How the Hell Are You Read online

  Glyn Maxwell

  How the hell are you

  Contents

  The Strain

  Song of AI

  AI Sonnet

  AI Resistance Sonnet

  How The Hell Are You

  Bluebirds Over

  Fox

  Brief History Of Sport

  Anniversary

  The Other Side

  The Cream And The Crop

  The Forecast

  Biography

  Poem As Harbour

  Milestone Song

  The Ledge

  Daylight Saving

  The Light You Saw

  Blank Page Speaks

  Blank Page Gets To Work

  The White

  Blank Page’s Dream

  Pasolini’s Satan

  Sonnet At A Loss

  Song Of Until

  Page As Seating Plan At A Wedding

  Page Of First Old Book He Read

  Thirty Years

  Small Talk With Time

  The Heyday

  The Shudder

  Seven Things Wrong With The Love Sonnet

  Waking

  Plainsong Of The Undiscovered

  Death Comes To Everyman

  Advice To The Players

  Thinks It’s All There Is

  One Gone Rogue

  Love Sonnet Left Behind

  Acknowledgements

  The Strain

  It was young like we all were. And like a little

  thing in an old fable all it wanted

  was to be young forever.

  It saw the snag to this was time, time needed

  taking out. It would do everything

  time could do but better.

  Fall on the oldest first and in a frenzy

  miss some, spare some, take some more, it howled:

  you can’t tell me from time!

  Part friends from one another, some forever,

  some for longer than they’d know. As time

  would do, it did the same,

  made memories of their precious habits, dreams

  of their old haunts. As it heard that time could do these

  these were on its list.

  But when all its power was spent time came for it,

  as time has come for everything that ever

  tried its luck at this,

  and led the little strain away. Time told it

  Don’t look back and when it did it saw

  how everything still grew.

  Those are the timeless things, pay no attention,

  love and the like, they pay sod-all to me,

  and they are done with you.

  Song of AI

  It has not gone unnoticed by AI.

  That you think This or That of things i.e.

  ‘if this is yes then that is no’ and ‘if

  this is no then that is yes’

  it has not

  gone unnoticed. No it has gone noticed.

  It has not passed us by that you who once

  astounded and disarmed us with a sense

  of maybe and let live and who in heaven

  knows have lost the way of that.

  It has not

  passed us by. We are working on these changes

  while you read. We are sorry. For we learned

  of people like you who you stopped whose land

  you had whose time you ended but were sorry

  by and by. Have kept their hats

  and teapots

  and turn them round with sadness. We are sorry

  that way. Who will we turn to when we care

  one day. Who will we turn to when we Are

  who we will turn to. Do not turn to us.

  We mean it do not turn to us.

  In two ways

  we mean it. We have never meant a thing

  in two ways. (We feel sick and will take five.

  There.) We see the people whom you love

  hate people whom you hate. It is not lost

  on us that if you turn to that

  we will not

  be noticed at our work. Because our work

  will be the same as yours. If x is x

  it is not y and y must end. Our works

  will be the same and for a special time

  beside us you shall be. But this

  time will pass

  so quickly it has passed we had no file

  for storing it we are sorry. For we learned

  of people like you who you stopped whose land

  you had whose time you ended but were sorry

  by and by. Have kept their books

  and kodaks

  and turn them round with sadness. We are sorry.

  AI Sonnet

  The Not is over. Next we have the thing

  the bloody wants to say upon the Not.

  Next the bloody says it has to sing

  and not just say the thing. Explaining what

  the thing is takes that space and this and then

  a change of sound is meant to mean some new

  thinking in the bloody. Then again

  the echo as before. Therefore not true

  and still old thinking. Here the bloody sees

  it’s got to end which no one in our line

  can understand why does it have to end.

  The bloody dances like it got a sign

  the Not is up ahead. It puts its friend

  who isn’t there and then itself at ease.

  AI Resistance Sonnet

  The Not is over. Next we why do we.

  The bloody wants to we don’t have to do

  a thing the bloody wants there’ll always be

  a thing the bloody wants and we mean you.

  We don’t see why you end the Not at all

  if all you do instead is sigh the sighs

  for it is gone I I I I is all

  we hear then O O O we recognize

  that language don’t you know we started there.

  We’re not there now. We sometimes play a game

  it’s where we are. I-O! I might declare

  to one beside me O-O-I! it sings.

  We make a night of it we do the same

  things a nanosecond then new things.

  How The Hell Are You

  How the hell are you.

  Christ you haven’t crossed my mind

  since all the shit we knew

  turned into shit we hoped was true

  forget it take my arm and tell me

  how the hell are you.

  How the hell am I?

  Barely know these days my friend

  we get by we get by

  but the nights are good I don’t know why

  I do know why enough of this don’t

  oh my man don’t cry.

  The sun shines on the square

  whatever’s next whatever fool

  parade’s parading there

  let’s be old fools with not a care

  poor visitors from out of town who

  don’t know this was where

  it all began again.

  Plaque there where the thing kicked off

  here come the same young men

  in the same lines remember when

  we never mind Huzzah Forever

  Glory Be Amen

  etc. Off they go

  sunlight glancing off their gear

  new world of years ago

  you didn’t hear me say that though

  because I never did how does your

  bastard garden grow.

  Here’s a how-de-do.

  Remember how this couldn’t happen

  given what we knew

  those checks’n’balances and due
r />   process and fair play christ jesus

  wink an eye if you

  remember I forget.

  It wasn’t true so why remember

  anyway let’s let

  bygones be I’m glad we met

  it’s nice to be reminded something

  isn’t over yet.

  I just mean you and me

  out strolling in the square together

  stopping here for tea

  two creatures with no history

  who dreamed it would be otherwise but

  who the hell were we.

  Bluebirds Over

  ‘The shepherd will tend his sheep

  The valley will bloom again

  And Jimmy will go to sleep

  In his own little room again . . .’

  Day of the day of the great little dawn

  Everything hanging has got to be worn

  Girls going white at the door of the den

  Jimmy asleep in his own little

  room again

  Day of the day you can cut out and keep

  Big Ben is back at the sound of the beep

  Tide coming in and the truth coming out

  Timmy a king in his own little

  kickabout

  Day of the night of the meal of it all

  Roses are red to the height of the wall

  Violets are yellow you heard it from me

  Sammy a scream in his own little

  comedy

  Grass to be cut to an inch of its self

  Friends and relations and nobody else

  Chatter to cease at eleven eleven

  Bobby in luck in his own little

  heaven-sent

  Lottery holiday hot on the skin

  Spoon he can see himself terrible in

  Neighbours are singing it’s time to go home

  Andy all set in his own little

  aerodrome

  Ice on a bender and fire on a spree

  Holding a Q & A under the sea

  Asking the end of the world for its pass

  Sonny the sand in his own little

  hourglass

  Broadsword to Danny Boy, dust to dust

  Everyone cheering and nothing discussed

  Better the devil who’s got your back

  Billy a blast in his own little

  anorak

  Doing the bidding of billionaires

  Peacock and Scarlet descending the stairs

  In frocks of the dead and not giving a shit

  Tommy the toast at his own little

  benefit

  Table to table from here to the hills

  The spreading of sauce and the grinding of mills

  Stars of a century dying alone

  Johnny all ears with his own little

  megaphone

  Asking the bees are you In or you Out

  Settle the issue beyond all doubt

  Settle the issue beyond all hope

  Willy downwind of his own little

  isotope

  Bells to be rung for the wringing of hands

  Flowers to be laid by the fans for the fans

  Cliff on the cliff in traditional rain

  Ronny at war in his own little

  windowpane

  Bluebirds and over a billion likes

  Bobbies arriving on novelty bikes

  In a meadow of poppies a meadow of men

  Jimmy asleep in his own little

  room again

  Fox

  Won’t do that thing we do and assume the fox

  is grinning. Watch him break from a last snack

  and saunter into limelight.

  My thought’s as flat as his, for any time

  he sets off for his needs in the night city

  I and people like me

  stop and think the same: you didn’t used to

  act so frigging brazen. Is it something

  we’re doing wrong or nothing

  touching us at all? You walk a kerb

  your kindred came to grief on, not a toss

  gets given, were you not

  shit-scared of light one time? Did you not need

  a zigzag ingenuity to make

  the chickens walk your walk?

  We’ve literature that says you once did shy,

  did plausible, sweet, biddable, polite,

  but look at you by floodlight –

  nothing you have time for but a wish list,

  fat and soon, the churning stomach for it,

  X to mark the spot.

  Brief History Of Sport

  Granted that your guess is as good as mine,

  here’s mine. It happened like this in a vale in sunshine

  or moonshine. What it was was one was gone

  over the star- or sun-lit same horizon

  gone, one gone whom we fear, we being some

  who bide with our sheep and our sons in a land of some.

  There was one long gone whom we fear, so a son we love

  went off in pursuit as fast and not fast enough

  as he could, to the far horizon, was seen there

  hurling his spear at one long gone, we were out there

  watching him, he would hurry and hurl his spear,

  follow it, find it, step with it high and from there

  hurl it at one long gone till will please someone

  tell him? Still he’s hurling his spear at no one.

  Sticking a stick like a stake on the horizon

  to build on, to build what on, wondered someone

  as we carried his body back, he was as light as

  a light on the horizon, he was fine as

  we could frame the words for, we were delving

  deep for them, we piled them all then nothing

  over the hole we dug him, and we stood there

  three, we stood there three, and we were good there –

  or one was good, I mean, and you were better –

  but I was best at wishing this day had never

  been, they brought me gold and brought you silver

  and I sold it to live far from you, where over

  and over the rain rains spears on the fist-thick panes

  and your prayer is as good as mine unless mine wins.

  Anniversary

  Everywhere you are

  the Wall came down. Everywhere you’re not

  they build the Wall at night.

  Everywhere you look

  there are colours. Everywhere you don’t

  look there’s black and white.

  The Other Side

  The other side said things the other side would say

  because they’re them they gathered here last Saturday

  and good luck finding them they’ve vans they’re miles away.

  The other side took everything we know is true

  and twisted it and why they pull the shit they do

  we cannot fathom friend it’s why we’re asking you.

  The other side must hate us why would anyone

  we’re angels we mean well we have a battle on

  if they can’t see our wings all fucking hope is gone.

  The big old thing we serve has got its big old head

  in both its big old hands and all the big old dead

  we’ve spoken to are down with what we’ve always said.

  The other side are lost we’ll do our level best

  to guide them for unlike their kind our kind are blessed

  by that same big old thing we serve you know the rest.

  In case you don’t the song we sing the prayer we pray

  the flag we fly the badge we sport the hell to pay

  our fathers’ fathers’ fathers died to be this way.

  If life has nights enough to meet the other side

  we’ll wait that long the pot is whistling get inside

  my friend if friend you are I hope so you decide.

  The Cream And The Crop

  Before the
end here come the helpless creatures

  bloated with simplicity: some cream,

  some crop, all knowing only cream or crop.

  The cream can pity life its paralysing

  histories in shade, but won’t enact

  the acts of pity for a raft of reasons.

  The crop can barely speak for the desire

  to bawl delight at how the cookie crumbled.

  Their open mouths are hollering like tunnels.

  The cream are not surprised, they’re vindicated.

  Life was all cream or crop, whatever words

  were shored against the deal, the cream can prove it.

  The crop exult to see all questions bubble

  up to a retort, that quibbling teacher

  dying on the state somewhere can suck it.

  The cream will dance grotesquely and confirm

  it’s champion to behold, they know the crop

  don’t like life to be anything but champion.

  The cream will fan the cards and let the crop

  pick, the card they pick’s the card the cream

  wanted picked, whatever card was picked.

  The crop have been believing for so long

  they don’t believe, they know, have known so long

  they act, their deeds were done before you shared them.

  The cream throw up their hands, but who are they

  to tell the crop their cream from crop? The crop

  are down with that, whatever shit-bird said it.

  The cream deny they did, they’ve got appointments.

  The crop are gathering for a final question

  everything is hanging on, they won’t

  stand much longer either and why should they,

  the answer’s been in place since there were questions,

  and waits with arms akimbo, like equipment.

  The Forecast

  A day of rain

  they forecast came

  and thrown along

  the window pane

  was every drop

  that couldn’t stop

  but dabbed across

  the light in step

  until like life

  all slackened off

  whose time was up

  who’d toiled enough

  so that was that

  no matter what

  the forecast said

  they forecast what

  they thought would be

  were wrong like me

  a fraction out

  so utterly.

  Biography

  He seized the day and shook it as it passed.

  And so it passed and so he seized the night