THE MONKEY
What would you think of one who spent his time, his energy,
and all his
hopes on the project of teaching a monkey to talk? There he is, tearing
at
his hair, muttering to himself, looking deep into the monkey’s
eyes, scanning
its face for signs that would justify the optimism he knows he will
soon begin to feel, whatever he sees in the monkey’s eyes or face
or abrupt
but graceful gestures. His optimism is reliable, for he loves the monkey.
It
is reliable, though he hates the monkey. He hates himself. He wonders
if
his hatred or some weariness or occasional light-headedness is what stands
in the way of the monkey’s speech. He suffers reveries of the monkey’s
first
word. He sleeps, exhausted, and dreams that the monkey is speaking, but
in some unintelligible language. He awakens wearily. A gorgeous light
is at
the window, severely gray, a harsh light, yet subtly, soothingly pink.
He
heaves himself up in bed, wondering if indeed the light has precisely
this
tinge. He sees the objects in his bedroom with a clarity that is new
to him.
The peculiar sharpness of his vision gives the moment a convincing
weight. He loves the light. He loves the faculty of vision for having
delivered
this moment to him. Then he wonders if he did truly love the
moment, the light of the moment that now is gone. Of course it’s
gone.
That’s obvious, but no more obvious in this dreary light than the
truth that
he no longer loves the moment, or any moment, not of his life, anyway,
and
he wonders if his treacherous infatuation with that gaudy, fleeting,
delusive
moment, that moment that never really occurred, he is now convinced,
has
so effectively deadened his feelings for the monkey that, now, in this
moment of grainy gray despair there is no longer any point in hoping
that
someday the creature will talk.
SNAKE EYES ARE BLIND
Steering suckers to fat cat Bertram Sullivan’s clip joint, smalltime
hustler
Billy Williams dreams of bigger things. He wants to be a major promoter,
a maker and breaker of careers. Ignoring the advice of his big-hearted
girlfriend,
Jean Jones, he embarks on a series of shady adventures, always in
the hope of finding his way around the next corner in the nocturnal
labyrinth of the major metropolis where he plays out the frantic scenario
of a desperate life. Always suave, sometimes sinister, Billy is a mixture
of
wised-up hustler and naïve dreamer. Whether he is pulling strings
to fix a
summons, as a favor to his boss, Mr. Sullivan, or acting as a go-between
in
a drug deal always threatening to go bad, or cozying up to a chanteuse
who
might, just maybe, be his ticket to the big time, Billy Williams is a
riveting
presence, an embodiment of all that has enthralled us ever since night
fell
and we realized that we, too, are creatures of the darkness.
—
CARTER RATCLIFF’s books of poetry include Fever
Coast and Give
Me Tomorrow.
Arrivederci, Modernismo will be published by Libellum Press later this
year.
A contributing editor of Art in America, he writes frequently about American
and
European art.
For the complete article purchase The
Sienese Shredder #1
Also by Carter Ratcliff
With Richard Hennessy - A Conversation
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