11:AM – 3 July 80- StormFall Farm
Toss’s father Sutton’s third wife Val died suddenly yesterday morning at 2:30 AM. T. was on the phone with his father about 11 PM when Sutton suddenly said – “there’s something wrong with Val.” And dropped the phone. When he came back on he said they were calling Rescue. Toss and I jumped into the car and drove up arriving at the hospital where they said, “She expired.” Like a library card! Couldn’t understand at first. She was 46! Back at Sutton’s house he was cold and grey still in a state of shock; “They couldn’t start her heart.” No one knew she had anything wrong with her heart! I don’t know who suggested birth control pills as the culprit - or smoking? She had decided to break her diet for a dish of ice cream and that was it. T Is with his father, I should be washing my hair; instead I write a poem I can’t share but like better than anything since Alyssum. At this rate I’ll have a vol in 20 yrs! I woke to die From the darkness Into which we’re poured I woke; To die; like Gravebait screamed About in dreams; Soul’s sheath scorned Me, threw me Off Strangling in the cough The lava ran from groin to brain My very bones were rearranged. On my heart’s arc They carve their names The clones enraged By Passion’s claim; Tunneling up My sinews unashamed. Scars remain For philosophical discussion: Life? Or simulacrum? For still I live; condition unknown Owed not to chemistry; Nor to moan. Whose corpse is this? Am I not she? Her grimace Not a bit like me. In darkness see the Mirror people move Left to right And speak their love. But why exchange My glitter for their grief? Assent; Ascend; My mercury’s released. Sutton’s Place Everybody crying, Sutton on the phone with his sister Cressida, Granma’s plane just landing, Dom will be here within the hour. Minister came over to lead prayer service –did quite well –we discussed immortality & warmed to each other – I was stupid enough to say I’d written a poem – he said I could read it at the service Uh oh. Better come up with something. 4pm 4 July 80 I most mind the separation from Toss; our “togetherness” and “affront” to his father’s loss. But it gives me more time for writing. I come up with this: She Died Young The whirlwind starts Without me – I am sucked I am scuttled like a leaf. I loose your hands My words come fire the Blood bursts forth Push push push Into that darkness From which we all were poured comes What? What Fierce sonnets? What unicorn, what Madrigal? God commands us push and Push and Then relax. In the torpor the Bees bud into butterflies The trees devour Their own roots. My lips Become ceremonies My hips Are burial grounds. We push and Silence rushes in to bear me up Collapse my burdens in A house of cards I soar; I flirt My strength is limitless My life my soul An infinite Caress Today was the worst day – no, yesterday was pretty bad too. Long ordeal of preparing food and sitting around waiting for somebody to eat it. Awful. Toss keeps trying to take away jobs his poor father really wants to do – everyone wants the man to sit there stunned and feel his loss. Subtle struggle for power between Lew’s brother Avery & Toss. Toss wants to do everything and he’s physically angry with other people’s efforts; locking his jaw, snapping his head and waving his fists. This makes ME angry! Current thinking is its “good” to let your anger out but since anger is infectious this is a stupid idea. I’m sure Toss is angry because he was raised by a really angry woman. Reminds me of my father’s anger – my mother’s response was to drift away, humming. It’s impossible to love a really angry person – anger is a rejection. Granma doesn’t help – tries to goad people into activities; sorting, cleaning fussing projects; busywork. Really annoying. We contemplatives get short shrift around her.
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Alysse Aallyn
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