RODNEY PYBUS

Veronica Lake

'The earth was small, light blue and so touchingly alone...
our home that must be defended like a holy relic.'
Aleksei Leonov (Russian cosmonaut)

They'll take your ashes if you have the cash,
Capsuled and hammocked somewhere between death
And immortality... for a few years only.
Some trip, precious! – nearly five thousand dollars
For a teaspoonful to be swept up at five miles a second

Aboard the latest shiny, shiny Pegasus.
This is a very dear suspension of dust and
Disbelief: just seven grammes of your old self
Circling our poor relic marble every ninety minutes.
This pinch of powder, this soupçon of you-ness,

Like the desiccated scurf of the original spurt
That started your smidgen of history ticking,
Will have to come back down again,
Flaring and smoking, all the way down again.
You can't cheat the snap of oblivion's jaws.

Littering space with gizmos and garbage
Has no more hope than trying to write names
On stone or bronze or water.
Cruising the whirled beauty of our planet's
All very well, but what's the point if you can't see

The brown foot of Arabia or the speedwell
Blue of the seas? The cloud-swirls like
Uncooked pavlova draped from Cape to Cape?
What's the point if there's no fun or feeling? No wonder?
The corporate deals of Celestial Burial Services

Playing half-speed Puck with my bone-dust
And brain-ash is no miracle – what I'd want's to see
From up there the million places one life's too brief for,
To play my own games with time and space,
Like wondering if that little town by the coast

Of Argentina, down there, across the Plate
From Montevideo, might have a brightening pool
Of inland water near... I'd like to mix up maps and names
And multiply the shades of Veronica Lake
(And a fresh Blue Dahlia?), then I'd zoom out like

A satellite camera or, better still, like
The imagination, and try to find her face below,
Emblazoned on a handkerchief of cloud
Stretching to the Andes, framing her there...
And she's staring up at me, Constance, peekaboo.

(The 1940s Hollywood actress Veronica Lake, she of the peekaboo hairstyle, was born Constance Ockelman. The Blue Dahlia is among her better-known films.
St Veronica's handkerchief is said to have shown the face of Christ after she wiped his face on his way to Calvary.)

Elena-Carmen Bobocescu

Rodney Pybus
 

Veronica Lake
 

“Pamantul era mic, albastru deschis şi parea induiosator de singur…
vatra noastra ce trebuie aparata ca o relicva sfanta”.
Aleksei Leonov (cosmonaut rus)

Iti vor duce cenusa in spatiu daca ai destui parai,
Intr-o capsula leganata undeva intre moarte
Si imortalitate… numai pentru cativa ani.
Scump voiaj! – aproape cinci mii de dolari
Pentru ca un dram de praf sa fie luat pe sus cu cinci mile pe secunda

La bordului ultimului, celui mai stralucitor Pegas.
Aceasta este o suspensie foarte scumpa de cenusa si
De neincredere: doar sapte grame din eul tau cel vechi
Inconjurand biata noastra planeta la fiecare nouazeci de minute.
Acest fir de pulbere, aceasta urma vaga de tine-ti,

La fel ca pleava seaca a jetului originar
Ce-a pus in mars istoria ta infinitezimala,
Va trebui sa cada iara pe pamant
Arzand si fumegand, tot drumul inapoi in jos.
N-ai cum sa scapi de trosnetul falcilor uitarii.

In spatiul mizerabil umplut de inventii ieftine si de gunoaie,
Speranta este la fel de slaba ca si incercarea de a scrie nume
In piatra, in bronz sau in apa.
Strabatand frumusetea in spirala a planetei noastre,
Toate-s bune, dar care este rostul daca nu poti vedea

Piciorul brun al Arabiei sau soparlarita
Albastra a marilor? Valatucirea norilor intinsi precum
Albusul de bezea necoapta de la Capul Verde la Capul Bunei Sperante
Care-i e rostul, daca nu are nici haz si nici simtire? Nicun miracol?
Afacerile colective ale Serviciilor Ceresti de Pompe Funebre

Ce se joaca de-a spiridusul Puck la viteza injumatatita
Cu praful oaselor mele si cu pulberea cerebrala
Nu sunt nicio scofala –ceea ce-as vrea sa vad de-aici de sus
Sunt milioanele de locuri pentru care o viata nu-i indeajuns,
Sa joc propriile jocuri cu timpul si cu spatiul,

Intrebandu-ma, de pilda, daca acel mic oras la tarmulArgentinei,
Acolo jos, peste Platoul de la Montevideo, ar putea avea o panza lucitoare
De apa locala in apropiere…As vrea sa amestec harti si nume
Si sa inmultesc nuantele Veronicai Lake
(Si-o Dalie Albastra poate?) iar apoi sa maresc imaginea

Precum o camera de satelit, sau inca mai bine, precum
Imaginatia, sa incerc sa-i gasesc fata dedesubt,
Ivindu-se in blazonul vreunui nor ca o batista
Intinzandu-se spre Anzi, cuprinzand-o acolo…
Iar ea se uita in sus la mine, Constance, Peekaboo.

(Vedeta hollywoodiana a anilor ‘40 Veronica Lake, faimoasa pentru coafura ei stil «peekaboo» - cu parul pieptanat intr-o parte si o mesa lunga acoperindu-i o parte din chip si un ochi, s-a nascut cu numele de Constance Ockelman. «Dalia Albastra» este unul dintre cele mai cunoscute filme ale ei.
Se spune ca marama Sfintei Veronica ar fi aratat chipul lui Hristos, dupa ce aceasta i-a sters fata in drumul spre Golgota. n.a.)