C.D. Wright - Floating Trees

a bed is left open to a mirror
a mirror gazes long and hard at a bed

light fingers the house with its own acoustics

one of them writes this down
one has paper

bed of swollen creeks and theories and coils
bed of eyes and leaky pens

much of the night the air touches arms
arms extend themselves to air

their torsos turning toward a roll
of sound: thunder

night of coon scat and vandalized headstones
night of deep kisses and catamenia

his face by this light: saurian
hers: ash like the tissue of a hornets’ nest

one scans the aisle of firs
the faint blue line of them
one looks out: sans serif

“Didn’t I hear you tell them you were born
on a train”

what begins with a sough and ends with a groan
groan in which the tongue’s true color is revealed

the comb’s sough and the denim’s undeniable rub
the chair’s stripped back and muddied rung

color of stone soup and garden gloves
color of meal and treacle and sphagnum

hangers clinging to their coat
a soft white bulb to its string

the footprints inside us
iterate the footprints outside

the scratched words return to their sleeves

the dresses of monday through friday
swallow the long hips of weekends

a face is studied like a key
for the mystery of what it once opened

“I didn’t mean to wake you
angel brains”

ink of eyes and veins and phonemes
the ink completes the feeling

a mirror silently facing a door
door with no lock no lock

the room he brings into you
the room befalls you

like the fir trees he trues her
she nears him like the firs

if one vanishes one stays
if one stays the other will or will not vanish

otherwise my beautiful green fly
otherwise not a leaf stirs

---

It's another bit of a cheat here. Over in CWC we recently looked at this poem by C.D. Wright and I’ve decided to share the fruits of that discussion here. This is a super abstract piece compared to the vast majority of Wright’s work. But I think it is deceivingly abstract by design. More on that in a bit.

25 stanzas, most of which are couplets. The piece begins very fragmented, jumping between these reciprocating images. The idea of fragmented images is immediately at play in the title. Floating trees is a peculiar title, and it becomes even more peculiar as you read the poem. We’ll learn from the piece that we are looking at fir trees, whose needles go the full length of their trunk. With a healthy fir, you will not see the trunk contact the ground but instead will see a cone of needles floating calmly on the ground. This twist of perspective sets the tone immediately for the abstractions that will be made throughout.

As you read this poem, look for the duality of lines. This is a dance of images in pairs. A dance to mirror the dance of bodies that it represents. In the very first couplet, we are met with a bed opening itself to a mirror and the mirror staring at the bed. You should similarly pick up on an immediate sensualism and sexuality in this piece. I mean, it’s a bed and a mirror followed by light fingering the house. This first portion of the poem is all about sex without ever mentioning the people having sex. That is a masterclass in itself.

The third stanza introduces an additional thread - the theme of writing. One of the two involved is a writer, and sex is intertwined with writing to them. There is an overlap in the satisfaction and therefore a blending of the worlds within the fantastical perspective of the poem.

A quick mention for the alliteration in the sixth stanza. “their torsos turning toward a roll of sound: thunder” That’s just some lovely flexing of craft.

On my first few reads of this piece, I saw it as a one-night stand. However, the more I sat with the seventh stanza, “night of coon scat and vandalized headstones / night of deep kisses and catamenia,” the more I felt like I was missing something. Why the juxtaposition of shit and kisses. Of death and lifeblood? Catamenia is menstrual discharge - this fits the idea of fertility and sexuality, but that first line was weird, at the very least. And then it clicked. Raccoons are latrine species. They return to the same communal location to relieve themselves. They go back to the same old shit, literally. Vandalizing headstones is the desecration of something sacred.

The seventh stanza turns this from plain old sex to a passionate mistake. The eighth doubles down on this. They shouldn’t be doing this (again), yet here they are. They know each other well. He is “saurian” and she is “a hornets’ nest.” They are each dangerous, perhaps specifically for each other, but still they find themselves together.

The ninth is our only tercet in the entire piece. It is also super intentional. The symmetry is disrupted after being reminded of their true selves by the light of truth. Each “one” of them is now literally separated by a “thin blue line”. Yes, like the one found on the page of a notebook. It’s a writer callback, as well.

There are a couple of split lines in this piece. Lines that belong together but have been separated to create a disjointedness that reflects the disjointed nature of this relationship. I skipped the first because I wanted to talk about them all together, and I’m going to skip this one as well. Just note that the quote seems to come out left field for a piece that has given us very little concrete information about our characters.

Stanza eleven tells us how the evening began with a sough (moan) and ended with a groan, this is sexual but now also not so much. “Groan in which the tongue’s true color is revealed,” that color, though never mentioned, is silver. Someone is a slick talker who has worked their way back into a place they never should have been.

We are now significantly less sensual. Stone soup, a reference to the folklore, is tricking people into giving what they are not otherwise willing to share. Treacle is excessive flattery. This twelfth couplet is all about seeing the bullshit talk for what it is.

Things are turned upside down for a moment. The bulb clings to its string, rather than the other way around.

Quick shout out to

Lissa

from CWC for making sense of this next line, because I didn’t catch it at all despite sitting within arm’s length of a turntable while reading and writing most days.

“The scratched words are returned to their sleeves” is the return of records to their sleeves. The end of music and whatever might have come with the music. This single line is actually the end of a split couplet that first introduced music earlier — the bit about fingering light. Nothing remains of the night before now. It is time to clean up and move on.

One of them gets dressed, and looks at the face of the other, confused about what might have led them here again. “Studied like a key / for the mystery of what it once opened.”

Then we get this weird quote again. But it becomes less weird when we realize it is another split. The two bits of dialogue have the same form: a long first line and a short second line. They also rhyme. These are connected thoughts. One of them recounts a story that doesn’t add up with reality, and the other offers a retort about not meaning to let on the ruse. Angel brains is a weird fucking pet name. So the brain part must be very intentional outside of the rhyme. The speaker is stating that they are disappointed the other has figured out their bullshit.

The mirror is no longer facing the bed, the bed is no longer open. The mirror is facing the door, meaning it is time to go. “The room befalls you” pretty much tells you everything you need to know about this encounter.

"If one vanishes one stays” meaning no one is chasing anyone. “If one stays the other will or will not vanish” meaning that there is no bond keeping them together. Their presence is not at all tied to one another.

The final stanza calls back to the raccoon scat. “My beautiful green fly” is another weird term of endearment, until we realize it isn’t. Green flies are found on rotting meat and shit. If you’re calling someone a green fly, you’re implying what they are attracted to, and the truth of this situation you’ve both found yourself in.