Cory Massaro
The Trousers of the Rich
There was a note of breeding in my voice,
Free from Italy's accent, vulgar noise,
And comfort clothed my limbs in every stitch,
The night I worse the trousers of the rich.
Formerly, passing sad men of the streets,
I'd given of my store, that they might eat;
No pity on this night made my face flinch,
The night I wore the trousers of the rich.
My poor manners on my reformed soul grated--
All placing forks upon my features faded;
My gait and bearing reached a cleaner pitch,
The night I wore the trousers of the rich.
Today I bear the torn rags of the poor,
And cannot strut serenely anymore;
I can but write this hexadekastich
On the night I wore the trousers of the rich.
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First Creation--The Plight of Man
Neither the apple, wrought by God of gold
Which, in the rank and ravaged garden old,
Opened the eye and closed the questing heart
Of whosoever ate, and could impart
By import truth, woe endless by event;
Nor ice primordial, by the cow enriched
Perfection to produce, which bovine licked,
Flattening the rough, and wearing low the smooth
Until first finger, limb, whole body moved,
And to the world perfection did present;
Nor Egg of Worlds, which Chaos did contain,
Where hundred feet of human form in pain
Daily were added to uncounted feet,
Which, meaning born the newborn world to meet,
Divided all and died in sacrament;
Not one of these, chaotic emblems first,
Stayed perfect human form from being cursed.
There will be pleasures: hands will wave in joy,
And hearts will play at love by being coy;
And on the corners of each kissing lip,
Spittle will form, and from the faces drip
That seem so fine; the teeth will glisten clean,
And manducate the choicest chosen food,
Leaving forsaken squalid, bland, or rude,
Preferring warm breads, figs and apples sweet,
And tearing through the strands of slaughtered meat,
Teeth clean, but with the filth of guilt between;
In clothing each will have his part and share,
To shoe and belt and binding giving care:
A thousand bootstraps dull will glitter gold;
Loins will be covered, doubly covered, so
The feces smeared beneath cannot be seen.
And if seed stolen through a womb should worm,
The joyous fruit begot will be deformed.
For man's first gift, Disgust will not relent
In plaguing us: would we had never been.
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CARMEN BACCHI: The Song of Bacchus
"To Naxos tack, and, winds, crack in the sails!
Men, dash the placid salt with prow and oar.
Give this young prince, who from a rich land hails,
Your ev'ry courtesy 'till he reach shore.
Acoetes, not so sullen as you steer--
Show neither bile nor blame to our young guest,
Nor admonitions, none such needed here,
No, warn not--tend the helm at my behest.
Young guest, young prince, in balm and opulence dressed!
Sit down, and with the captain drink enjoy;
Our helmsman treat as favored treats the pest,
Attending not, and drink, my radiant boy.
I say the helmsman is a knave and mad,
Who importunes th' uncaring Gods to save,
And calls you, pretty catch, you darling lad,
A God, too: speaking truth not, so he raves.
Yes, with the wind, to Naxos, west and south--
Sure you must know your home by redolence!
Drink deep scent of return, as at the mouth
Cycladian enter we, and shall go hence.
Yes, with the wind; a sailor knows the way!
And now that supple arm with rope I bind
Lest you watch as we reach the slave-trade's bay
And fill our coffers, vending princely kind.
But, ah, this hempen rope is now of vine!
And of a vineyard looks and smells our ship,
All fruited over by a thought divine,
Pipes cramming in my ear, grape on my lip!"
Here ceased he speaking, in my Godly grip
Made less to breathe by mouth than at the nape,
Beating the boards in frenzy at a trip
Begun rapacious, ending not in rape:
"My princely form--hear, ere imbruted wit
Makes senseless words--was fleshly not,
Captain, and now all thought of greed omit
While under wave by fin, not foot, you trot.
Refrain affront, mortal, on sea or sod,
And know that umbrage is the name of Gods."
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RAGNAROK
The flood has laved and licked the earth before
And filled the furrows in her age'd face.
Men, in the myths and minds of countless men,
Have been destroyed and birthed and, endless, ended.
The flat lands crease like an old woman's brow
Under the gray of an ancient lover's caress,
While two incontinent men, unbudged in age,
Paddling the cliff-face, let the shifting streams
And oceans vast run down their legs. The sky,
Once gold, then clouded blue by the sun's career,
Reddens and blackens lurid toward the night.
And as the tumid tide explodes in grief,
And grieving widows bury widowed Earth,
The oldest of their number crows her last,
Shouting of parasitic man, new-purged,
Purged pus and scabrous life, her living bane;
Of ulcered oceans, foamed with bitter breath.
Her womb, the slow disease, now rots, now ripens.
Gray heads melting, smoothed again, subside;
Each bears on its lame ear a tide of bones,
Splinters and vestige of the firstborn man,
Whose cousin, on a semen-scented wind,
Is borne to newer folds.
Two unmoved towers,
Facing each other eternal with crossed arms,
Are toppled, stopping the ocean's unsung spring,
Until an infant rainfall heaves anew,
And laxity of loin is praised again.
Now thunder makes that dark sky, deafened, whimper,
And misty lids fold over starry eyes;
Staring, the nighttime sun is chilled with envy,
Disapproving of earth's latest ferment.
Once more will men stand on a sandy shore
And worship stars beside a salted sea,
And eat the rich fruits of a newborn garden,
Yet the tarnished sky blooms with a lesser gold.
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Doomsday--The Irruption of the Four Horsemen
Enter W., the Horseman riding the white horse, released by the Lamb from his seal.
W.: Ah! long have been the days since Christ first came
Restoring that which Adam lost, and lamed
The Pallid's once-swift foot. But I am freed,
And what whom I oppose in speech and deed
Accomplished, I shall double in effect
Contrasted, come to conquer as I trek.
Now one abroad bloodies the sin-stale air:
Terror! Terror! riding the pallid mare!
Enter R., the Horseman riding the red horse, as before.
R.: Let sword and sword sound, clashing on doomed heads!
The arm'ed come to children in their beds
With longing eyes, and let them use the arm
Inherent; the Godless, hiding, come to harm
Living, and tenfold hurt of flame below;
The victors to th' approaching Pallid bow.
Both: Now two abroad bloody the sin-stale air:
Terror closes, riding the pallid mare!
Enter B., the Horseman riding the black horse, as before.
B.: Slow and slow torment true comes by degrees.
A city conquered but burns to rebel,
But one besieged is like a raptor crippled,
Lame wing useless awash in painful wind,
Prey mocking close denied to dry mouth questing,
And though by hunger each one's wit is dulled,
The sharper is the pang.
Let men be so besieged.
All: Now three abroad drink of the bloodied air:
Terror closes, riding the pallid mare!
Cease, three abroad! Drop bow and blade; cry, "Hail!":
A pallid rider mounts the bridled Pale!
Enter P., the Horseman riding the pallid horse, as before, with all Hell's host accompanying.
W., R., and B.: War, pestilence, and famine over men!
Quake and abhor, mortals, for here again
With strength regained is who intends to thresh
You chaff from the scant crop. Of hugest fame
He is, and all will quake at his mere name:
P.: My name is He that feeds on ev'ry flesh.
The Others: Yes, he you are, but, too, more fearful called:
With power to deprive, pow'r over all:
But speak the name that is itself to hear:
Invoked, a bane to human race forsook,
But bane, too, for us subject to invoke:
P.: To all save Who creates, my name is Fear.
The Others: A truth you speak, our Lord and whom we fear,
But that name, not exalted, but a peer,
We freely take. But rather toward that tend
Which we entreat, to speak what we entreat,
And galls our minds: speak! speak the name most meet!
P.: Your sum and more: half Alpha: I'm the End.
The Others: Who ravens all that bears in it the life!
Who steals from mouths the very God-giv'n breath!
Greatest of those who bring the lasting strife--
P.: (Stentorian) My name, which rots in ev'ry ear, is Death.
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