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Colloquy in Black Rock

Written by: Robert Lowell | Biography
 | Quotes (9) |
Here the jack-hammer jabs into the ocean;
My heart, you race and stagger and demand
More blood-gangs for your nigger-brass percussions,
Till I, the stunned machine of your devotion,
Clanging upon this cymbal of a hand,
Am rattled screw and footloose.
All discussions End in the mud-flat detritus of death.
My heart, beat faster, faster.
In Black Mud Hungarian workmen give their blood For the martyrs Stephen who was stoned to death.
Black Myd, a name to conjure with: O mud For watermelons gutted to the crust, Mud for the mole-tide harbor, mud for mouse, Mud for teh armored Diesel fishing tubs that thud A year and a day to wind and tide; the dust Is on this skipping heart that shakes my house, House of our Savior who was hanged till death.
My heart, beat faster, faster.
In Black Mud Stephen the martyre was broken down to blood: Our ransom is the rubble of his death.
Christ walks on the black water.
In Black Mud Darts the kingfisher.
On Corpus Christi, heart, Over the drum-beat of St.
Stephen's choir I hear him, Stupor Mundi, and the mud Flies from his hunching wings and beak--my heart, he blue kingfisher dives on you in fire.



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