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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431913" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Anastasia & Sandman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The brow of a horse in that moment when<br>The horse is drinking water so deeply from a trough<br>It seems to inhale the water, is holy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I refuse to explain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the horse had gone the water in the trough, <br>All through the empty summer,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Went on reflecting clouds &amp; stars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The horse cropping grass in a field, <br>And the fly buzzing around its eyes, are more real <br>Than the mist in one corner of the field.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or the angel hidden in the mist, for that matter.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Members of the Committee on the Ineffable,<br>Let me illustrate this with a story, &amp; ask you all<br>To rest your heads on the table, cushioned,<br>If you wish, in your hands, &amp;, if you want,<br>Comforted by a small carton of milk<br>To drink from, as you once did, long ago,<br>When there was only a curriculum of beach grass,<br>When the University of Flies was only a distant humming.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In Romania, after the war, Stalin confiscated<br>The horses that had been used to work the fields.<br>&quot;You won't need horses now,&quot; Stalin said, cupping<br>His hand to his ear, &quot;Can't you hear the tractors<br>Coming in the distance? I hear them already.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The crowd in the Callea Victoria listened closely<br>But no one heard anything. In the distance<br>There was only the faint glow of a few clouds.<br>And the horses were led into boxcars &amp; emerged<br>As the dimly remembered meals of flesh<br>That fed the starving Poles<br>During that famine, &amp; part of the next one-- <br>In which even words grew thin &amp; transparent,<br>Like the pale wings of ants that flew<br>Out of the oldest houses, &amp; slowly<br>What had been real in words began to be replaced<br>By what was not real, by the not exactly real.<br>&quot;Well, not exactly, but. . .&quot; became the preferred<br>Administrative phrasing so that the man<br>Standing with his hat in his hands would not guess<br>That the phrasing of a few words had already swept<br>The earth from beneath his feet. &quot;That horse I had,<br>He was more real than any angel,<br>The housefly, when I had a house, was real too,&quot;<br>Is what the man thought.<br>Yet it wasn't more than a few months<br>Before the man began to wonder, talking<br>To himself out loud before the others,<br>&quot;Was the horse real? Was the house real?&quot;<br>An angel flew in and out of the high window<br>In the factory where the man worked, his hands<br>Numb with cold. He hated the window &amp; the light<br>Entering the window &amp; he hated the angel.<br>Because the angel could not be carved into meat<br>Or dumped into the ossuary &amp; become part<br>Of the landfill at the edge of town,<br>It therefore could not acquire a soul,<br>And resembled in significance nothing more<br>Than a light summer dress when the body has gone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man survived because, after a while, <br>He shut up about it.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stalin had a deep understanding of the kulaks, <br>Their sense of marginalization &amp; belief in the land;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That is why he killed them all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Members of the Committee on Solitude, consider<br>Our own impoverishment &amp; the progress of that famine,<br>In which, now, it is becoming impossible<br>To feel anything when we contemplate the burial,<br>Alive, in a two-hour period, of hundreds of people.<br>Who were not clich&eacute;s, who did not know they would be<br>The illegible blank of the past that lives in each<br>Of us, even in some guy watering his lawn</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a summer night. Consider</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The death of Stalin &amp; the slow, uninterrupted<br>Evolution of the horse, a species no one,<br>Not even Stalin, could extinguish, almost as if<br>What could not be altered was something<br>Noble in the look of its face, something</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Incapable of treachery.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then imagine, in your planning proposals,<br>The exact moment in the future when an angel<br>Might alight &amp; crawl like a fly into the ear of a horse,<br>And then, eventually, into the brain of a horse,<br>And imagine further that the angel in the brain<br>Of this horse is, for the horse cropping grass<br>In the field, largely irrelevant, a mist in the corner<br>Of the field, something that disappears,<br>The horse thinks, when weight is passed through it,<br>Something that will not even carry the weight<br>Of its own father<br>On its back, the horse decides, &amp; so demonstrates<br>This by swishing at a fly with its tail, by continuing<br>To graze as the dusk comes on &amp; almost until it is night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Old contrivers, daydreamers, walking chemistry sets,<br>Exhausted chimneysweeps of the spaces<br>Between words, where the Holy Ghost tastes just<br>Like the dust it is made of,<br>Let's tear up our lecture notes &amp; throw them out<br>The window.<br>Let's do it right now before wisdom descends upon us<br>Like a spiderweb over a burned-out theater marquee,<br>Because what's the use?<br>I keep going to meetings where no one's there,<br>And contributing to the discussion;<br>And besides, behind the angel hissing in its mist<br>Is a gate that leads only into another field,<br>Another outcropping of stones &amp; withered grass, where<br>A horse named Sandman &amp; a horse named Anastasia<br>Used to stand at the fence &amp; watch the traffic pass.<br>Where there were outdoor concerts once, in summer,<br>Under the missing &amp; innumerable stars.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Larry+Levis">Larry Levis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=431913" data-title="Anastasia & Sandman de Larry Levis" data-description="The brow of a horse in that moment when
The horse is drinking water so deeply from a trough
It seems to inhale the water, is holy.

I refuse to explain.

When the horse had gone the water in the trough, 
All through the empty summer,

Went on refl..."></div>
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