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Harold Rhenisch In the Presence of Ghosts |
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Reference West, 1993. ISBN: 1-895362-19-9 5.5 X 8.5 94 pp $10, regular edition. $20 for one of 10 hand-sewn copies.
In the tradition of Homer's Odyssey, Dante's Inferno and Pound's Cantos, Robin Skelton, witch and poet, goes to Hell to visit and learn from his mentor, Ezra Pound. Virgil was a rational teacher for Dante, guiding him safely through Hell. Pound is wild, his mind making unexpected leaps, as Skelton and Pound spar verbally in scenes marked by bright imagery and acidic wit. In the end, Skelton wins through in these mercurial poems, and lays Pound's troubled soul into a form of self knowledge and rest. This is the first section of a long work in progress entitled The Marriage of Gonzago to His Heirs and Concubines, which solves the problems of Pound's unfinished and unfinishable poem The Cantos, by stepping sideways into the traditions of poetry rising from magic, exemplified by Skelton.
A Blast"It is strange to be made into a myth while I'm still alive!" Robin Skelton
Sample PoemsThese samples form a sequence from the latter part of the book. They can be read independently or together.
The Italian Hat The Spartans Are Coming! The Underground Art Review, first numberTHE ITALIAN HAT The afternoon sun shone greyly through the grey branches and cast sooty shadows over them, cutting them up into sharp angles and truncated pieces, here a foot, there the grainy folds of Ezra's rough trousers, rolled up to his knees. Robin's beard burned in an ashen flame. Ezra let the light wash over him, his head thrown back, jaw slack, lips dry. Lookz LIKE a goddam B&W fot/grph. Taiks ya bak. Shore taiks y back. A grey cloud floated slowly overhead in the dream of a bird. Lookz LIKE a goddam B&W fot/.... Ezra slapped the side of his head, like he was shaking something loose from a tin. He tried to talk. His tongue rasped over his lips, pale, pink. His voice filled the air, low &emdash; dry &emdash; as if it was coming from the tree, the rocks, his eyebrow, his shoe, his fingertips. The Thottt ekoes off the woidzz as I tawkk. Robin tapped his ear with his fingertips, turned his head around in his hands and shook it. Something rattled deep inside. He tapped it again. Ezra's voice fell out even more slowly, like a phonograph winding down, swallowiing its notes in a hollow mouth. Like a BAHT finding ts way thru a smawull dawk roo-uhm struhnnG wi woeRdz. And then static. ssss ssss sss kk k sss. Tiny green butterfly worms were crawling on the dusty stump of Robin's neck, raising their hhhhheads, writhing. Robin held his head close to Ezra's ear. "Is that like the circus, you meant?" Mmmm? In the grey 400ASA shadow, F2.5, the light thick and dim in the air, shallow, Ezra began to fit the nozzle onto a German-made backpack sprayer, his long fingers fumbling with the tiny parts. Wasss at? "Gypsies, leading bears on leashes, before the Wars?" Befowr we were dmnD to live in SPACE, Ti-uhm killd rite awuFF, NOwon has a clu WahWt yu mee-ahn by iT any moWRr? He slipped the nozzle behind Robin and squeezed. Nothing. He screwed the cap off to check the screen. Robin's head grinned up at him, wide-eyed, in rich colour, swimming in that shining, white, chemical soup. "Hi-ii. Hard at work?" Sheeet. Wdnt tit jus be EASierrrr ta putTT da dmn Thhing back AWh-nnn? "Mmm. Like a hat, you mean?" Robin gave a bright smile. "Here, help me up, would you?" He puckered his lips, closed his eyes tight, angelic, his beard floating out. Pinching his nose, Ezra peered in over the lip. Acid light pouring out of the tank bathed his face. Even the tree behind him flickered briefly with colour, green, with new leaves. Ezra thrust his arm down to drag him up. Yowww!! He yanked him up real fast &emdash; like God pulling golden fish out of the dry sun-baked soil of the American Southwest, right through the crust of salt. He flicked the head off with a snap of his wrist. Don huRrtt a BiT. "Good," said Robin, his head lying there at an odd angle, among the rocks, the rocks huge, and among them Ezra's foot. Ezra bent way over and peered into his face. Robin stared back, chewed and swallowed hard. "Real good!" Choose another sample THE UNDERGROUND ART REVIEW, first number Ezra bounded down, animated, long-legged, from rock to rock, through all the stunted grasses, the tiny, fiery flowers, excited, like Pan, down from the steep, shale slopes, above the Aegean, the sea stretching, below him, like the sky. I likd the way the Tyds came IN over the strEEtz in VENice. The fissh usedta flUtr silvR n bluewww ovr th coBBlz SwimmM rite pAst yu syu wlkd oWt. The hole siteee smelld like th SEEE, like ANeee miNutt th hay-iz ws gointA LIFTT awf n yud be staNNDing tharrr IN th mARshes, th lite ovR yu like yu cd TUch it. Robin had his head in his lap, pulling golden straws of grass out of his beard. As if each was a red-hot piece of wire, he brushed them off quickly onto the ground. They faded slowly; a whole scattered field of thin flames around him in various stages of decay, a deep, detailed, downward movement. "Of course you can touch the light." Yuv got yr HAnds back AWn! Ezra plunked himself down and took one of Robin's hands in his. HauughH! "Why do you always get to be the straight man?" Robin spread his fingers wide: each one was a sow's bristle brush. He fanned them out likkkke a peacock's tail, slowly, there before him. "You seen any paint here?" Paynnnt? Payynnnnttt? Ezra reached into his pocket and drew up a crusty rind of bread. Wall, Naw, but TharZ THIS. He held it out to Robin softly. Here I cnt YOOS this anYMOWER. Yu still can. U miteaswell tay-ik it. Robin's eyes rolled up, to look at him. Ezra bent down and thrust the crust forward. HERE. "Sure could use some paint." Robin brushed the bread away and dipped his right forefinger into his mouth. When he pulled it out it was vermillion. He stuck in his thumb, and pulled it out&emdash;cadmium white: like a feather on the edge of his hand. He began to brush his cheek. "Mmmmmmmm." Stawp thaht! Ezra slumped back. Itz Wuhds. Jest wuds. Dars no DAMN THINNG but wahds. I'm SICK of ttthEM naw-OH!!!! Robin brushed the feather softly over his eyelids. "Looks like snow to me." Luks lika n emptee sheat of PAY/purr! YHu brott Any Zizzerss? Ezra turned his pockets out. See. NO//THING. Robin brushed the feather over his ear. "Like goddamn Dostoevsky, you mean?" Gawwdd!! Listennn. Thar R thingS I still wahnnted to SAYYY ab/t clar/ty n StrukT-chur// abowt how yu cn string the wuhds OWT/ta kEY-uP it from co-HEAR/entzzzz. Robin set his head down gently and turned his pockets out. "See." Yah, I seE. Choose another sample THE SPARTANS ARE COMING! NevRr Rrred anyTHING f yURs. WOT sorta stuff/ya been chURning owut AWL these yEEr-ez? Robin tossed his head over to Ezra, his lips trembling in a low hum. Ezra grasped it, like a glass ball, and stared at it, real close, following the words on its lips. The sky is the scales of a salmon, flowing; the moon is the iris of a salmon, spawning; the light is the muscle of a salmon, dreaming; the sun is the heart of a salmon, swimming. The world leaps at the freshwater falls of light; the earth swims in a cold pool. Old gods with tongues of moss; incantations to put the old, unforgiving deht; the earth swims in a cold pool. Old gods with tongues of moss; incantations to put the old, unforgiving dewd hAH!-PEN fyou trnD the Ree-PUB-lick inta VERS and stuck Plaitoh! OUTside the wahels to tawak to the Spahtans out thaR in thaht shayeL heat. DAMN, wat R we DOing YOUzing wudz ANywAy. Ya eithr trY ta git them abso-LOOTly still, like a pawund with NO wind lying ovr it, nothing old, jest abso-lOOtleee nue, absoLooTELY NAWT there, so ya can see threw IT write ta the bAWttummmmn, or you try to SEE the winnnunnd, thats old/or thn ths bloo dreme here that YUR NEvr gonna get OWTOV /r yu try to keep the wuhads mOOving like a flawk of sheep and yur jest sum stewpid SHEEPherd up in the PyrenEEZ and yu donnt knOW the END abowt wuh-atz any-wAY. He was squeezing the head real hard, and shaking it as he spoke, gesticulating. "Never mind all that!" Robin snatched it out of Ezra's hands, sat it carefully on his shoulders and smoothed down his hair. "You've been dead for eighteen years. What have you been writing all this time?" Nawttta wrETTCHed thing. Yur INside things here. THEY make you goOVR AwL yr BUKS wuhd by wuhd and deefine eXZaKtleee WAHT all of them MEE-ahNNNN "NO!" Nd yu? He glared. Robin shook off the brushes &emdash; his hands splashed open: bowls of light. He broke one off and passed it over, like a leaf. On it rested a bulging drop of dew, as large as a man's head, and in it a hundred tiny silver and black fish. Ezra watched for a long time the bright-patterned movements, blue-silver, in their watery light. His voice came out all breath. Sahmonnn? "Steelhead. They just hatched." Ezra brought his head real close and peered at them. Then he smashed the cool and trembling drop to the ground. The fish scattered in all directions, like when you throw a pebble into the calm water behind a dock and the minnows dart away. And thAHTTZZ the IDeogrAMmAtiK METH/odddd! "The fish are all gone." Wahll, they'll bE BAck! Choose another sample
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