Collected Earlier Poems by Anthony Hecht Read Free Book Online

a blow-job
    Where other men have pissed
    In the little room that’s sacred
    To the Evangelist—
    If you’re inclined that way.
    For myself, I drink and sleep.
    The floor is knotty cedar
    But the beer is flat and cheap.
    And you can bet your life
    I’ll be here another seven.
    Stranger, here’s to my wife,
    Who died and went to heaven.
    She was a famous beauty,
    But
our very breath is loaned
.
    The rabbi’s voice was fruity,
    And since then I’ve been stoned—
    A royal, nonstop bender.
    But your money’s no good here;
    Put it away. Bartender,
    Give my friend a beer.
    I dreamed the other night
    When the sky was full of stars
    That I stood outside a gate
    And looked in through the bars.
    Two angels stood together.
    A purple light was shed
    From their every metal feather.
    And then one of them said,
    “It was pretty much the same
    For years and years and years,
    But since the Christians came
    The place is full of queers.
    Still, let them have their due.
    Things here are far less solemn.
    Instead of each beardy Jew
    Muttering, ‘Shalom, Shalom,’
    There’s a down-to-earth, informal
    Fleshiness to the scene;
    It’s healthier, more normal,
    If you know what I mean.
    Such as once went to Gehenna
    Now dance among the blessed.
    But Mary Magdalena,
    She had it the best.”
    And he nudged his feathered friend
    And gave him a wicked leer,
    And I woke up and fought back
    The nausea with a beer.
    What man shall understand
    The Lord’s mysterious way?
    My tongue is thick with worship
    And whiskey, and some day
    I will come to in Bellevue
    And make psalms unto the Lord.
    But verily I tell you,
    She hath her reward.
IMPROVISATIONS ON AESOP
    1
    1              It was a tortoise aspiring to fly
                    That murdered Aeschylus. All men must die.
    2
    2              The crocodile rends man and beast to death
                    And has St. Francis’ birds to pick his teeth.
    3
    3              Lorenzo sponsored artists, and the ant
                    Must save to give the grasshopper a grant.
    4
    4              The blind man bears the lame, who gives him eyes;
                    Only the weak make common enterprise.
    5
    5              Frogs into bulls, sows’ ears into silk purses,
                    These are our hopes in youth, in age our curses.
    6
    6              Spare not the rod, lest thy child be undone,
                    And at the gallows cry, “Behold thy son.”
    7
    7              The Fox and Buddha put away their lust:
                    “Sour grapes!” they cry, “All but the soul is dust!”
    8
    8              An ass may look at an angel, Balaam was shown;
                    Cudgel thy wits, and leave thine ass alone.
    9
    9              Is not that pastoral instruction sweet
                    Which says who shall be eaten, who shall eat?
THE THOUGHTFUL ROISTERER DECLINES THE GAMBIT
    I’m not going to get myself shot full of holes
    For comparative strangers, like Richelieu or the King;
    I prefer to investigate how a coward may cling
    To the modest ways of simple civilian souls.
    If I couldn’t put down a little bit of the hair
    Of the dog each day, I’d be as good as dead;
    And it’s nothing to me that a man will die in bed
    Or under the table without the
Croix de Guerre
.
    So as far as I’m concerned, you can drop the act
    About the Immortal Fame and Illustrious End.
    I shall die unsung, but with all of me intact,
    Toasting His Noble Majesty and His Grace.
    And if I die by the mouth, believe me, friend,
    It won’t be the cannon’s mouth, in any case.
    ( AFTER CHARLES VION DE DALIBRAY )
GIANT TORTOISE
    I am related to stones
    The slow accretion of moss where dirt is wedged
    Long waxy hair that can split boulders.
    Events are not important.
    I live in my bone
    Recalling