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The Art of Navigation
He set black and white on fire.
as the marriage we find ourselves
dismantling. Without leaves
or branches to create perspective,
trunk and sky, shape and space, equilibrate（平衡，相称）
in the same plane, a balance of black
on white, white on black,
in 1949, on a Bell-Optican projector,
crosscut of a junk-shop wooden rocker
he loved to paint as much as he loved
and painted his wife Elizabeth, Elizabeth
already lost then in her dark refrain.
When he saw himself in a book
she gave him -- Nijinsky as Petrouchka --
Franz painted that face to its grave. Over
and again he laid the dancer down, poor
swallowed soul, cheeks pinched（压紧的，痛苦的） hollow,
hatband, lidless eyes eyeing nothing
but his own foreshortened depths.
until the facts of the matter distilled
unconcerned with finish --
Elizabeth, Elizabeth --
the same dark refrain（叠句，副歌） --
But today the tree crew returns
to finish the job. One shimmies
up rope to test what's solid or void, and log
the byproduct for winter. Now he shouts
high on the bare trunk, resting up,
absorbing the sun's heat: this time of year
they route their way by warmth --
Some paths depend on abstraction
who knows how invisible lines
line the visible better than an old
sight-gagged clown? So teach, you paint-
any other way. Teach me to read maps
in the cadmium and singe-veined flakes
of monarchs brush-fired and dispersed
on a breeze, in the tree that
with the lightest of gestures,
like a finger touched against flesh,
the chainsaw opens, ring after ring.
-- in memory of Larry Levis
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