Silence s for Love Vox Human a Silence s for Love by David Cope Coming Home by David Cope Fragments from the Stars by David Cope In the Inmost Hour of the Soul Selectedpoemsof Marina Tsvetayeva Translatedby Nina Kossman The Promise Is by Kip Zegers On the Bridge by David Cope Quiet Lives by David Cope A Song Out of Harlem by Antar S.K Mberi Silence s for Love Poems by David Cope 1993-1997 Springe r Science+Busines s Media , LLC Dedication For Allen Calm Sea C/ear Shore Acknowledgments: Thanks to Shambala Sun, Napalm Health Spa, The Guild House Newsletter, Big Scream, The Cafe Review, Big Fish, The Wayne Literary Review, Long Shot, Big Hammer, The Ann Arbor Poetry Forum, The Brooklyn Review "Memory in Love" is an imitatio of Jack Kerouac's "He is your friend, let him dream," and incidentally utilizes a few of its phrasings; Chris Ide, for whom the poem was written, was dedicated to Jack's visionary wandering & spontaneity Copyright © 1993-1998 by David Cope AII rights of any nature whatsoever reserved Originally published by Humana Press in 1998 Cover design by Patricia F Cleary Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: Cope, David, 1948Silences for Love / by David Cope 120 p cm.-(Vox humana) ISBN 978-0-89603-631-4 ISBN 978-1-4612-1812-8 (eBook) DOI 10.1007/978-1-4612-1812-8 Title PS3553.06333S55 811'.54-DC21 1998 97-49975 CIP Contents TURNING Full Moon Over Whitefish Bay Coming Home murky night full of They return Devil's Den At the Holocaust memorial For Martin King 10 11 Variations on Summer Mountains A Testament 12 WORDS Old Man 15 Sarajevo Market Massacre 16 February 25, 1994 17 18 A Day in the Life Mother & Child 19 push off 20 22 Dear Jim For Morgan 23 Memory in Love 24 25 Not As You Were The Triumph of Love 26 The Lovers at Sunrise 28 CALAMUS For Antler 31 when the dove 32 July Dusk 33 Many Reunions 34 Fireworks over the Flatirons 35 A Vision 36 How must the meadows 37 38 From My Tent You, young boy 40 v BACK THRU THE VEIL The Mechanics Beyond My Garden Fence 43 Homeward Bound, Dreams of Uzi Alley 44 cutting basil 45 Back Thru the Veil (Friday in the Madhouse) 46 48 Today is your birthday New Life 49 Sitting 50 December 52 Ancient Rain Everyone gone 55 A Cold & Clear Day, February Ann Arbor Song 58 59 April Dawn 60 Waking 61 The Rhododendron 62 Silences for Love 63 American Song 64 56 Kitchitikipi Three Dreams On the Road 67 Sirens & flashing lights stop 68 In The Alley 69 July 70 Lunch Hour 71 The Mirror of Heaven 72 A Vision in Manistique 73 Thru Gary & Calumet to The Monet 74 Night & Dawn in Paradise 75 as bulldozers roar 76 Gerry Crane 77 The Long Silence 78 January Moon 80 vi harlequin & flowers among stars He took a long pull on the stout 83 Twenty Below 84 harlequin & flowers among stars 85 Two-Hearted River 86 88 Thru the curved glass 90 Alba: The Sailors Two Women Dream Together, 91 The Cranes 92 Carneades 93 The Detail 94 beyond the swiftly rising stream beyond the swiftly rising stream 97 The Job 98 Don't take my name, 99 ebullient 100 Call in & Talk, 101 leaving classes 102 all night 103 The Bridge 104 Last Chance to Finish This Year 106 the whirlwind Crowds're racing home tonight, 109 the hidden meadow 110 no time to feel 112 Deeper into the Mountain 113 Turning 114 Free Clothes 115 for allen 116 April 118 vii TURNING Full Moon Over Whitefish Bay ragged black clouds scud & break below haze & farflung net of stars thru which the Northern lights encode a dance: a distant freighter slices waves, making for the beacon's turning flash thru a graveyard where dead sailors sigh before the wavecut moonlit lines aging lovers turn on stairs, hold hands & dream as these endless waves crash where naked shamen pled & prayed & sailors shrieked among blackened waves come far for sleeping vision, waking dreamlights fade & flare in a cloud-hung stream The Bridge returning after sweat & harvest & sorrow remains the same: swinging his legs like a boy at the edge of the antique bridgethe pebble skipping over the rippling surface as fish below dream in stasis, the familiar current turning into the silent forest where al ready hunters scour low hills & marshes for matted grass, thin trails & rubbings of rutting bucksnot so far now from hordes of young women & men parading thru his life like sexual innuendoes, so sure at their age they've got it figured, their every gesture a panting thrustyet why not rise & dance? three hikers pass now in quick succession: 704 a young woman, eyes fixed straight ahead, marching woodenly, not answering his shy helloa man in his thirties pulled by his lusty terrier, the dog panti ng, tongue lolling as he trots & jerks before his master, who sings out his own lusty hello as he passes& an old woman with silver hair wrapped in her red & yellow & black shawl, humming to herself, hand raised & direct gaze quick recognitionhis companions on this bright & moody day which stretches out like a long deep breath thru clouds of leaves swept thru woods & fields flashing up into blue-white evening now where he stands as the trail winds & finally disappears: & now the looming night awash with its milky cape of stars, the worm asleep, in the rose, roots stretching beneath unfurling storms 105 last Chance to Finish This Year the bicycle racers lean into the curves, around & around their course passing courthouses & city buildings, the Calder stabile, passing the local Ital ian festival-clouds of sausage smoke, moshing crowds, accordions & singers in tremolo, bocce ball tournament, silent onlookers leaning as a red ball wanders down the green, winners howling & prancing around the losers-& still the racers turn & dash up the straightaways, lithe butts & legs & torsos in spandex pumping past cops & traffic lights & crowds leaning against barricades, swelling clouds above like fast-forward stop-action lights & shadowsthe night finally comes on, crowds dwindling as a cop yawns & the last of the racers rounds the last corner, the old man's tired legs straining to make one final effort, to end with his thin arm raised like a champion in his last race this year 106 the whirlwind Crowds're racing home tonight, acres of taillights flash in the gathering dark, slowed until stalled-drivers & passengers eye each other, lost to the common heart & touch trapped in raging metal, knotted up for the familiar smells of home, for steaming roast & potatoes with red cabbage or macaroni & hot dogs among the anchor chatter of starving millions & whole towns butcheredknotted up for that last appointment, its million dollar promise, for that open door where a lover stands, kiss to I ipsvast parade of stymied dreams where sacred groves of black pines may finally register as the great metallic snake winds downhill & around an endless bend to the long bridge where cop lights flash & tiny figures race to sweep up broken glass, the ambulance pulling away to an exit where far ahead already hospital orderlies arrange a bed to whisk the broken bodies to surgeryin the fierce & somber flash of early evening, clouds part to Venus winking low on the horizon where a kiss & sigh begin another turn in the endless round & visions float by, tumbling like generations blasting full-blown from their parents' aching skulls to greet another day & seek the whirlwind 709 the hidden meadow the long breathless climb thru meadows asplash in yellows blues & flaming reds around granite boulders shattered upthrust shanks thru aspen fir & ponderosa pine as shafts of sun flash across a spring trickling down among grasses swaying in early breezethe city below now awake, faraway roar, metallic shine of grinding traffic bullethead race to deadend routines in offices banks & restaurant chatter-but here the lovers wake & stretch together & wander from tent to su n rubbing eyes scratching butts as I pass unseen, upward to the hidden meadow's twisted pine aslant the "saddle" where in solitude's miles of jagged peaks cliffs empty trails the sun rises still & silence rings in these ears at last: 170 in this furious flowering, three ravens land & strut & eye me now, immaculate company in calm ache of mind & heart, the raging planet wheeling where even love roars in the void & every step's a ghost dance thru flames to find the stream & float away o moon above the white peaks now! the clouds flash away, the land below lies in its white silence where lovers turn to each other, the meadow now a dream 111 no time to feel my own death flashing past in roaring freight train blizzard winds, to see lovers friends my kids' eyes fast-forward life scenes passingall these cars ahead in ditch & overturn pile-ups cop lights spinning up & down the lanes, new arrivals fishtailing slamming brakes- & suddenly I'm in it, hit the brakes, slide sideways 50 mph past two cars out of control, their drivers' eyes wide & terrifiedI pass in unreal slow motion, turning, turning, hills & fields & faroff lake, farmhouse & barn half-glimpsed thru raging snowspin the wheel & miraculously come to dead stop, facing south: a woman stands knee-deep in snow, quaking hands wiping her eyes, her car overturned in the ditch, cops racing toward her rear view: others're bearing down on me, they too sliding out of controltime to move-hands shaking, tapedeck shine a light blues elegy filling my survivor's ears-get up to speed & breathe that sigh at last 112 Deeper into the Mountain The boy raced deeper into the cavern at the heart of the mountain, running toward the imagined springs, his dreams descending on him as he ran: the house on fire in the deep night, flames in which another boy shrieked, falling & blistering in searing heat, his face finally scorched black as the firemen frantically strove to reach himthe doors opened wide, mother & father racing out into cool night & the stars This dream faded as the stars became the angels of Job, & now the good old man appeared, his face ash-coveredElihu the resurrected burned boy stood over him, arms spread, pointing to the fleeting stars & invoking the whirlwind, howling & spinning full of eyes, & the running boy, who'd become Job, struggled in the raging wind out of his dream & into a long sleep As dawn came, bright yellow line in blackened storm-tossed sky, the sleeper rose entranced in visions & reached the springs, where he seemed to see far off an age passing in fire & flood, the whirlwind of his dream,the roaring voice a babel of gunfire, sorrows & denunciations he sat & stared into the clear greenblue water, doubtful, trapped in the marching images: guessing & questioning, as before, restless that the faces of these visions should hide faces beyond these faces, that beyond them all lay a waking silence where no face rose & the dream would be clear 713 Turning how long, how long you've been gone: wandering last night who'd I hear in the whipping grass & the ringing wind? what'd I see when the fu II moon slid behind that fat cloud? I must be talking to myselfwho's walking next to me on this beaten path? No one, no one-a shadow a toothless old man, one-eyed, with a patch, appears from behind dumpsters piled high: "wanderin' again, eh, sonny boy?" turningonly the wind, scraps flashing down the alley 114 Free Clothes a young woman, somber in her worn dress, dark eyes staring at the faces in the hall, runs her hands thru a small boy's hair: he fumbles at her side, arms about her thigh, shyly glancing into the eyes of the big man who brings the clothes within the dimly lit room, an old man, hands contorted with arthritis, fights his crutches, cigaret in his shaking hand, slumping at last into the couch between two fat aged women, who talk softly, thick arms encircling his bent shoulders: the morning's warm: they've made it thru another winter 775 for allen that summer in the mansion on the hill: you & Peter in spacious kitchen fretting over chicken soup, seaweed, Tibetan tea, the nightly readings-Chris Ide & I dashing thru halls & rooms upstairs in our underwear, chasing each other giggling rowdies rolling across beds or wandering in the basement perusing huge library, singing old Kerouacky Catullus Kit Smart & Shakespeare's sonnets aloud togetheryou upstairs all night answering mail yakking long distance scribbling surprised by visitors as I lay in the next room & watched the million stars fill the night over the flatirons, singing myself to sleepor that time in your apartment twelfth street I come to read in your Brooklyn seriesracing to work to class to plane Laguardia taxi-dash downtown in bright springtime exhausted-Steve showing videos you at wailing wall & old Reznikoff our shared love introduced by George Oppen, steely voiced compassion my reentry into New York-gefilte fish, Peter & the Wolf after everybody cleared out, you & I soft reunion, both drained in crazed worklives, both sleeping 20 hours, waking together Saturday evening going out bite to eat at Christine's: NY Times, cabbage soup, chocolate cake-a Danish family recognized you, sent their kid over for autograph, you yakking & drawing elaborate skull & stars & flowers personal greeting with final pen flourish for their bright eyesfriendly, welcoming the parents their first time in America- 116 or that summer where you'd injured thigh, lay naked on floor your apartment Boulder as young girl massaged pain spots, relaxed nerves & we sprawled around you, singing Campion & Dowland, Steve as director who gave us parts bass baritone tenor singing again & again crooning to find the shared voices in the dreampoets coming & going, staying a time, always singing, singing deep into the Elizabethan night as Boulder's sirens shrieked & traffic flashed beyond& in later years, both too busy, yet your call sped me to buddhist retreat Yankee Springs only 20 minutes from my hometwo afternoons scribbling notes together in lodge as Gelek spun the word thru Gun Lake sunsetor meeting backstage after Howl & Kaddish Ann Arbor, too ti red to speak, no need to yakk comfortable merely to sit an hour in each other's silent presence as stage hands gathered props & instrumentsyour kiss disappearing into the night your hand waving pulling away& now, calling each of us before the press releases go out generous gesture even dying passing burden & light from Walt thru Williams you & Jack thru those who remain to new nippled generations struggling even now to be born 777 April battered in the frozen storm, ragged seedless tufts atop browned stems of last year's pampas grass scrape & whistle in bright sun: April the rivulet becomes a flood, then subsides those not swept away sink roots further into muck & grow 778 what stirs at the base of these singing stalks? who can swallow the sun, speak in flames, turn the world green? that voice raises continents, shatters mountains, changes tides with a word- yet almost silently, a single drop beads & balances on one unfurling leaf now open in the hidden meadow 119 ... Translatedby Nina Kossman The Promise Is by Kip Zegers On the Bridge by David Cope Quiet Lives by David Cope A Song Out of Harlem by Antar S.K Mberi Silence s for Love Poems by David Cope 1993-1997...Silence s for Love Vox Human a Silence s for Love by David Cope Coming Home by David Cope Fragments from the Stars by David Cope In the Inmost Hour of the Soul Selectedpoemsof Marina Tsvetayeva... Patricia F Cleary Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data: Cope, David, 194 8Silences for Love / by David Cope 120 p cm.-(Vox humana) ISBN 978-0-89603-631-4 ISBN 978-1-4612-1812-8 (eBook)