excerpts from a verse translation of the Book of Jack
He came out at night (as he did always:
banished from resplendent Days sun-dappled)
craving another draught of mortal blood,
but not unthinking. No flood heedless he.
Oh no. The deck he is dealt from is an old deck
and he thought about bold wreckers of lives
and called the Beast to heel.
The laundromat was a lamp lit against
the dangers of a wild and unfenced edge of night.
Within it, machines purred like cats content
and the air was warm-scent of folded shirts.
(Was here the night's Jack found an easy feast
a sop to keep lulled his beast's curséd need
and also keep him wick.)
. . .
The illusionist had given him a gift of silver discs:
a tale of politics fantastic, greedy risks, of Houses
signed by Wolf, by Lion, Stag, Dragon. Loyalty,
as shiftless and shifting as the sea's weathered shore.
It was a gift and so he watched the tale tell itself out
thinking that he (doubter) knew the end
but then exclaimed: Poor Ned!
The apartment belonged to a thirstful ghoul
who, amused at his domitor's new school of fancy,
helpful offered five fat mass market books.
But our hero of the no good looks would not take
the pages, reminded of his own schemes --
the impossible dream and of course
the tower and the sword.
. . .
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
The owl that is a hollowness inside, a psychopomp
and plaything for the unseen rulers of the Hag-rid Dark?
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
And would he say that he knew its secret heartless tricks
before he willed it winging over Denver city, looking for a Mark?
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
Would he call the rats? he wondered.
And would they come when called, brave and bold and bright?
Filthy, scratched, and scarred-up foot-soldiers, fat-tailed, Un-Kinged?
Would he call the rats? he wondered.
Would they come hungry for book-glue and unmazing a secret hidden?
Would they come when called, a wall of teeth to nibble flesh from bone?
Or would he find their King?
Did he want to deal with snakes? he wondered.
But snakes are suited to the unknown pipe, the den of vipers,
the clotted intestinal secret where dragons may bed down and sleep.
Did he want to deal with snakes? he wondered.
He came out at night (as he did always:
banished from resplendent Days sun-dappled)
craving another draught of mortal blood,
but not unthinking. No flood heedless he.
Oh no. The deck he is dealt from is an old deck
and he thought about bold wreckers of lives
and called the Beast to heel.
The laundromat was a lamp lit against
the dangers of a wild and unfenced edge of night.
Within it, machines purred like cats content
and the air was warm-scent of folded shirts.
(Was here the night's Jack found an easy feast
a sop to keep lulled his beast's curséd need
and also keep him wick.)
. . .
The illusionist had given him a gift of silver discs:
a tale of politics fantastic, greedy risks, of Houses
signed by Wolf, by Lion, Stag, Dragon. Loyalty,
as shiftless and shifting as the sea's weathered shore.
It was a gift and so he watched the tale tell itself out
thinking that he (doubter) knew the end
but then exclaimed: Poor Ned!
The apartment belonged to a thirstful ghoul
who, amused at his domitor's new school of fancy,
helpful offered five fat mass market books.
But our hero of the no good looks would not take
the pages, reminded of his own schemes --
the impossible dream and of course
the tower and the sword.
. . .
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
The owl that is a hollowness inside, a psychopomp
and plaything for the unseen rulers of the Hag-rid Dark?
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
And would he say that he knew its secret heartless tricks
before he willed it winging over Denver city, looking for a Mark?
Did he dare call the owl? he wondered.
Would he call the rats? he wondered.
And would they come when called, brave and bold and bright?
Filthy, scratched, and scarred-up foot-soldiers, fat-tailed, Un-Kinged?
Would he call the rats? he wondered.
Would they come hungry for book-glue and unmazing a secret hidden?
Would they come when called, a wall of teeth to nibble flesh from bone?
Or would he find their King?
Did he want to deal with snakes? he wondered.
But snakes are suited to the unknown pipe, the den of vipers,
the clotted intestinal secret where dragons may bed down and sleep.
Did he want to deal with snakes? he wondered.