[Canvases] - Salt

I. Canticum Constructum

        here the open and the enigma

She walked within candescent Nautilus,
Rose the spiral ascending, ere a mirror
From cold sea the sunfire passing made.
Her gaze held narrow unfaltered Eastward,
A one that could but hunger shine as light
Would like unto lithify fragile flesh
And from her eyes a lighthouse beacon flare
That would draw him as though the sun still slept.

       
        and here the villain and the clue


Her name is lost to all man’s history,
Though the Maelstrom, moaning, holds it precious.
Currents liquid and currents vap’rous swirl
The sound with drowning prayers long collected
From the day man set oars to break the waves

       
        here the hero and the task

She watched for Salt, and he sailed for her,
Though all creation stood howling between.
First mate of the Unconquered Song, soon made
Captain of its new and hollow echo,
Fresh promoted ferryman of the dead.

        last, here the enigma and the close

She died one morning in bright Nautilus
Atop the spire ascendant. Her eyes
Found resting Eastward between the hewn stairs
And the marble sky.

II. Canticum Cautionem

(a capella, allegretto)
Ah-hi-hi-oh, Ah-haaa-ah-oh
Ware ye the Maelstrom above'n'below
Ah-hi! Ah-hey!
Ware the wat'ry chains

Ware the black swirlin' rains
Ware the Howl an’ the undertow
(a nessuna cosa)
Ahhh-hohhh

(recitativo)
Now bend an ear, lads, as y’shore up the masts
An’ hark while the riggin' is tied
(antiphon, mezzo forte)
We've all heard the tales, - both minnows an' whales! -
Of what lurks deep down in the tide
There's dragons, there's witches, an' sirens - those bitches! -
But it ain't those who'll widow yer bride

(anima)
Ah-hi-hi-oh, Ah-haaa-ah-oh
Ware ye the Maelstrom above'n'below

(appassionato)
Aye, its that bastard King's curse, the last - an' the worst! -
That he dyin’ spoke into the sea
An' it roars an' it churns, while ev’ry corkscrewin’ turn
Breaks the ships o’ man into debris
(crescendo)
An’ yer beggin’, yer prayers, - our cussin’ and swears! -
Ain’t worth more’n a dead King’s decree

(anima)
Ah-hi! Ah-hey!
Ware the wat'ry chains
Ware the black swirlin' rains
Ware the Howl in the undertow
Ahhh-hohhh

(mesto, mezza voce)
First there’s the feelin’ that yer eardrums’re bleedin’
An’ the salt wind’ll start to taste wrong
Then come spouts from the deep, - an’ the heavens’ll weep! -
As the Howl starts singin’ its song
When y’hear then the tune - and y’feel the typhoon! -
Know it well lads, y’won’t see the dawn

(con bravura, zelosamente)
Ah-hi-hi-oh, Ah-haaa-ah-oh
Ware ye the Maelstrom above'n'below
Ah-hi! Ah-hey!
Ware the wat'ry chains
Ware the dark swirlin' rains
Ware the Howl in the undertow
Ahhh-hohhh

(ravvivando, a voce pienna)
So keep wide yer eyes and learn ye the signs
Of the omens the ocean’ll tell
The quiet red rocks, the e’er drowning flock,
An’ the ringing o’ the copper bell

(appassionato)
Fer where the omens’ll go, the Maelstrom’ll blow
To carry ye into the swell - the swell! -
Aye, to carry ye right down to hell - to hell! -
Aye, to drown ye in that darkest well - that well! -

(calando, mesto)
Ahhh-hohhh, Hmmm hm hmmm

III. Canticum Trium Vocem

Ah, the Lady of the Lighthouse? She was dying
She had fallen to [curses dark][illness rare][madness deep]
On this all accounts agree.

Of course, to the Lady eager mendicants flocked,
Bearing tomes and herb chests, numbering a [dozen learned][hundred skilled][handful blessed]
Of this the records show.

She held for a time a withering court, laying still
As they approached her throne of [linen and down][pine and oak][gold and silk]
Of this all men could see

Prayer and physic alike alighted and fled, and so they said
“Ah, we see. She must have [ambrosia rich][offerings burnt][tinctures pure]
Of this all poets know

Alas, but it is a cruel Fortune that marks the cure

Across the Howling Sea, in [imperious Sepulchre][forbidden Somnolence][beleaguered Penumbra]
Of this all here mourn”

And so word came to Salt, who rose from reefside hut
And knelt by Lady’s side, swore [salvation][salvation][salvation]
Of this all still remember

He departed at moonrise next, and at moonfall
The Lady rose to ascend the Spiral, [carried by some][followed by all][alone at last]
Of this he never knew

IV. Canticum Vir Fortis

Act II, Scene I

The Canticum Invictus, outside quarters of the Captain

Salt stands without, amidst thought

SALT

My heart does beat as an oarsman’s drum ‘fore
Last mad charge to breach a defending storm.
Yet all shades of what is valor bade me
Discard the welcome safety of retreat,
Cease to waver, enter and entreat.

Salt thrice knocks

CAPTAIN

Who then is this who knocks when he should speak?

SALT

First mate and e’er loyal crewman--

CAPTAIN

                                                Ha!

Then let this plank not serve impediment!

Enter Salt to cabin left

I see ‘pon thee a curious visage
As a fire clouded by its own smoke
Speak, then, what consumes thy soul with such heat
That riseth to thy eyes and my cabin both

SALT

Captain mine, I have promised salvation
To one who sits quiet by the gates of death
And her pale flesh which yearns so to depart
Presence of its spirit will of mine words
A most foul falsehood make, save but for
Our vessel given to this desp’rate cause.

CAPTAIN

Thy countenance does not belie thy speech
And if my drowning mem’ry serves me yet,
Thou canst only mean to sail--

SALT

                                        E’en so.

Captain mine, let us bring our crew to bear
And sail at first borrowed light that we may
Bring my lady life.

CAPTAIN

Lad, our song endures
Unconquered yet for we sail all as one.
Betwixt no divided cause and favour
Promised for one, though that favour be blessed
By e’ery hand of a ninefold council.
Thus, cease to mine two aged ears to pray
And seek instead our crewmen’s hearts to sway

Captain stands, and with swiftness steps without, as Salt follows

Ho! Mine choir unequaled quick and brave!
Let Salt of you beg his Lady love to save!

The crew gathers

SALT

That legends are but seeds always planted,
Is fact plain enough for our eyes to see.
Yet for every million of our buried
Tales, perhaps a one rises from the dark
Of Memnosyne’s abyssal earth, to bloom
Effulgent in the gardens of our thoughts,
Immortal poems on e’ery petal marked
And round e’ery thorn a dirge softly wrought.
There is no light, no light in abyssal earth,
No cause for mem’ry, no chance at earned
Elysian future, and yet a million
Save one comfort themselves with burial.
We are not so comforted, aye, choir?
We yearn below the surface, a hands width
From Asphodel above, and our song waits
But for a drop of journeyed sea water
Which by noble purpose and nobler deeds

Has become naught but incarnate glory.
I say this then, ‘fore divinity’s eyes:
Be crewmates mine upon this voyage rare,
And gloried rain shall us to Asphodel bear.

V. Canticum Victa

There were tempests before this, heralds,
Skirmishers sent to test the mettle
And the hubris of those who would sail to [nameless Threshold]
Enough to kill a score of crewmen, and a captain
But none were the last gasping curse of a dying Watchman King
And none bore the Howl.

He sees the omens, three in one
Clang, Choke, Quiet
And he knows then the old songs.
But his Lady waits!
You fools, she climbs the spire ascending, within candescent Nautilus!
Far, far, impossibly close, candescent Nautilus,
A day’s voyage and a Maelstrom’s width away.

Listen.
That is a copper bell, and its kind has not been used for two hundred years
Its tone is lighter, brighter than modern bronze
And oh, it peals to a distant tune
Learned from a mold long gone,
Owned by a ship whose name was claimed by rite of salvage

With a hollow ring, the sea sends water to the sky
Who sends her clouds below
And between them now there is a blackness,
And he knows then the old songs.
Clang, and again.
Onward, onward, onward
Forward unto the breachless dark.

Listen.
To the guttering choke of the drowning flock
The clipped cries, mournful just until
Their own lungs gurgle them to a stop.
Feathers dripping slowly, stripped of oils and soaked through
Hear that slap of wet wings against heavy air
Slowly, slowly

And it is with a drowning gasp that the wind comes
Bearing precious cargo,
Like a child who has killed his pet
But cannot bear to part with the corpse
Look, it brings shearing gusts, breaking squalls
Herding drenched wings

Listen.
Total stillness. These are the red rocks, and they are perfect mutes.
The brushing up or the crashing on of waves,
The whistling and the laughing wind,
Gone.
Now there is his own creaking woven in the groaning of the planks
And nothing else.

This is the final calm, Salt, remember it well
And prepare, if you must
This is Maelstrom now, and
The Howl says “Hush,” so you can better hear her song.

Hi ho, sailor, welcome to the storm.

He lashes himself to the wheel,
After he nails his feet to the deck.
They will be four days pierced,
So perhaps what will happen is best
As he would have never walked again.
He would have sat crippled in the light of his Lady,
And is that any way for a man to live?
He would tell you aye.

On the first day, in the third hour
The sail is ripped from the rigging
And whips itself around the hull like a specter
Or a child playing at one.
He pleads against the Howl, and hears whistling in return

On the second day, in the second hour
The mast is cracked in two
Felled at last, like the oak that gave it birth
It rises through woven winds
And dances with its elder brothers there
He roars against the Howl, and hears thunder in return

On the third day, in the first hour
The starboard hull begins to buckle
Until it begins to crack
And then it begins to drown
He weeps against the Howl, and hears whispers in return

Look, you sweet fool. Look so you can listen.

And up, up oh Goddess, up he looks
And there in the Maelstrom's beating breast
The lightning flashes perfect
How many ships, hero?
How many sails and masts and hulls and figureheads of mermaids past?
Now he hears the song, and now the Howl is revealed
Through every splintered plank and around the curve of every broken cabin
The rain drums a rhythm behind thundered percussion
And the wind whistles, an ancient banshee
Discontent with her wail
So she breaks the ships of men, and plays upon their bones
And woe to you, luckless lunatic sailor
For the moment you hit moonrisen tide
Was the moment she tired of her tune

And now she breaks him
Rips the wheel from quarter deck
And each foot leaves each nail behind
He has cast his lot with his ship
And she has cast them to her hoard
Listen, do you hear?
A-ohhhhhh, a-ooooooo
He is the primo uomo in a choir of the shattered
A day's journey from candescent Nautilus.
Heroic, that the canvas should resist