Richibi’s Weblog

     “Blue (Moby Dick)“ (1943) 

            Jackson Pollock

                  _________

                                                            for Gail

my story is nearly incredible, as Herman
Melville would say around his Moby-Dick,
but there you have it, today, I levitated

I’d been leery about broaching the
“Razumovsky” Quartets, their never having
been my favourites, for being both too 
groundbreaking, and not enough, strident
passages with insufficient philosophical 
exploration, and opted all but instinctively   
for the more probing stuff, Beethoven’s  
later transcendental revelations

but how could I talk about string quartets,
I reasoned, the actual focus of my, however, 
apparently peripheral, subject, here, without
tackling, and decidedly, the very best example
of Beethoven’s Middle Period, his Opus 59

there are three works in the “Razumovsky”s,
but after a veritable epiphany, I chose 
the First

my housekeeper had arrived, Proust’s
Françoise, in my poetic imagination, 
a lady who knows my most intimate 
secrets, but tends merely, and 
respectfully, and dutifully, indeed 
blessedly, but to her mission, though 
I entrust her, by extension, I guess,
with aspects, even unconsciously,  
of my very soul

I’d delighted in the second movement
of Beethoven’s 7th String Quartet, the
“Allegretto vivace e sempre scherzando“,
was even singing along, told her I’d get 
the notes right next time, even did a
second turn that she thought better
than the first 

then I realized, after a break, for 
refreshments, that the adagio was about 
to come up, the “Adagio molto e mesto“, 
not to mention its unanticipated “attacca“ 

o my god/dess, I cried, you’re not going
to be ready for this, though I remembered 
nothing of this particular, however 
miraculous, eventually, movement

she remained throughout composed, 
continued diligently her purposes, 
while I, progressively, levitated, left, 
I tell you, the sofa, transcended

wow, I kept exclaiming, as I held on, 
however enthralled, to my seat, Gail,
I screeched, I’m not even touching 
the sofa

she kept on, imperturbably, steadily, 
and conscientiously passing the 
vacuum, while I up and soared

the last glorious movement, the 
“Allegro”, carried me comfortably 
to a satisfying conclusion, enough 
to settle me down enough to touch
the ground in order to pay her
 
which she, ever as graciously and 
discreetly as Françoise might’ve
done, acknowledged

I’ll send you the transcript of my
impressions, I said to her, you’ll 
want to listen, you’ll love it 

listen, you’ll love it

R ! chard