Ceyx and Alcione I

Ceyx (pronounced SAY-ex) was a bright darkness upon the earth, being the son of a star. His father, who nobody had ever seen by day, had been king of a distant realm. But he was visible in the night sky from which he shone brilliantly, clear to anyone who looked. True, he had been thrown out of his kingdom for discretionary reasons by the God-King because he was ambitious and loved things rather than ideas. To what extant this defect came to inhabit his son Ceyx is vague-maybe it did and maybe it didn't. You would not like to meet him in a dark alley, though, by the looks of him, for a paradoxical darkness enveloped him, born from so bright a source, that you might think would make the going tough.
His thick eyebrows arched darkly over fine, onyx-black eyes that burned like the star they were born from, fringed with leaf-like lashes that all but bore dates. His mouth was full and his teeth looked better than they were. His head was well-sculpted and his chin was, like glass, richly cleft. A length of neck bore his head up smartly. The head itself was covered with shiney, straight black hair, that fell over his sloping forehead in bangs, unless he had recently cut it. Only his nose was a little large.
He was married to a king's daughter named Alcione, (pronounced Hal-SEE-oh-nee) , whose father was named Aeolus (pronounced HAY-oh-luss) . He happened to be king of the winds, no easy job. His was to command the whistling winds from his citadel off the coast of Sicily-why there, God only knows, but the space was available, so he took it.
Alcione, his daughter, ....

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A Snippet

I looked across the asparagas at my adversary. That, in this town, is what you call the person sitting across from you at a dinner party, whether you've met them before or not. Unless, of course, a romantic interest supervenes.

He was chattering to the lady on his left, who was bending his way and listening as if spell-bound. A scotoma of candle flame interrupted a view of his face.

'I think immigration represents a brain-drain for the mother country, ' he said, roundly.

Amazing and very clever. Put that way, it seemed less an affront to cherished liberal, American values. Speaking only for myself, I do not feel people should air their extremist views at dinner parties. It bodes ill for digestion.

'Why, ' he continued, unflappably, 'should the brightest and most energetic be encouraged to emigrate? And the prisoners and gang-members? Shouldn't they stay home and help build their societies for the betterment of their people, create a stable middle class and not flood the labor market here? Or receive their due? Must everything be about money? Must ideology always triumph over reason? Must opportunity always imply 'elsewhere? ' Can't it be created elsewhere? And, as for AIDS, can't we just export the meds? '

Blasphemy! Annoyed by this sort of illogical 'back door' conservatism, I said, leaning forward,

'You must be a Republican.'

'I voted for Obama, ' he said, curtly. 'And even if I were, do you guage the validity of an idea by the political party of its advocate? '

This I found evasive in the extreme.

'Stick to the point, ' I said.

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The Peanut-Butter Cookie

-So what happened to him?
-How should I know. It was long ago.
-A memory. Awful-is consciousness just circular memory? Is reality?
-Memory and will. And sex, of course, implementing both. Erase memory, you still have will. Reality is something different, though. I can see him like yesterday.
Are you sure you didn't dream him up? That what you told me wasn't a figment?
Yes, I'm sure. It's one of those things you don't forget. I was five, maybe six. It was frosty cold. Scalding cold, you might say-bearable if you had a stout coat. My breath came out in smoky plumes. It was New Year's day. Everyone was excited and hung from the night before. The sky was blue and cloudless. I was content.
-Hmmmm. Where was this?
Broad Street. Philadelphia.
-We were watching the parade. My first. There was something magical about it-those never-ending platoons of marchers in tights, all strumming banjos. The sun shone on their sequins and made them gleam....it was dizzying!
-Wow!
-...and the fake bird tails-peacock tails made out of fake feathers. Everyone had one. Like the tails of lyre-birds, they were...
-Of what kind of bird?
-and the banjos, strumming, strumming. And the curiously hollow horns.The sound came in waves, fading into the north and coming on again from the south.
-Jeez. Where were your mom and pop?
-I don't know. Suddenly they were gone. Maybe I repressed them.
-Gone when he came along?
-Exactly. I was standing on a curb in a crush of people...
-What was he wearing?
-An urchin suit out of Dickens. Out of Central Casting. He could have been Peter Pan's understudy. I have the impression he was barefoot, but that's hardly likely.
-How old....

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Anniversary

The kitchen calender, impaled by a nail in the wall,
rifled by the breeze over the still-damp floor,
its gridded edges stamped with dates
under Fantin La Tour plates,
is the wind's rolodex;
the blue filled corners of each graven square,
like window boxes after April snow,
says it's been a week beyond a year
since your long, inelegant demise, O Mother dear.

I see you snatched from the doldrums of Providence
where the streets had names like Main, Mt Pleasant and Charles,
transported from the high-school football fields of Providence,
so quiet, one could recite rosaries unperturbed,
despair tweaked only by the ticking clock,
the lovliest orphan on the block,
trusting only in what's plain: God's choosey grace,
that awesome provost, his Holy Ghost
and your own sweet face.

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Ceyx And Alcione lll

So she worried-really worried-when Ceyx announced at breakfast one morning his intention of going on a sea voyage. It made no difference that he was going to Delphi on business. She worried because she loved him dearly, and, better than him, knew the power of the winds, before which taverns collapsed and chairs, cats, small children flew through the air like birds.
'No! '
'Honey, I must! I will! Delphi is definitely on my agenda. Frankly, it could make a big difference in our life style'.
'Absolutely not. I have a bad feeling about this one, trust me'.
'I'm going'.
'Then I'm going, too.'
'Forget it.'
Yes, no, etcetera...back and forth-it would make your head spin.
Finally she said 'ok.go'
The day of departure dawned. The ship was ready. Ceyx boarded and turned to bid his wife goodbye. She could barely look at him. Did she know what was to come? Maybe yes, maybe no.
'Don't worry, honey, it's only for a while. I'll come back to you- promise.
Maybe yes, maybe no. And the ship disappeared over the horizon, its sails filled with gentle winds. But this was before the days of radar,
weather forecasts and hurricane warnings, so the sailors could scarcely anticipate foul weather such as befell them next morning. Sure enough, a storm blew up, worse than any Alcione could imagine, spinning and capsizing the ship in a furor of ill-winds. In a short time the ship was in pieces and its hands walking the undersea currents. Ceyx himself was pulled under. His last word, as the wave crashed over his head was 'Alcione'. His fate was the dread of all mortals-to remain unburied in the sight of the gods, without even so much as an oar planted in the sand to mark the spot where the ship's carcass was cast ashore.

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Remembering Christmas

A small dark plane is parked outside the complex.
A span of wings hangs over the glistening snow.
On the fuselage Fox News or CNN or something.
Crewmen mill about arm-flapping against the cold.

The night is crossed and looped with beams and cables
Lense men decide the best place to pitch the cameras
Candles burn tall at a table decked with holly-boughs.
It has stopped snowing. All is merry and bright.

There on the terrace sits Mrs. Claus herself
Mittened, beribboned, wrapped in a fur-lined parka
The slightly-embarrassed focus of so much attention,
But growing momently more and more at home.

She is talking to an interviewer-no, a whole panel of them
Having decided-why not-in favor of mikes
Of which six whistle and crackle in an arc before her
Beside a platter of just-baked Christmas goodies.

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Diotima 2 part one

'There, ' she said, clearing her throat,
shaking the hair from her face
and taking a sip of Aether-Aid:
'Now you have it. Your own sweet dream.
I hope you like it. Tell me it isn't
just what you wanted.'

'Like it? I LOVE it. Thanks, alot.
But I'm gonna' turn the light out now,
I'm kinda' tired and I have to get up early.
They're flying me to Albany.'
(I'd pulled a muscle at the gym and was in tremendous pain) .

'No, now! ' she said, turning the light back on.
'What's the matter. Do you think this was easy? '
'Absolutely not, ' I said, yawning and winding the clock,
'but it's a small plane.'

'Look how bright it is! '

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A Visit From Diotima lV

D God, what a mess! Everything's soaked!
MM Diotima, this was predictable.
D I'm so sorry. But, if you hadn't said those awful things. Hey,
I'm REALLY sorry.
MM Well, it's a little late for that.
D Where do you think all the water went?
MM Downhill.
D You mean....
(they look down)
MM Never mind. I'll call the insurance company when it gets light.
D Good thing Louise lives upstairs.
MM You can say that, again.
D Good thing Louise lives up-
MM Diotima! Did you have to wear those heels?
D They go with my outfit.
MM What outfit. You're barely wearing anything!
D It's hot. I dress for the weather.
MM On that premise, you should just go naked.
D So, what's YOUR excuse?
MM (realizes he is naked as Adam)

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An Intruder, cont, cont

The first thing I did next (actually rather fine)
Morning was to open the door and check on Pigeon.
I admire determination in man or bird
Even determination ventured for its own sake
There being no other course to choose;
That, notwithstanding, in all faith,
I expected to see Pigeon fled, the flower pot empty,
Her shambles of a nest gone, gone, gone,
Blown, stick over piddling stick under paltrey stick, to the four corners-
Swept away, like Giancarlo Giannini
In the so-named movie popular a few years back.
But (surprise) , weatherwise all was fine and morning-bright
Whereas the heavens were low and kvetchy, overnight,
Now they were high, preternaturally blue and cloud free;
Whereas, last night the rain made credible the flood-myth
Now the leaves were pliant, crisp and green,
Like the skin of youth, restored,
As though to show, despite the furor of the storm
They pulled through pretty good, anyhow.
Only some water stood placid in the bowls

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Ceyx And Alcione V

'So, my husband, you are dead, ' she whispered before sleep finally came, 'then, so am I.'

The next day she told her family about the dream. She didn't look well. Her hair was uncharacteristically uncombed, her clothes in disarray. They listened respectfully but glanced at each other meaningfully. Mad, poor girl.

'Mad with grief, ' they nodded.'No surprise, after what she's been through.' They did nothing, but resolved to keep an eye on her.

The next day Alcione went for a long walk. She soon came to the port the boat bearing her husband to Delphi had left from. Staring numbly out to sea, she watched the waves rise and fall, beating a ceaseless path shoreward. Then she spotted a loggy form she first thought was a large fish, then a dolphin. It slid upside the crest of one wave then down into the trough of another, working its way slowly her way. After a bit she recognized the fish-nibbled, blue jello-clad form of Ceyx. Horrified but enchanted, she watched, shielding her eyes from the sun.

'My husband, ' she sobbed, leaping into the waves and covering the form with her form. 'You have kept your promise. You have come back.'

The people (who only saw a log) were mystified, and no less so by what happened next-which proved the existence of the Gods to even the most committed skeptic. Seen by all, the fingers of her hands became long feathers. Likewise, her arms became wings. As her body lightened, she felt it borne up by the breeze. The rolling form of her husband underwent a similar change, sprouting feathers and wings. It, too, livening, was lifted, and together they found themselves coasting over the waves toward the sun, which was still morning low, seabirds together. Forever.

Her voice became a mere, shrill cry, but not before she uttered these ultimate words:

'Winds, be still, and forever be still, these late summer days, in observance of our love.'

And they were. For seven whole days at summer's end. And they still are.

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