From the Devil's Trill Sonata

DAVID SHAPIRO

From THE DEVIL'S TRILL SONATA

You clamp the rifle and release the bullet

And you know that it will always reach the target

And the ferryboat sails straight across the river:

It feels normal in the still air.

What course must the aviator set

On a level road when the day is wet?

The tracks of the raindrops on the window

Are dropped from the bridge by a boy.

You place a smooth box down like a stone

And you rest on your own inclined plane.

A stone is seen to pass through the window

But now the stone is snow.

We have so few red flowers

The stem hangs over the edge of the table

The flower leaves the stem like an aviator

Or like the man in the elevator.

The milkweed fills the sky

Which is small, pale blue, and almost white

Like the game lit up at night.

"We have reached the bottom, you and I."

Half-divine, half-raw, half-German, half-Greek

Time now for an excursus to the centre of all this muddy

junk |

I gaze into the hilarious sky where flowers gather

unknowingly

The last row in a theatre of stars.

Dear cloud, free from moral guilt,

I see you dragged like a heap of small sacrificial cakes or

swerve

Streets tarry in one place, and satirical teeth bite and

corrode

Stinging clouds are worse

Oh clouds I fall fighting against the whole Persian army

A pond's another place where streetlights delight to roll

in gewgaws and larvae

Andromeda, make steady my steps

You who had but lately begun to exist, who existed

formerly

The sun is hot and scalds the little day.

The plane sails up, stalls slightly, drops its nose in a dive

Into a barrel of dimes.

What tree always has a partner?

What flower do most people go far to avoid?

You are beginning to find a bed very boring

Yet you are not allowed to sit up more than an hour at a

time.

Mother stands straight up at Green's Five and Ten Cent

store.

A supply of white floating soap, and you are all ready

to carve up

This tray holds all I need;

It's a nice clean occupation.

But I am not sure what these incalculable beasts may do.

You need a ticket of admission to my rooms.

Naomi and I make up contrite items and float them down

the stairs.

You are lying on your back in the honeysuckles-

choking.

My entire life was being decided by five nincompoops.

Father says, I will get you a glass of water

If you will bring me a leaf from the linden.

So you ran to the linden tree, crying Dear linden, dear

linden,

Give me one of your leaves. ,

We must keep this heat.

That is, we let our clothes get cold instead of ourselves.

Three shirts are warmer than the whole out-of-doors

And the soft inside part of the house. Because we are half

air ourselves.

What is the difference between a cloud and a spanked boy?

Dear Sky, we who are about to slide (on ice) salute you.

I take my snowy map and look at one country for three

minutes

Only a minute to go; that's not asking much of your

memory.

Up goes the curtain; Columbus discovers America.

In this story your hands play the part of empty barns.

Up goes the curtain; Cornwallis surrenders at Yorktown.

You open your hand to show the five sheep sleeping

safely under the tree, which ladies wear around their

necks,