The Iowa Review
Volume 12
Issue 1 Winter
1981
Whatever It Is, Wherever You Are
John Ashbery
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Ashbery, John. "Whatever It Is, Wherever You Are." The Iowa Review 12.1 (1981): 119-120. Web.
Available at: http://ir.uiowa.edu/iowareview/vol12/iss1/37
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Article 37
It Is,Wherever
Whatever
You Are
John Ashhery
to
allowed our ancestors
cross-hatching
exchange
technique which
traits for others, in order to
certain genetic
their offspring with
provide
a way of life at once more
secure than their own,
and more
variegated
us
steam
once more,
and has left
has just about run out of
wondering,
The
us think we will ever
is about this
plush solitude that makes
or
even
want
to.
The
the
hands
clock always seem to
of
get out,
ebony
same
an
not
it is
the
hour. Yet
is
hour that will
mark
let us out. That
what
there
it always seems the same,
it is of course
constant
though
changing
as
an
stream. If
we
fed
could
ly, subtly,
by
only
though
underground
we
as when
were kids, and smoke and fool around and
go out in back,
a little while.
out
of
the
for
But that's just it?don't
way,
you
just stay
why
see? We
are "out
in back."
one
No
has ever
used
the front
door. We
a name, without
shame, a place
always lived in this place without
to talk and
a
we were
time.
When
for grownups
good
laugh, having
a
it seemed that adulthood would
children
be like climbing
tree, that
have
be a view
there would
But now we
elusive.
and further
from
we
down
because
there, breathtaking
slightly more
first
down
only down,
through the branches
steep grass patch that slopes away
surprisingly
from
can see
the
the base of the tree. It certainly
expected.
What
did
they want
us
is a different
view,
but not
the one
to do? Stand
around
this way, monitoring
return
the
for
each
address, wondering
breath,
every
checking
impulse
we fall into a state of
about
evil
until
torpor that
constantly
necessarily
worst
is
To what purpose did they cross-hatch
sin
the
of
all?
probably
so
so that the luminous
is
surface
that was underneath
effectively,
into another, also luminous but so shifting and so alive with
transformed
to take a
that it is like quicksand,
be to
step there would
suggestiveness
net
the fragile
of uncertainties
into the bog of certainty,
fall through
otherwise
known
Probably
they
summer
evenings,
us with
providing
as the
Slough of Despond?
for us to enjoy the things they enjoyed,
and hoped that we'd find others and thank
meant
the wherewithal
in the old
time, we
to find and
enjoy
can sometimes
see
them.
like
late
them
for
the
Singing
the tissues
way
they did,
through
and tracings the genetic process has laid down between us and them. The
tendrils can suggest a hand; or a specific color?the
yellow7 of the tulip,
for instance, will flash for a moment
in such a wray that after it has been
119
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can
we
withdrawn
here,
suggestion
tracted memories.
in the old
time,
but
be
sure
that
at the same
It has brought
in the faraway
there
was
no
time
it becomes
certainty
summer
without
imagining,
no
auto
as useless as all sub
heat or light. Yet still
must
have had
they
evenings,
for this, or known
that we would
someday need one, and wished
a
to
it is that
kind of purring occurs,
like the wind
help. Then
sneaking
around the baseboards of a room: not the infamous
"still, small voice"
a word
to the
that is
but an ancillary
of our own
speech
slithering
parallel
a visible
we
soundtrack
of
the
doubt-fleshed
sound as
way
imaginings,
we move
to
to
and back again,
from encouragement
exasperation
despair
a
sometimes
that is like an aborted movement
outward
gesture
some cape or promontory
the view would
from which
extend
in two directions?backward
and forward?but
that is only a
polite hope
in the same vein as all the others, crumbled
and put away, and almost
not to be
that it knows we know,
from any of them, except
distinguished
a
that
flashes
and in the context of not knowing
like silver, that
fluidity
an
seems to say a film has been
most
and
image will,
exposed
certainly
with
toward
not
will,
like
the last time,
come
to consider
itself within
the frame.
out in the
almost
yard, looking
snapshot of you,
in the city held in those
afraid in the crisp, raking light that afternoons
not
from anybody.
So what
else
accepting
days, unappeased,
anything
this now from
I'll tell you w7hat is: you are accepting
the
is new?
was
and
the
that
unknown
intended,
invisible,
sender,
you thought,
light
to rake or
is now directed
full in your face, as it in fact
only
glance
were
so hard, fearful of
it, that
squinting
accepting
always was, but you
or
warms
it
this. Whether
burns is another matter,
you didn't know
It must
be an old
we will not go into
on to it, like
and holding
couldn't
stand, and whom
Someone whose
face is the
which
someone
are
it
accepting
point is that you
someone you
always
thought you
as a brother,
an
you now recognize
equal.
same as yours in the
is
but
who
photograph
here. The
love from
are directed
at you,
and
thoughts
feelings
slab
of
will
that
and
dissolve
loosen
ultimately
falling
light
gentle
the efficient cold directness,
the timely self-hatred,
the crusted suspicion,
the
resolves
sensible
and the senseless nights
the horrible good manners,
else,
like a
all of whose
in utter abandon,
that have grown up to be you in the tree
spent waiting
no view; and
in the good-natured
with
circle of your
place you firmly
ancestors'
120
games
and
entertainments.