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Mini-Chap from WDS

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Robert Sward

Selections:

- Sex & TV with Aunt Miriam,1945-1997
- Fashion Makes the Heart Grow Fonder
- L.A.Daughter
- Scarlet the Parrot
- Uncle Dog
- Turning 60
- My Muse
- Prayer for My Mother
- One for the Road
- Books by Robert Sward

Sex & TV with Aunt Miriam -- 1945

(originally published in CROSS-CONNECT)

Part 1

"Always wash your hands after you've played in the backyard with those
leaves and things before touching yourself," said my aunt, beginning our
affair with this public service announcement.

"Yes, m'am."

"Eddie, I'm going to show you how broadminded I am."

"Okay."

"But first I want you to tell me what you do with Lenore and her sister."

"Nuthin."

"You spin the bottle?"

"Yeah."

Luminous brown-eyed English Miriam abuzz with heat,
My left arm around her, my right hand
in her right hand
         "Kiss me         love me         feel me, Eddie..."

I'm a pleaser.  But... what was it she wanted me to do?

                             A seventh grader, I'd been held
back a year at school.  "He tries hard, and he's smart about some things, but..."  

Anyway, I was right in there for a while with the slow learners.

Four thousand feet down in a North of England coal mine,
I'd just have grabbed a shovel and gotten to work.
I'd have known right away what to do.

Holding me with one hand,
marking with the other,
D-I-C-K, wrote my twenty-something aunt.
Hmm.  It felt good.

She finished by drawing some arrows and a bull's eye on her own body.

What was it like?  It was like television, "informative and entertaining."
Never to have been fucked and never to have watched television either,
and then to be fucking and watching the evening news
on one of the first TVs in Chicago, and the Atomic
Bomb going off and the war over all at the same time, I think...
the truth is, I still don't understand.

The diagrams and the lettering helped.
I like seeing things labeled.
I'm so grateful.

"All art aspires to the state of music."  That's true.  I know that.  And even at thirteen I loved Gershwin ("Rhapsody in Blue"), but I knew real music when I heard it.  "O do me, thrill me." And that's what I went for.  That's what I learned at thirteen.  And that's what I'm grateful for.

O Miriam, say it again.  Tell me where you want it.  Draw me a picture.
Ah, dearest, how helpful it's been having those letters printed on my dick.

                    How many times have I been told,
"Eddie, you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground"?  More times
than there are stars in the sky.  And I hold my head high.  At least I know where, O Aunt Miriam, O Miriam, to look for my dick.

 * * *

     Part 2

Fifty-two years later

 
"Oh, my God!  I can't stand it," she said, hearing my voice.
"How are you, Eddie?  I've been trying to find you.  You're
a missing person, you know?"

"I write, I've even published," I said.

"I talked to that publisher of yours.  Famous you're not."

"I know, I know.   And what about you, Miriam?"

"I got some health problems.  I go to temple, the B'nai Brith."
 
"And Uncle Jerry?"

"Dead.  That's why I'm calling, Eddie.  He's dead.  Fifty-four years
we'd been together."  Uncle Jerry, the handsomest man in Chicago,
circa 1945, singer on Chicago's WGN Radio.

"No one thought it would work.  Fifty-four years and we yelled all
the time.  What does anyone know about anything?" she said.

"You stuck it out," I say.  "That's good."
 

              She's twenty-one, twenty-two,
              pale, pinkie-brown where I put my lips.

             "Enjoy yourself, Eddie.  Life is to enjoy."
             "What about Jerry?  What about Uncle Jerry?"

             "Listen to me.  People go up and back between
               loving
                      and not loving.
               Do you understand, Eddie?"
 

              My lips here, there...
              She's teaching me.  "This is how you do it."

             "See," she says, "see."
              I'm thirteen and not wanting to.  Then
              wanting.

             "I want to."
 

"Woof, woof."

"That's Koko.  That dog has a weight problem.
"She doesn't want to move.
"so I let her sleep on our bed.
"Koko is on morphine."

"Your dog is on morphine?"

 "Did you ever hear of such a thing?
"Listen, you're all I got, Eddie.
"you're all the family that's left."

She wants me to fly to Chicago to see her.
"Do I have to draw you a picture?
"Come, Eddie.  Come and see the sights."

               We lie together... Betty Grable mouth
               and red red lipstick
               watching some old movie.
               Listening at the same time to the radio.
               It's the second half of a doubleheader.
               Cubs versus the Pirates.
               and the Cubs are ahead 4-3.
 
              "That's good, Eddie.  That's good.
              "It's  The Star Spangled Banner,
            "O God, don't stop,
              "It's The Stars and Stripes Forever.
              "The Battle Hymn of the Republic.
              "God Save the Queen!
              "Do you understand?
              "Don't stop."
 

She's pushing eighty, she says, and sells Avon.  "It's a living."

I'm grateful, I want to say.  I'm grateful for the arrows.
Whatever else has changed, I will always remember.

The aurora borealis,
and dawn's early light.
That was the year the Cubs won the pennant.

I understand, Miriam, these are the ties that bind.
Broad stripes and bright stars.
America the beautiful.
Purple mountains and spacious skies,
the screwed and sweetly screwy,
this our family, and this our country,

sweet land of liberty,
O fruited plain, O amber fields of grain,
from your apartment house to ours
('til Mom found out)
of thee, O darling, of thee I sing.

 Copyright (C) Robert Sward    1998

Fashion Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

(originally published in SANTA CLARA REVIEW)

"Marriage and hanging go by destiny."
--Robert Burton, Anatomy of Melancholy

Partygoers

Her fruity, floral fragrance--
Honey at her dressing table
like a pilot in the cockpit,
a woman in control, old TV Guides,catalogs,
ordering information
for all the major scents and potions.

She put on (how can I describe them?)
refrigerator avocado green
and white
Keith Partridge bell bottoms. Bizarre and incandescent.
No less bizarre, I wore purple velveteen pants
and a tie-dyed shirt.

Her old lover Warren was there in his pimp suit,
giant bug-eye sunglasses
and huge fake fur pimp hat,
a party with vintage Joan Crawford movies,
Honey wearing Chanel Number 5,
the first synthetic scent.

And me, her consort, I wore
'a blend of crisp citrus and warm spice, mossy woods, a scent
for the feeling man.'

I remember her silver and turquoise earrings.
on the make-up table
as the bed jumped and jerked
those first two years.

Ravi Shankar, Thai weed, and a little homegrown,
that velvet ribbon choker with butterflies
and the scent of her, as she,
O, yummy, yummy,
O, yess, yess, yummy,
Honey's tooled leather belt on the floor.

Then, "Tell me what you want," I said.
"You can't give me what I want."
"What do you want?"
"I'm out of style and so are you.
I want to lose weight."

And like that it was over.

"How about this handbag?" offered Cosmo,
"the perfect accessory
to the outfit you wear
when you leave your husband."

And that's how it ended. Honey at some fashion show
throwing back her head, the spotlight playing
on her face and neck.

Yes, I could see what Honey wanted,
to shop where she'd never shopped before,
to pull on high leather boots
and a mini-skirt; then, beaded Navaho handbag in hand,
flashing a little scented thigh, walking out on someone
who couldn't keep up,
a jerk in tie-dye.

I loved the woman, longed to stay with her and,
to do so, if I could have, arm-in-arm with her,
I'd have walked out on myself.

Portrait of an L.A. Daughter
(originally published in REALPOETIK)

Take #1

Braided blonde hair
white and pink barrettes
Bette Davis gorgeous
I hug her
dreamy daughter with no make-up
silver skull and crossbones
middle ("don't mess with me")
finger
ring
three or four others in each ear
rings in her navel
rings on her thumbs
gentle moonchild
"pal" she announces
to "Porno for Pyros"
formerly the group "Jane's Addiction"
"Nothing's Shocking"
with Perry Farrell
Dave Navarro on guitar
and Stephen Perkins
on drums
"Ain't No Right" they sing.
"What are you,
some kind of groupy?" I say,
She says nothing,
just turns up the volume.
"Been Caught Stealing"
they sing
and "Ted Just Admit It"
"Every body everybody everybody's-"

I hug her
Wet 'n' Wild lip gloss
diamond stud earrings
and glitter on her cheeks

Wan, she's looking wan
my dancing daughter

Hannah Davi -a new name-
walk-on in the movie "Day Of Atonement"
with Christopher Walken

And a part in a Levitz Furniture ad
("it's work")
and a part in an MCI commercial
("Best Friends")
breaking in
"Brotherhood Of Justice"
"Lost Boys"
"Private Lessons"

a Swiss Alps bar-maid
("classic blonde Gretel")
in a Folger's Coffee commercial

"Grunge is in" she says
visiting Santa Cruz
"any Goodwill's around?"

* * *
Flashback

Appearing,
"crowning" says the doctor

"Hannah" says her mother
"the name means 'grace'"

Two-year-old drooling
as I toss her into space
and back
she falls
and back
into space again

Flawless teeth and perfect smile
one blue eye slightly larger than the other
her three thousand miles away mother
still present as
two as one
two breathing together
we three breathe again as one
Hannah O Hannah


Scarlet the Parrot

"Wake," she whispers. I tell her my dream.
We kiss. Poppy Express. Racy Red. Red Coral.
Star Red.
Red red.

"Enough. That's enough," she says.

Prayer for My Mother (1906-1948)

"May the Great Name be blessed..."

by Robert Sward

1. Mother's Limousines
Mourn like a Jew, Grandfather says,
tearing my shirt
	from the collar down,
and when she's buried, rip out the grass
	and wail.
Expose your heart. Lament for her.
	Mother, mother
	mother of the inflamed heart.
Car door slamming behind us as we exit...
	I don’t like her, I'm thinking,
	I really don't like her.
Bar-mitzvah’d boy, 13, I say it once,
say what I'm told to say,
"He is the Rock, His work is perfect...
Say it,
	YIT-GA-DAL V’YIT-KA-DASH SH’MEI RA-BA B’AL MA...
	the Kaddish of sounds, not words
May a great peace from heaven... I say,
May His great Name be blessed,
...Magnified and sanctified...
	Y’HAY SH’LAMA RABA MIN SH’MAYA V’CHAYIM
	ALENU... I say.
...a week later,
	no to the rabbi,
	no to morning,
	no to twilight,
	no to the mid-day prayer
no repeating the prayer three times a day for a year
	no, I say, and no to the shul.
	"We're animals first and human second," she says,
	"and there is no God.
	Do you hear me?"
Fox-trotting mother. Dancer mother. Beauty Queen
	in the house of prayer.
	"Mom," I ask, "how do you pray?"
	She shakes her head and turns away.
	"Snap out of it," she says.
	"Better to go shopping," she says,
	"better to get a job, better to make money."
	I reach out. "Mom--"
	"Hands off," she says,
	"hands off."
	"Kids," she says. "Oy vay."
	"Holocaust," she says. "Oy oy, oy."
	"God," she says.
	"What God?"
"Bless the Lord who is blessed," I don't pray.
May the Great Name be blessed," I don't pray,
	but burn a candle so Mother,
Miss Chicago
	can find her way back.
	Later , I cannot recall her face.
	"...you're not to look on any photo of her,
	not for seven days," says Grandfather.
	What did she even look like?
	Faceless son
	mourning a faceless mother,
	mourning her,
	mourning
	freelance,
	mourning on the fly
She'll wander for seven days, Grandfather says,
then, when she's wormed, her soul will return to God.
	lacks a body and I can't recall her face
	lacks a body and I can't recall her face
"Save her soul from Gehenna.
"Join us," pleads the rabbi.
	No, no is my prayer
No to duty and no to prayer.
Who was she? Some brunette rich girl
I never knew,
	a stranger dead at 42.
Mother, the beautiful secretary.
I touch her in a dream. She turns,
and there ’s no one there.
I shake from head to foot.
I stand and I sway.
"Mother, Mother," I say.
Blessed be the stranger.
No, no to the stranger,
no to the stranger.
No is my Kaddish.
No is my prayer.
I am the no
I am the not.
I will not be her savior,
I will not.
2. Gehenna, or Purgatory
	Mother applies Pond's Beauty Cream. Her face glistens.
	Massages her forehead with one hand,
	holds the other to her heart.
	"What's the point?" she asks, cigarette ablaze,
	mouth tightening.
	When she dies, they bury her not in a shroud,
	but in pancake make-up
	and best gray dress.
Turn the photos to the wall, says Grandfather,
and cover your lips.
That's right. Now cover your face.
Isolate yourself -- groan -- let your hair grow wild.
The mourner is the one without a skin, says the Talmud.
Understand? You are no longer whole.
And I think: I am going to die, too.
Sit in silence and say nothing.
	How about a prayer to locusts? I pray,
	How about a prayer to boils?
	O murdering heaven, I pray.
Grandfather cooks lentils,
lentils and eggs. Mourner's food, he calls it.
	A prayer to rats,
	and a prayer to roaches.
Death is the mother of beauty, he says.
The death of another makes you want to die, he says.
The Angel of Death is made entirely of eyes, Grandfather says.
	Damn seeing,
	Damn touching.
	Damn feeling.
	Damn loving.
In Jewish hell--
	I am the unknowing,
	the not Jewish Jew.
Split, cloven,
cracked
	In hell
	nameless
	and eyeless,
	faceless.
	No, no to blessings,
	no to teachings,
	no to reading from right to left.
	I pray with them,
	I pray with the no, I pray with the not.
	I pray with the dead, I pray with the damned.
	God, God who is a wound, we pray.
3. Against Darkness
	Kaddish is a song against darkness, says the rabbi.
YIT-GA-DAL V’YIT-KA-DASH SH’MEI RA-BA B’AL MA...
	Magnified and sanctified
	May His Great Name Be...
	"No it says, no to darkness. No to nothingness
	'May His Great Name be blessed.'
	"Kaddish praises God...
	"Kaddish: a mourner's prayer
	that never mentions death.
	Y'HAY SH’LAMA RABA MIN SH’MAYA V’CHAYIM...
"Now then, Let R__, the son of G__,
	come forward," says the rabbi,
but I freeze, pretend not to hear.
Again he calls, calls me to say Kaddish.
(Loudly) "Let R__, son of G__, step beside me."
Ten other mourners turn in my direction.
Again I pretend not to hear.
Staring, face crimson, then white, he turns
and continues with the service.
The Lord is our God, the Lord is One...
	I mourn her -- mourn Kaddish -- mourn shul
	and head for home. Age 13, I walk out
	looking
	for stones
	I might hurl into heaven.
***
	I am the un-bar-mitzvah,
	escaped
	Jew from nowhere,
	apostate,
	skipped Jew,
	cleft Jew,
	Jew, pause in the beating of the heart.
***
	Once home, I pray, Damn Him,
	damn G-d, I pray.
Lying in bed I make up my mind to sin.
Holding open my eyes with the fingers
	of one hand
I use the fingers of the other
	to masturbate my cornea.
	Mother, car door slamming,
				the shovel biting
	Mother, whose body is the world,
				spinning into space--
	Life rattles, she says.
	My son, His Royal Highness, she says,
				“get used to it.
	Mom, is there an afterlife?
	Shape up, she says. You are my afterlife.
				God help us.
4. Anniversary
"We're just subdivisions of one person.
One's no better than any other.
Someone dies and you move forward
	into the front lines," Grandfather says,
	lighting a yortzeit candle.
"Blessed art thou who raises the dead..."
Shaking the match, he turns. Gottenyu! he says.
I should have been next.
Tears well up
	and I see him see her
	in me.
Same color hair,
	same eyes... Grandfather says.
Remember seeing her in her coffin? he asks,
	grabbing my arm.
Your mother didn't believe, but she'll be raised
and rest with G-d. Does love quit?
"Can you feel her... hear her inside you?"
I nod.
"Where?"
"Here, in my chest."
"And what does she say?"
"She says nothing," I reply,
	but she does:
	"Loopy doop," she says, "Rest in peace!
	Wait'll you die, you'll see. There is no peace.
	When you're dead,
	you're dead.
	Enough.
				Meshugge! she says, and shakes her head.
Pray, damn you, he says. It's your mother.
...Now it's over, he sobs.
	But you, the un-mourner
will mourn for her all your life.
Jew, Jew without beginning, he mocks,
Jew who got away,
	sinner, sinner, he yells,
snap out of it.

______Copyright (C) 1999-2000 Robert Sward

One for the road.
A little detached it was, but bouncy, flouncy, hoochie coochie,
woo wah woo, out there under the stars,
woo wah woo,
one for the road, one for the road it was,
and end of the show.
Stupid shit, how was I to know?
One for the road and end of the show?
So good-humored it was, I missed the clue,
hugging and kissing, all that
hugging and kissing.
Missed just how all over it really was.

e-mail: sward@cruzio.com
http://www.cruzio.com/~scva/rsward.html

BOOKS BY ROBERT SWARD

POETRY

Advertisements, Odyssey Chapbook Number One, 1958
Uncle Dog & Other Poems, 1962
Kissing The Dancer & Other Poems, Introduction by William Meredith, 1964
Thousand-Year-Old Fiancee, 1965
Horgbortom Stringbottom, I Am Yours, You Are History, 1970
Hannah's Cartoon, 1970
Quorum/Noah (With Mike Doyle), 1970
Gift, 1971
Five Iowa Poems, 1975
Cheers For Muktananda, 1976
Honey Bear On Lasqueti Island, B.C., 1978
Six Poems, 1980
Twelve Poems, 1982
Movies: Left To Right, 1983
Half-A-Life's History, Poems New & Selected, 1983
The Three Roberts, Premiere Performance, 1984
(Featuring Robert Priest, Robert Zend, and Robert Sward)
The Three Roberts On Love, 1985
The Three Roberts On Childhood, 1985
Poet Santa Cruz, Introduction by Morton Marcus, 1985
Four Incarnations, New & Selected (1957-1991), 1991
Uncivilizing. A Collection of Poems, 1996
Sex & TV with Aunt Miriam (in manuscript)

FICTION

The Jurassic Shales, A Novel, 1975
Family, with contributions by David Swanger, Charles Atkinson, Tilly
Shaw, 1994
A Much-Married Man, A Novel, 1996

NON-FICTION

The Toronto Islands, An Illustrated History, 1983

EDITED BY ROBERT SWARD

Vancouver Island Poems, An Anthology, 1973
Emily Carr: The Untold Story, 1978