How It Is (4 page)

the sack when it’s empty my sack a possession this word faintly hissing brief void
and finally apposition anomaly anomaly a sack here my sack when it’s empty bah I’ve
lashings of time centuries of time

centuries I can see me quite tiny the same as now more or less only tinier quite tiny
no more objects no more food and I live the air sustains me the mud I live on

the sack again other connexions I take it in my arms talk to it put my head in it
rub my cheek on it lay my lips on it turn my back on it turn to it again clasp it
to me again say to it thou thou

say say part one no sound the syllables move my lips and all around all the lower
that helps me understand

that’s the speech I’ve been given part one before Pim question do I use it freely
it’s not said or I don’t hear it’s one or the other all I hear is that a witness I’d
need a witness

he lives bent over me that’s the life he has been given all my visible surface bathing
in the light of his lamps when I go he follows me bent in two

his aid sits a little aloof he announces brief movements of the lower face the aid
enters it in his ledger

my hand won’t come words won’t come no word not even soundless I’m in need of a word
of my hand dire need I can’t they won’t that too

deterioration of the sense of humour fewer tears too that too they are failing too
and there another image yet another a boy sitting on a bed in the dark or a small
old man I can’t see with his head be it young or be it old his head in his hands I
appropriate
that heart

question am I happy in the present still such ancient things a little happy on and
off part one before Pim brief void and barely audible no no I would feel it and brief
apostil barely audible not made not really for happiness unhappiness peace of mind

rats no no rats this time I’ve sickened them what else at this period part one before
Pim vast stretch of time

the hand dips clawing for the take instead of the familiar slime an arse on his belly
he too before that what else that’s enough I’m going

not the shit not the vomit something else I’m going the sack tied to my neck I’m ready
first thing free play for the leg which leg brief void and barely audible the right
it’s preferable

I turn on my side which side the left it’s preferable throw the right hand forward
bend the right knee these joints are working the fingers sink the toes sink in the
slime these are my holds too strong slime is too strong holds is too strong I say
it as I hear it

push pull the leg straightens the arm bends all these joints are working the head
arrives alongside the hand flat on the face and rest

the other side left leg left arm push pull the head and upper trunk rise clear reducing
friction correspondingly fall back I crawl in an amble ten yards fifteen yards halt

sleep duration of sleep I wake how much nearer the last

a fancy I am given a fancy the panting stops and a breath-clock breath of life head
in the bag oxygen for half an hour wake when you choke repeat five times six times
that’s enough now I know I’m rested my strength restored the day can begin these scraps
barely audible of a fantasy

always sleepy little sleep that’s how they’re trying to tell me this time sucked down
spewed up yawning yawning always sleepy little sleep

this voice once quaqua then in me when the panting stops part three after Pim not
before not with I have journeyed found Pim lost Pim it is over I am in part three
after Pim how it was how it is I say it as I hear it natural order more or less bits
and scraps in the mud my life murmur it to the mud

I learn it natural order more or less before Pim with Pim vast tracts of time how
it was my vanished life then after then now after Pim how it is my life bits and scraps

I say it my life as it comes natural order my lips move I can feel them it comes out
in the mud my life what remains ill-said ill-recaptured when the panting stops ill-murmured
to the mud in the present all that things so ancient natural order the journey the
couple the abandon all that in the present barely audible bits and scraps

I have journeyed found Pim lost Pim it’s over that life those periods of that life
first second now third pant pant the panting stops and I hear barely audible how I
journey with my sack my tins in the dark the mud crawl in an amble towards Pim unwitting
bits and scraps in the present things so ancient hear them murmur them as they come
barely audible to the mud

part one before Pim the journey it can’t last it lasts I’m calm calmer you think you’re
calm and you’re not in the lowest depths and you’re on the edge I say it as I hear
it and that death death if it ever comes that’s all it dies

it dies and I see a crocus in a pot in an area in a basement a saffron the sun creeps
up the wall a hand keeps it in the sun this yellow flower with a string I see the
hand long image hours long the sun goes the pot goes down lights on the ground the
hand goes the wall goes

rags of life in the light I hear and don’t deny don’t believe don’t say any more who
is speaking that’s not said any more it must have ceased to be of interest but words
like now before Pim no no that’s not said only mine my words mine alone one or two
soundless brief movements all the lower no sound when I can that’s the difference
great confusion

I see all sizes life included if that’s mine the light goes on in the mud the prayer
the head on the table the crocus the old man in tears the tears behind the hands skies
all sorts different sorts on land and sea blue of a sudden gold and green of the earth
of a sudden in the mud

but words like now words not mine before Pim no no that’s not said that’s the difference
I hear it between then and now one of the differences among the similarities

the words of Pim his extorted voice he stops I step in all the needful he starts again
I could listen to him for ever but mine have done with mine natural order before Pim
the little I say no sound the little I see of a life I don’t deny don’t believe but
what believe the sack perhaps the dark the mud death perhaps to wind up with after
so much life there are moments

how I got here if it’s me no question too weak no interest but here this place where
I begin this time present formulation part one my life clutch the sack it drips first
sign this place a few scraps

you are there somewhere alive somewhere vast stretch of time then it’s over you are
there no more alive no more then again you are there again alive again it wasn’t over
an error you begin again all over more or less in the same place or in another as
when another image above in the light you come to in hospital in the dark

the same as which which place it’s not said or I don’t hear it’s one or the other
the same more or less more humid fewer gleams no gleam what does that mean that I
was once somewhere where there were gleams I say it as I hear it every word always

more humid fewer gleams no gleam and hushed the dear sounds pretext for speculation
I must have slipped you are in the depths it’s the end you have ceased you slip you
continue

another age yet another familiar in spite of its strangenesses this sack this slime
the mild air the black dark the coloured images the power to crawl all these strangenesses

but progress properly so called ruins in prospect as in the dear tenth century the
dear twentieth that you might say to yourself to a dream greenhorn ah if you had seen
it four hundred years ago what upheavals

ah my young friend this sack if you had seen it I could hardly drag it and now look
my vertex touches the bottom

and I not a wrinkle not one

at the end of the myriads of hours an hour mine a quarter of an hour there are moments
it’s because I have suffered must have suffered morally hoped more than once despaired
to match your heart bleeds you lose your heart drop by drop weep even an odd tear
inward no sound no more images no more journeys no more hunger or thirst the heart
is going you’ll soon be there I hear it there are moments they are good moments

paradise before the hoping from sleep I come to sleep return between the two there
is all all the doing suffering failing bungling achieving until the mud yawns again
that’s how they’re trying to tell me this time part one before Pim from one sleep
to the next

then Pim the lost tins the groping hand the arse the two cries mine mute the birth
of hope on with it get it over have it behind me feel the heart going hear it said
you’re nearly there

be with Pim have been with Pim have him behind me hear it said he’ll come back another
will come better than Pim he’s coming right leg right arm push pull ten yards fifteen
yards you stay quiet where you are in the dark the mud and on you suddenly a hand
like yours on Pim two cries his mute

you will have a little voice it will be barely audible you will whisper in his ear
you will have a little life you will whisper it in his ear it will be different quite
different quite a different music you’ll see a little like Pim a little life music
but in your mouth it will be new to you

then go for good and no goodbyes that age will be over all the ages or merely you
no more journeys no more couples no more abandons ever again anywhere hear that

how it was before Pim first say that natural order the same things the same things
say them as I hear them murmur them to the mud divide into three a single eternity
for the sake of clarity I wake and off I go all life part one before Pim how it was
leaving only with Pim how it was leaving only after Pim how it was how it is when
the panting stops bits and scraps I wake off I go my day my life part one bits and
scraps

asleep I see me asleep on my side or on my face it’s one or the other on my side it’s
preferable which side the right it’s
preferable
the sack under my head or clasped to my belly clasped to my belly the knees drawn
up the back bent in a hoop the tiny head near the knees curled round the sack Belacqua
fallen over on his side tired of waiting forgotten of the hearts where grace abides
asleep

I know not what insect wound round its treasure I come back with empty hands to me
to my place what to begin with ask myself that last a moment with that

what to begin my long day my life present formulation last a moment with that coiled
round my treasure listening my God to have to murmur that

twenty years a hundred years not a sound and I listen not a gleam and I strain my
eyes four hundred times my only season I clasp the sack closer to me a tin clinks
first respite very first from the silence of this black sap

something wrong there

the mud never cold never dry it doesn’t dry on me the air laden with warm vapour of
water or some other liquid I sniff the air smell nothing a hundred years not a smell
I sniff the air

nothing dries I clutch the sack first real sign of life it drips a tin clinks my hair
never dry no electricity impossible fluff it up I comb it that can happen there’s
another object straight back there’s another of my resources was once not now any
more part three there’s another difference

the morale at the outset before things got out of hand
satisfactory
ah the soul I had in those days the equanimity that’s why they gave me a companion

it’s still my day part one before Pim my life present formulation the very beginning
bits and scraps I come back to me to my place in the dark the mud clutch the sack
a tin clinks I make ready I’m going end of the journey

to speak of happiness one hesitates those awful syllables first asparagus burst abscess
but good moments yes I assure you before Pim with Pim after Pim vast tracts of time
good moments say what I may less good too they must be expected I hear it I murmur
it no sooner heard dear scraps recorded
somewhere
it’s preferable someone listening another noting or the same never a plaint an odd
tear inward no sound a pearl vast tracts of time natural order

suddenly like all that happens to be hanging on by the
fingernails
to one’s species that of those who laugh too soon alpine image or speluncar atrocious
moment it’s here words have their utility the mud is mute

here then this ordeal before I go right leg right arm push pull ten yards fifteen
yards towards Pim unwitting before that a tin clinks I fall last a moment with that

enough indeed nearly enough when you come to think of it to make you laugh feel yourself
falling and hang on with a squeak brief movements of the lower face no sound if you
could come to think of it of what you nearly lost and then this splendid mud the panting
stops and I hear it barely audible enough to make you laugh soon and late if you could
come to think of it

escape hiss it’s air of the little that’s left of the little whereby man continues
standing laughing weeping and speaking his mind nothing physical the health is not
in jeopardy a word from me and I am again I strain with open mouth so as not to lose
a second a fart fraught with meaning issuing through the mouth no sound in the mud

it comes the word we’re talking of words I have some still it would seem at my disposal
at this period one is enough aha signifying mamma impossible with open mouth it comes
I let it at once or in extremis or between the two there is room to spare aha signifying
mamma or some other thing some other sound barely audible signifying some other thing
no matter the first to come and restore me to my dignity

passing time is told to me and time past vast tracts of time the panting stops and
scraps of an enormous tale as heard so murmured to this mud which is told to me natural
order part three it’s there I have my life

my life natural order more or less in the present more or less part one before Pim
how it was things so ancient the journey last stage I come back to me to my place
clutch the sack it drips a tin clinks loss of species one word no sound it’s the beginning
of my life present formulation I can go pursue my life it will still be a man