Morning in the Burned House
In the burned house I am eating breakfast.
You understand: there is no house, there is no breakfast,
yet here I am.
The spoon which was melted scrapes against
the bowl which was melted also.
No one else is around.
Where have they gone to, brother and sister,
mother and father? Off along the shore,
perhaps. Their clothes are still on the hangers,
their dishes piled beside the sink,
which is beside the woodstove
with its grate and sooty kettle,
every detail clear,
tin cup and rippled mirror.
The day is bright and songless,
the lake is blue, the forest watchful.
In the east a bank of cloud
rises up silently like dark bread.
I can see the swirls in the oilcloth,
I can see the flaws in the glass,
those flares where the sun hits them.
I can't see my own arms and legs
or know if this is a trap or blessing,
finding myself back here, where everything
in this house has long been over,
kettle and mirror, spoon and bowl,
including my own body,
including the body I had then,
including the body I have now
as I sit at this morning table, alone and happy,
bare child's feet on the scorched floorboards
(I can almost see)
in my burning clothes, the thin green shorts
and grubby yellow T-shirt
holding my cindery, non-existent,
radiant flesh. Incandescent.
Margaret Atwood
**************************************************
Starting my day with poetry.
I am emotionally drained after completing
The Executioner's Song.
Geez. Took a lot out of me, but it was worth
what it took. There were times it was so
intense I would have to put it down, walk
around a bit, concern myself with other
things for a little while, and then come back
to it only to find myself doing the same thing about
20 minutes later.
Having read very little Mailer, I had no idea
what style of writing to expect. Reminded me
of Capote. The non-fiction that reads like fiction
with its embellishments and parallel story lines and in-depth
character analysis.
So, time to start something else. God knows I have enough
books piled under my bedside table and on it and on the floor
to last me for a little while.
Atwood to Oliver, I think. And then....hmmmm.....
two books--a bio--Portrait of An Artist: A Biography
of Georgia O'Keeffe and a fiction: The Way of All Flesh,
Samuel Butler.
But first some poems. Some breakfast. A load of laundry.
Some strong coffee. The newspaper. Medicine.
The bed with a book. That has been the only good thing
thus far about being fired--I have time to read.
Other than that, it's been a damned hard
adjustment.
Test this Saturday for a state position (Training and Development
Specialist). We'll see how that goes.
Another application to fill in today for another position
with the state (with the Dept. of Health and Human
services). Another one to the courts (Juvenile Justice).
5 comments:
My cindery, non-existent radiant flesh.
Geez.
Thanks for reminding me that I love Atwood and don't read nearly enough of her poetry or fiction.
The Mailer, yes, WAS draining as I recall. I read it many years ago after falling in love with Tommy Lee's portrayal of Gary.
I think I fall in love with Tommy every time I see him on screen. I watched Coal Miner's Daughter the other day for the third or fourth time, and damn, I love him in that movie. Heck, I love that movie.
Ever see Resurrection? Ah, I just googled and see I'm mistaken--I thought Tommy was in it, but it's Sam Shepherd who I also fall in love with every time I see him onscreen.
I'm a sucker for a hard man. A hard, gentle man.
I read an O'Keefe biography years ago. Wonder if it's the same one you're diving into. Reading it made me long to have a relationship in my life akin to the one she had with Steiglitz. She was one hell of a woman.
The Way of All Flesh. What a killer diller title. I'll have to trot over to Amazon and check it out.
Good luck on your test, ma'am.
you were fortunate to read the best of mailer on your first encounter. nothing he has ever done, before or since, quite comes up to the executioner's song, but some of his articles for esquire, particularly his coverage of the ali bout in africa, were wonderful. but a lot of his stuff is overladen and windblown and just forced. but mailer has a lot of baggage and a lot of contracts and a lot of people he's responsible to, including a string of ex-wives and children, all of which require a rather constant output, and it's no wonder that much of his stuff doesn't quite make it.
the atwood piece is startling and original, really breathtaking.
Laurel,
Ditto on the Atwood, Tommy Lee Jones, Coal Miner's daughter. I saw The Executioner's Song when it came out (made for tv movie, I think). Just never got around to reading the book until now.
Haven't seen Resurrection but will look it up. There are times I really like Sam Shephard but not always. Did you see Frances? It's on my list of must watch movies.
The O'Keeffe bio is an old one that I read several years ago and have been wanting to reread.
O'Keeffe was such a fascinating woman who had the most beautiful hands. God, Steiglitz loved to photograph her hands. I love her work and have loved it for many years. Was so thrilled to get to see so much of it at the Art Institute.
Thanks for the luck thoughts--I think I am going to need them. I hate standardized testing. It's not ever enough to complete the degree requirements, ya know?
***************************
And jim,
The only other Mailer I have read was a book called The Gospel According to the Son: A Novel. It was so-so, but The Executioner's Song was amazing.
The night I finished reading the book and decided I would search for something to watch on tv, I kept running into more and more heavy-duty emotionally-laden choices (like 21 Grams, oh geez, I can't help myself--I watch it over and over even when I know it's going to literally tear me apart),when guess what I found? When We Were Kings. Go figure. I finish reading Mailer, and then there he is all over tv that night.
Yes, I think the Atwood piece is breathtaking as well. One of my favs. I have so many, but how can one not when there is so much fine work out there?
Resurrection is a hell of a movie. It's about a woman played by Ellen Burstyn (who I love in the same way that I love Patricia Neal--they both strike me as being incredibly real onscreen rather than merely inhabiting characters or acting) who after surviving a car accident which kills her husband, discovers that she has healing powers. Sam Shepherd plays her lover who flips out and gets kind of hostile and crazy because she doesn't use or view the healings she performs in a religious context.
I just googled The Way of All Flesh. Not what I expected...or I guess WANTED from that title at all. Worth reading though?
I saw Frances a long time ago. Good movie. Sad movie.
Jessica Lange is one damned lucky woman. Baryshnikov AND Shepherd? It hardly seems fair.
(I've had a big, big crush on Baryshnikov since I saw him in The Turning Point years and years ago. Heck, that movie is the reason I feel, briefly, in love with ballet.)
This has always been one of my favorite Atwood poems. Every time I read it, it tags along behind me for days afterward, tugging on my clothes on hair, breathing on my neck:
This is a Photograph of Me
It was taken some time ago
At first it seems to be
a smeared
print: blurred lines and grey flecks
blended with the paper;
then, as you scan
it, you can see something in the left-hand corner
a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree
(balsam or spruce) emerging
and, to the right, halfway up
what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.
In the background there is a lake,
and beyond that, some low hills.
(The photograph was taken
the day after I drowned.
I am in the lake, in the center
of the picture, just under the surface.
It is difficult to say where
precisely, or to say
how large or how small I am:
the effect of water
on light is a distortion.
but if you look long enough
eventually
you will see me.)
Wow.
The Atwood you posted just really got to me. What a poem.
I just finished reading a Patricia Neal biography. I didn't realize she was married to the author of James and the Giant Peach and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Roald Dahl. The bio was well written (for the most part). It can be so damned hard to get a good bio.
The Way of All Flesh is on this list:
http://www.randomhouse.com/modernlibrary/100bestnovels.html
I really wanted to major in comparative lit, but life had other plans for me, so I still pretend sometimes that I am pouring through books that may have been required reading. I must admit, many of the books are laborious reading, and The Way of All Flesh may turn out to be one of them. Won't know until I read it. The title pulled me in, but a synopsis of the book (as you discovered) doesn't sound like what I thought it might be about. Can't judge a book by its cover or title, though, can we? I'm not big on the list things, but I thought, what the hell, read some of them. Many I have already read. Many I read at least once a year (To Kill A Mockingbird), but there are many on there I have only read about. I confess that there are many on that list that I don't plan to read!
I'll let you know. I am going to start reading it tonight. Started the O'Keeffe last night and remember why I enjoyed reading it the first time.
I love Ellen Burstyn too, so I am going to have to rent Resurrection.
Took my test today. It sucked. It presumed there is only one answer that is right to the question. I think the answer to the question is dependent largely on the situation.
We'll see.
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