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i want
to forever find
Ithica
here,
by the salt immortal sea
i lay down
spear and sword
scabbard and goldveined
sheild…..
the days of faithful wives
are gone
forever……I find…..
the men of winter hold up the sky
I find…….
the men of winter
hold the sway
among
the world……..today
black angels gather
where i dig
this hole and
pour
libations of honeyed wine
my men stand about
sailors all, tattoed,…… frightened,
staining
the air,
wondering……….what……..
what its all about, this insane
ritual, this diseased journey….
whats the point, leave it lets
go, we're late
dig a hole later
in the month, lets go!
into the mouth of the hot earth
late
as it is,please …….hurry……… hurry
Ulysses
Please!…
……………….Ulysses.
am I,
…………standing
still
barely standing……….still
among,these………. dusky whisperings
of dull eyed interrogative men?
voices,like dry hands ,wringing out their necks
like nervous bankers,like frogs,leathery,red-eyed
with worry grown
old with worry,dim
this generation of cops and bankers!
Tadpoles!, uninvolved
of real estate agents, of insurance salesmen! disconnnected
i will not sail
with them again
i swear it, (underbreath)
(i swear it)
whats the point of talking
to Tiresias
nobody knows who he is any..more
(he's an old man)
he's an old man, tired, blind,fer christs sake
he's a stiff
with a voice like buttery wings
rubbing together,
an afterimage
(wheres the first,the identical first?)
of himself
he follows double
then follows after
he's dead…….long dead……
i pour out
clear water and white threaded
barley
into the stubborn earthen mouth & will not
listen
i am obstinate, in my pride
will not listen
I will put an arrow
thru the neck
of anyone,
who resists iron will,taught me that
feather taught to skin to teach
watching the iridescent blood
flow out thru the pipe of nostrils
hear the hiss of the air &
the radiant white eyes
shoot back
& i will
pour the black blood of wooley black- eyed ewe
gazing towards the violet sea,gazing
towards Ithaca!
I swear……
stone-pebbly Ithaca…….
Hillfragrant land of ……
how are we to return now to our native soil?
They cry out!
they cry, must we visit pale faced Persephone
that bitch…shes a bitch
they ask, they complain, and push each other
out…of the way…
a gathering of shades to return the call, mediocre
feeble,sightless old age, seeing the exhausted
dead, here in the Hall of Death
i ask…look! Look!…is she there?
look
long distant memory further than the red eyed
sun,afflict me,,,birds…
parched with thirst unravelled with time
within sight/…
Look!
am i to be a shade as well? Tell me Circe! Well?
Look! Look!
transformer of men,liar,deceiver
worshiper of the phallic god
witch & daughter of a god
have i
…………….given up the ghost for this?
Am I dead too?
Where are my men now
and doe eyed Penelope what is to be done
about her?
we're not Orpheus they moan softly,
(they make me laugh..)
we dont play instruments!
we havent the talent, really
(cant see beyond this dark wall...)
we just want to go home to our soft beds okay?
to our wives and daughters, to our strong sinewed
boys, to our mothers,and grandfathers..to our
lapdogs, they moan
far and away, our doors..our steps..away
from this yellowed isle where the land boils
lard and honey,they murmer…
and the stench of death is everywhere now…
they cry
ulysses! listen to us, we're men not gods
we're not like you
we just want to be confortable in our old age
have pension plans
and die in our sleep,lets all just go home,okay?
Lets just forget this part!
I wont listen to their weak kneed murmers
and stuff my ears with wax
Will I perhaps find?Ithica?
…………………….How can…………….. I find?
I ask? Why dare?
It's all movie scores and bad t.v.toxic newspapers anyway
and processed food, journeys performed
on cellophane,
skies, it preprogrammed
preprogrammed,they say
fights! Concerts! Dilemmas!
Witches! Bitches! For What
For what? For Greece? For Helena?
for that bitchwitch of Troy?
For what???
Should we die?
For the Gods of Macdonalds?
what does it have to do with us?
We're men not gods!
(and so many men slain, young youths
in their prime, strong of limb
full of Arete, full of spunk
slain lost and for what?
for her?)
for Her.
it's all tourism, not adventure,
wrapped in plastic,
in plastic sounds &
sealed bubbled lives
(but the blood was real),
& unemployment lines, microchips,computors to find
cablelines, movies, knives, chips, lice, hand lotion
to find
toothpaste & headbrushes & advertisements
to find
headrests &
critical conditionings of the mind
to find
(destruction of the hippocampus, corrosion
of the anterior hypothalamus and not the liver
and thirst and hunger
and cold, awful cold, and strange beds forever
to find …………………..Ithica
& a hard going we shall have of it
shootings in the face and hands, cops, hospitals, police
double sword and scabbard wounds
knicks in the nut and wallets lifted
in broad daylight
in
airplanes, bowling, aluminum boats,
lethal
street drugs cut with strychinine &
stomach aches and farts and cheap cons
hockey- sports, nonsense, nonsense, the modern
cities of the world, and for what!?
Ulysses? for what? ……………..Where is Ithica?
Now
in my hands i grab the golden sail of surf, tear at
& wind-ripped sea, crack open the glass-eyed skies
steer and look towards
away from
an old sky
look towards the black moored ship
and point
to the pole
perplexed to the spleen
pole perplexed, I point
towards the fish-empty sea
and taste
salt-teared relief, empty, vacuous
who am i? i ask there…who are you…?
for what do you cry………….. Ulysses?
(as if i had anything to do with starting this war)
as if i were responsible for their dilemma
for this, this gathering of shades
these are the words
and the fragment-
s of word
s……………sssssssssss
why run away from the blowing, blazing sun
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
spearward towards the western lands?
leaving behind mother, father, wife and child
oh..and olive grooves, thick-footed oak
i see…oh
…… no eagles on the trunk of this olive tree here
see no augurs, see no perfection
anywhere, on this isle……
just frightened rat like men, donkey men
ape men, fish men and pig men
Isee
nothing
no signs, no augurs,
my eyes grown dim like Tiresias,
onlyworse
i need glasses…now
how am
i to
……………………………return to Ithaca
to the sweet-smelling
land, how return to the perfumed lands?
when shall I master the ways of men
of the sea ways & land ways
and ……. ………………………….find
to search the earth-sorrounding seas become
a wayfinder, bone dry, mud-shuddering.
teeth
chattering
word spouting, actionless, lazy, demure, spiteful men
a wall of darkness …
sorrounds them forever
"get away!" i shout "from me.."
they are
full of the venom of the long days journey
returning want
…………………………………….to find Ithaca
"they are drunk, "let me concentrate" i shout
let me…concentrate…
unweave Circe's spell that has transformed me
tho i drank of the sacred herb, though i
found out
her flawless bed and we joined man and god …to find
is it possible that the swinish
spell circles me yet?
still?
that i don't
understand that
coarse pig hair grows from my head to foot
from head and face and hand forever
to brand me, one of you?
I Ulysses
am not one of you. Oh…
you ate her food, you drank her wine, ate
lobster and champagne and freshly slaughtered game
you lay with her maidservants and now
you want me to guide you to Ithica?
i am
addicted to this spot
unable to return to the starting point
can't you see i am unable to ….. find Ithica
To Ithaca
……………..,forever, to find,
quick
let me look in the mirrored scabbard
is this me? Let me see
………………………………. Am i
the one they call ………………………..Ulysses?
clown-faced feeble, ….dentured…. old
are these white whiskers mine?
is that me? Is it me ………………….. forever?
should i sail today to the widehipped sea?
should we sail today?
"its too late!" they shout
"its too late",says the wind, the aeolian wind
too late gurgle the blood chocked hole
too late ………………………………….to find
…………………..Ithica…oh …Ithica
When are we going now, seamaster, when…?
The world is found… round not ..found & flat
How should we get home with no instruction?
With zero construction and zero body fat?
Whose whitecharged steely eye shall we use?
& by what power??
are we leaving to Ithica?
Ulysses? Are We leaving…
I Ulysses am not one of you!
They cry, weeping grown men, future shadows
Gathering
(Should i lead them to the river of oblivion? For i hate them)
We all want to go home someday …………………………………..to find
and that's all natural, all natural but
what is natural??? to find?
today, tomorrow, when?
when shall we go home?
Oh.
Ithica.
Home.
Nickmancuso
Re-write jan.1-2202
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