Caroline Knox

So sault means "jump," as in
sauter in France, but not
in New France! In Old France
the l dropped out. In New,
they kept it: Sault Ste. Marie,
the leap, the rapids. But
in a linguistic roux, Sault
became Soo, reduced. Very
practical, actually, like
semaphores or an aquifer.

Why, clouds needing airfoils
ballooned up over the skiff
portage under the overpass
of the Soo Line and north to the
Soo-Dominion connector,
as sailors to the top.
They say skip because the ship rolls;
hear trains while asleep slipping into foul-weather gear,
hear trains while asleep.
...

Their sound is gone out, belts out a choir
visible and audible here in the transept
North East West South: acronym, N E W S
gone out andante into all lands
turf and twig. (An OED or google game
[tran—across; septum—enclosure],
as this item: "The pediment of the southern
transept [of Kiddington] is pinnacled,
not inelegantly, with a flourished cross.")
and their words I keep reminding myself
unto the ends of the world swept
aisles and isles going and coming either way
coming and going, monument and document.
...

She remains important: think of Leni
Riefenstahl; Helena, Montana; Mount
St. Helens, with all its residue. Think
of Ellen Glasgow; Eleni (marvelous non-
fiction by Nicholas Gage). Think of all
those Arthurian Elaines, easy to mix up.
What about Lainie Kazan—she's a Helen too.
Was this the face that launched a thousand
ships? Yes, all of them bearing her name.
...

on the campus of the University
of California at San Diego
among endearing neighbors:
Geisel Library, named for Dr.
Seuss, and cheek by jowl
with John Muir College,
named for the
pioneer naturalist and
ur-ecologist. Niki de
Saint Phalle fecit
1983. Curiously,
Sun God manages
to look both matte
and shiny at the
same time. It is a toy.
A man. A bird.
A woman, a bat.
It evokes Calder in its
"plain speaking." It
evokes poster paint.
Made of fiberglass,
its innards
mask a steel frame
in the public sculpture
garden, because what
is more public than light.
O, Sun God, shine
on us, we are
covered in gold leaf.
...

Information delayed. Information withheld.
Saturation with info, useless and helpful blended. Plot
not "completed." Size and significance of events
unemphatic: far too much attention paid to
tiny subjects. Option on funny noises.
Order of info homogeneous. Litotes, a Greek god,
Litotes of Lacedaemonia. Why isn't this boring?
Do I need this info? It changes all the time,
doesn't repeat itself, it only almost does.
What is a "conditional honorific"?
Randomness and inductive method, both at once.
"So what?" is a valuable question to ask. Frame story,
like Taming of the Shrew, but W.S. didn't
finish the frame! A is really a pretext for B. B is what counts.
...

Can you imagine
what is true, that
smack in the middle
of making The Magic
Flute he interrupted
himself to make
"Ave Verum Corpus,"
world's most truth-telling
motet (Who made its
text? Maybe a pope),
then got himself on
track, back to TMF
(all the while dealing
with money worry and
sickness of wife). When
you get to the esto nobis
cadence in "AVC," you
scale the spine of the
European Enlightenment;
when you get to the
idiotic "Three Faithful
Youths" chorus in TMF:

"Three faithful youths we now will lend you
Upon your journey they'll attend you;
Though young in years, these youths so fair
Heed the words of wisdom rare!"

you're dealing with
Bertie Wooster's
three best friends.
Because he was Mozart,
not a problem.
...

You see them through water and glass,
(both liquids) and through air
with plenty of liquid in it
—water is moving through the air—
you see the large dolphins animated,
unfractious in their native
drink, going
back and forth interacting with
some sort of rings—in a minute-long video—
in a loop, we see these
dolphins again and again
looping through rings,
in indirect discourse
ringing through the loops.
We see, you see, dolphins
advertising something
we don't have and
we don't want; advertising
exfoliants and astringents,
humectants,
which dolphins don't
know about and wouldn't
want if they did, the
sloe-eyed ones. They
make us feel free,
silent. "Nature film,
nature film!" See them
in their independence
through water and glass articulating
dolphin home truths.
...

Long jetty, long shell-racked jetty, cracked warped planks.

Beautiful fish, beautiful sea-bass poached with an August tomato, on an ironstone plate.

A snake's slough, a snake's spinal cord, a dry-rot stump.

A twill tape measure, an audiotape cassette unspooled and puckered, shining.

Agate prayer beads, kazoos, whistles, rattles.

A bike-chain and a bungy cord. A moebius strip and a broccoli elastic.

Split vanilla pod inset with paltry-looking flat oily brown seeds.

Egg-and-dart molding of vitreous fake sandstone. Contrails, mares' tails, mackerel sky.
...

I packed up the books: Under
Milk Wood, Of
Mice and Men, Under
the Window, Under
the Volcano, Up
from Slavery, The Thunder-
ing Herd, Under
the Greenwood Tree, The Over-
Coat, The Changing Light at Sandover,
Under-
world, Out
of Africa, Paris Trout;

and I went over
to the Under-
woods' house over
on River Road. Over-
head the blackness of
clouds out-
paced a fleeing sun. Out
and up
the clouds rolled, roiled up,
wrung out
in horrendous rain over
and over.

I had agreed over
coffee one day to farm out
lots of books people were giving over
to the library book sale over
at the high school. Under
the agreement, volunteers took books over
to the Underwoods' over
spring break. I was up
for this, and signed up.
Over
I drove, up
the Cross Road, and turned up

River Road. I walked up
the Underwoods' driveway and over
the lawn. The voice of Dawn Up-
shaw drifted up
from a CD player, and out
on the screen porch was John Up-
dike's new book of essays, next to the Up-
anishads. Under
the lilacs, under
the clematis, climbing up
trellises of
lath, of

ironwork, of
wicker, blossoms hardly held up
their heads. Of
course, of
course; but the storm that had crushed them was over.
Pools of
water, of
mud were all around. The Underwoods' cookout
was a washout,
but the sun of
a glowing afternoon under-
cut the thunder.

The Under-
woods took all the discarded books out
of the trunk of my car, and then dove them (with lots of other books) over
to the high school, where these books were put up
for sale for the benefit of the Westport Free Public Library, a generous act
which the Underwoods should be proud of.
...

His heart keeps him awake while he's asleep.
He listens to his heart while he falls asleep in bed.
His artificial heart gives him insomnia.
As long as I can hear the sound, I know I'm here.

His heart keeps him alive while he's asleep.
My heart helps me to sleep while I'm alive.
Oh, patient, this Valentine is for you.

I had no choice, I knew that I was dying.
We are trying to survive. We are standing on the shoulders
of the makers of the heart while we lie on our back in bed.
They walk with their hearts on their sleeves and their noses to the grindstone.
He listens to his heart while he falls asleep at night.

Oh, Valentine, this contraption is for you,
device of the sacred, the sacred heart.
It feels heavy to me- it makes a constant whir
which keeps me awake when I'm trying to get to sleep.
It has no heartbeat, only this constant whir.
...