a cloud fallen, as was rain,

as was a wet shirt forgotten on the line

as a thunderstorm performed.

Though I had not then seen snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living in Weather

 

 

It is an economy unfolding

of leaf of leaves into trees leaving of winter

and agonies of spring; fold and unfold

 

reading and reading leaves leaves

the mind implicated in its body, world:

it thinks, wild the epigraphy:

 

they shall beat their coins into cookware

 

pennies flattened serve roof repair

 

otherwise wilderness catches calligraphy

 

snares a bitter mind among mountains.

The loud clouds come falling

from air from the mountains.

 

Falling air and fair weathers

wash us of our sins any season.

Here how it happens—a measure:

 

the beetle imago crawling two

dots on its back shiny as dew

under the murderous eye of sun

I of sunlight sizzling the morning as

 

as and we wait again a health. For health.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Explicit at the Bedside

 

 

               1

 

To maneuver calamity calmly

a boat moored to the window continues

(yet she did suffer, not dream, in her bed

was cared for but yet did die)

 

another escape—a walk through a maze not

thinking it a maze at the time at the time

a necessary range of baffles—no

knowing why until a final turn and a tall

wall with a tall door and some voice or

writing named a country and opened a door

 

to severe landscape unpopular place

Ò...a substance growing on hills in the East, candied

by the sun, and of diverse coloursÓ (Christopher Smart)

(I had wishes numbering three I had

none beyond three childlike

 

as a well-known dilemma I lost count

near two, counting heavily against

mourners, watchers at death beds,

 

 

               2

 

those who live among weathers the clouds

loudly proclaim familiar decline), a line

or border breathing of boundaries away new

 

engagements, engorgement, air and vapors;

who wouldnÕt wish better such is/as earth inherited

full already when we took possession air

and water and rock ready-made and which

was it brought me to this bedside beside

counting of breaths counting down counting on

but this was my dream of water at the window

sill the slightest wave would wash over into

my room my room the end of a maze of rooms

 

a new skill developed a various hope a

discovered paper in a wallet oneÕs own

numbers unreadable possibly telephone

possibly proof of a small theorem overlooked

by all who came before, a conjecture turned

real, readable as if I had been given those

 

 

               3

 

wishes wisely held closely passed on.

Whether the butterfly is happier than the

caterpillar because it is more beautiful, whether

the child is happier than the mother because

closer to precedent death (not subsequent),

whether if I spoke to her in that manner

would she hear? She did not answer.

Care is a bondage, bandage? bond

ÒThe air was tiny./ The air would not do.Ó (Anne Sexton)

 

A narrow strip of cloud to clot the sunlight

cloud the afternoon, protect the one who suffers.

Lie next to her

in her sickbed careless. A kind of care

is this given modernly, first the pillow

then the body cools. ÒHere endsÓ or

abbreviation of explicitus est liber, the small

scroll unrolled no distinction between

folding and rolling, misfolded, (prion)

Clean sheets neatly stacked on the bed.

When I returned.

 

 

                              for Melba Guidry Ramke, 1917-2006