IV
— one thing and then another one thing and then another the fresh wind the thickness the fine webs tender about the extended fingertips the dust sifting on the point of the shoe the cart track the car track the long glong trail into the sunset west of mountains purple gashes and the sun gone gloom and walking there walking westward with the solitary ghost above my head is this the bad sort is this the good sort where are you going and what do you mean why do you float there flow there just above my head to the right of my face avoiding the edge of my felt hat what is your precise shape old fellow and are you harmful I will turn away down this little muddy path look those trees there I will go down there swiftly I will run am running but the solitary ghost is still there this must be a bad one a ghost a ghost one of the white kind the cold kind the penetrating kind the thin and snowy kind o god shall I wake up in time will he enfold me chill me kill me SCREAM
one thing slower and then another thing slower it is a bulge a block a bulkhead a buttress of rock a wall there is a light there above it and a tree hanging over the light there was a face there but it is gone and I knew that face it was that girl no it was Susan no it was Doris no it was a Negress with gold hair no it was gold teeth grinning in the lamplight it is gone the wind comes evenly warmly slowly caressingly hums under the edge of my felt hat burns my left cheek and I am climbing among the sun-warmed rocks my hand is no warmer than these rocks is there a volcano under them will steam come out of the fissures will it all crumble and sink in it is crumbling and sinking crumbling and sinking and shaking my foot goes in my other foot I sink to my knees among warm disrupted rocks they are all falling apart and inward downward SCREAM
first second third fifth first second third fifth it is the fifth of forth the forth the forth and in the bed on the wall in the bed on the edge of the wall beside the lilac hedge beside the path between the two strange houses in this strange place and evening too or is it early morning in the bed ill or half awake I am lying here at a loss I should not be here and look there are people coming out of the other house three people three women no a mother and her two daughters and the path brings them close to my exposed bed shall I pretend to be asleep
But we don’t know the way to the beach
Shall we ask someone mother
But there is no one to ask
We might inquire at that strange house
Yes at that strange house what a queer house
Did you ever see such a house it’s a ruin
It has no wall on this side
And how dirty it is
Do you see how dirty it is
out of my bed then and running across the lawn and then slowing down so as to pass them not running and veering off from them toward the porch while they approach the side door they have not seen me I am safe I can get in without being seen I can get into this strange house where Bertha lives and all our children and all our relatives and the stove and the ice box and then they will come in and ask the way to the beach which is the way to the beach can you direct us to the beach
You must go through the village the little wooden village of a winding two-storied road and flagpoles and shingles and the white church I know the way well I have often been there it has a flat and washed look slightly crazy the houses are flimsy the beach is small the sea is cold