Upload
karl-johnson
View
214
Download
2
Embed Size (px)
Citation preview
Trustees of Boston University
The View from the ZenithAuthor(s): KARL JOHNSONSource: Arion, Third Series, Vol. 17, No. 3 (WINTER 2010), pp. 49-53Published by: Trustees of Boston UniversityStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40646002 .
Accessed: 12/06/2014 20:38
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
.
Trustees of Boston University is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Arion.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
The View from the Zenith
KARL JOHNSON
Silver Jubilee
"Girl way beyond my league!" did you tell yourself Back then in schooldays? "Archery MVP,
Sharp edge that no jerk wants to fool with, Faster than varsity boys cross-country"?
You still were not scared off but were drawn to me. Heart-stolen boy, so blatant! Those Saturdays
We'd share the morning watching bluebirds, Chickadees, nesting-routines of house wrens -
Bird life you loved, but what made you blushable? Me, my protective impulse for Small Ones' life.
Yes, I recall your glow that time I Chased terrain-bikers from where the fawns hid.
Just once you saw firsthand that I liked to hunt. I angled downhill stalking that gorgeous buck
(No weapons, clean fun), sneaked back up and Pounced where you waited. You got embarrassed.
All senior year, you knew that my special crowd -
Shy girls who learned I'd safeguard their secrets, and Kids tired of unkind epithets, and
Boys cutely wild enough - called me Alpha.
Un jealous boy, just thinking in different terms, You sent a note which throned me in Keats's ode,
That sentence . . . Queen-Moon thronged by courtiers Clustered around me like stars You meant well.
ARION I7.3 WINTER 2OIO
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
50 THE VIEW FROM THE ZENITH
Once, you confessed full moon made you think of me, Backtracked and found safe words: "You don't compromise,
You know your own flight path for certain, Light your own way and don't need permission."
Girl way beyond safe words? Beyond worshipful Grown boys who'd gone no further than puppy love,
Who couldn't guess she might be dating Purposeful wolves or have pets she favored.
Not all who had fun love anniversaries! At class reunion now - reconnecting when
You've seen the crossroads sign "To Midlife" - Please don't discuss me for reappraisal!
Was I your queene and huntresse the chaste and faire? Don't learn the facts now, Retro- Actaeon. I
Took Alpha's share, took full advantage. Few were the Saturday nights I didn't.
I stared the risks down twenty-five years ago. Let's leave your queen safe, right where she always shone,
Unclouded silver. Small Ones learn there's Time to be active and time for silence.
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Karl Johnson 51
Horace's Bookends
Dedication In the Right Place at the Right Time
Great-grandson of the royal line - you, Maecenas, are My guard tower. You're the royal accolade tapping me.
Racetrack turns and red-hot wheels and Olympic dust, Palm-crowned victories . . . "world champions" are raised
to gods. Unpredictable votes, mob of Rome's citizens, Three-stage climb to the top rank . . . that's another route. Wealth gets there: like the grain-dealing monopolist Who sweeps up every last seed from North Africa.
Unseafaring men, sea-fearing men cultivate Quite contentedly those acres their fathers did. Not gem deals with a jeweled mogul of Asia would Budge these lubbers to hoe water near Crete with a Cypriot boat! In the splash-down zone of Icarus, Sea-lane traders themselves, too, lose their nerve when the Southwest, African wind fights the Cycladic waves. "Hometown! Countryside! Calm life! But the poverty ... ?" They fix up any storm damage and sail again.
Someone guzzles by cupfuls the Falernian ("Thanks, don't mind if I do"), loses no opportune Snoozetime, sprawled for a half-day in arbutus groves Some call "strawberry trees," else at god-tranquil springs. Men more commonly love stimulant bugle calls, Troop encampments and those battles their mothers hate. Out on-trail under cold heavens, a hunter may
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
52 THE VIEW FROM THE ZENITH
Think not once of his wife, even a newlywed, So fixated on some deer that his hounds have seen, Some wild Marsian boar slashing his nets apart.
In my case the reward - ivy, the poets' crown - Lets me mingle with gods; find in the cool of woods Far off, not among crowds, nymphean-satyrish Ring-dance levity, flute tunes that Euterpe may Set loose, lyrics for unshy Polyhymnia's Sapphic lyre - either Muse might disinhibit me.
Head held high, when the bards go marching in I may Slam head-on into stars - ranked among bards by you.
Horace, Odes i.i
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
Karl Johnson 53
Envoi Beyond Time and Place
I've now finished a more lasting memorial than Bronze. Pyramidal royal burials achieve no such Height. No frustrated North Wind nor erosive rain Nor infinity's timeline of the years, of the Swift-flown seasons or eons, can degrade my work. Death shall not be complete: much of my being will Slip past funeral rites. Such is my future, that While Rome's pontiffs and mute vestals climb Jupiter's Steps, young Horace will keep gaining celebrity. In Apulia, where violent Aufidus Flows so noisily, where Daunus the Drought-Stricken Once ruled over the farm people - they'll speak of my Dirt-farm origins, my lyrical power as the First transposer in our key of Aeolian song, Greek stanzaic techniques into Italian style - First! Melpomene, accept my bid's arrogance, Grant I'm worth Delphic leaves, crown me as laureate.
Horace, Odes 3.30
This content downloaded from 62.122.79.56 on Thu, 12 Jun 2014 20:38:27 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions