sound boxes

8/8/2019 Sound Boxes

1/43

1

Sound Boxesby Guillaume Baxter

It was morning.

Mornings were standard things.

The sun pushed against the aged and yellowed curtains that

were always drawn. About midday the place would get

sufficiently warmer and stir up the smell of his body. On a

refined level the musky smell of a warm body is repulsive

but on another level it is entirely pleasant and reassuring,

simply as proof of being.

Mornings were arbitrary, meant for lying about on the

familiar pile of old t-shirts and sweatpants in the corner that

served as a bed.

Sound Boxes - Guillaume Baxter


2/43

2

awhaledivingintothedeepallthatfatandwarmthsubmergingint

oanindiainkblacknessthatnohomosapienhaseverclappedapeep

eronisbetterpoetrythananythingcoleridgeeverculledup

Sisal, thoughts bouncing from his mouth, glided through on

his way to the water room.

The water room was something and a half. There were four

ways to get water and all of them made different sounds.

News was keen on sounds but he had never figured how

words were different from other sounds. He had learned that

his name was News from listening to Sisal but after that he

had given up. Without words to shore up his thoughts they

ended up forming themselves like those cartoons from the

nineteen-thirties with only instrumental music for sound.

There was a lot of life that could be covered by an asparagus

stalk and a carrot waltzing.

swayinggrassoutinthedakotasisyoursecondgreatseabutthebuf

falodontgoaboutdivingdownintothatgoldenoceanbecausether

eaintnofishonwhichtogoaboutfeasting



3/43

3

Sisal glided the other way and thoughts bounced all around

him.

Sisal was a god of sorts, he usually stayed in his room

reading and smoking marijuana or loosely rolled cigarettes.

Thats the sort of god Sisal was.

Sisal kept a lot of books, new books, used books, stolen

books, yellowed books, books corrugated from water

damage, books in two volumes because of how their spine

split, and books with their middles cut out for hiding stuff,

providing an entirely different story. The books were

stacked about everywhere in the room until the stacks looked

like an artists various takes on The Tower of Babel. The

room smelled of well thumbed pages and the settled smoke

of the sort of plant leaves that are good for breathing in when

theyre set on fire.

Sounds came from the room that was full of doors. In truth,

sounds came from a lot of places. There was a lot of



4/43

4

information there but News ignored most of it and that was

ok. If he made more of an effort to understand language he

would have learned that the fifteen year old in the unit below

him was a cheaplittlewhore and that her mother was a

goddamnbitch.News didnt know these things but he did

know how the sounds in the room with all the doors usually

went. The doors in that room had the habit of closing up like

a chrysalis until it was time for them to reopen and present

the food that they had incubated. This wondrous magic

occured intermittently amongst the population of doors and

no specific pattern was discernable, but it was assured that at

least one of them would have reached fruition at any given

time. There was food in the room of doors and it would be

good for food to be in News too.

When he got to the rooms of doors, Sisal was gone. He did

that. It wasnt a problem; the cupboards were left open so he

could get at the crackers alright. Crackers were best for

eating in the room that could have been the sitting room.

The room that could have been the sitting room was full of

lots of things. The main things were: a large, cracked



5/43


6/43

6

deep and sometimes buttons simply couldnt be coaxed out

of them.

It was in this way that News ran out of buttons to knock

about.

He headed for the water room. The water room was a pretty

great room, not because he had any specific need of it but

because it was generally a good place to muck about in. The

porcelain cover to the tank on the toilet had cracked as the

result of some action of Sisals and one half was simply

missing; the water back there could be splashed quite

effectively. This was best on really warm days. Today was

not a really warm day.

News ambled back over to his pile of old t-shirts and sweat

pants and flopped himself down. The pile proved pleasant to

flop down on so he did it again and then settled himself in.

Staring at the little yellow and pink flowers on the wallpaper

he could almost see them grow and multiply. After a time,

this became less interesting and he set about watching the



7/43

7

dust motes laze through the air. They began to mosey and

jive more and that was probably when he dozed and when

they straightened up and went back to lazing was probably

when he awoke.

Lying there, he took in the half open closet where Sisal

stored his pinstripe suits. The suits had been there for a time

and, had they any sense about them, should have stuffed their

pockets chock full of moth balls. As it was they just hung

there like listless opossums.

The closet itself had never been a place News wandered into

because it didnt relate to sleeping and that was the rooms

only real purpose. Similarly, he had a vague understanding

that closets were places that things were taken out of and

thus not ideal for occupancy. However, this day was proving

dull enough to beat the band and steal its brass section too so

it couldnt wrinkle the day too badly to take a brief tour.

Working his way through to the back of the closet, News

discovered some dusty hat boxes that sat sternly in place



8/43

8

collecting dust. Beyond these, there was an ample amount of

old Marguerite cigar boxes that had done an admirable job

retaining the smell of cigars, however long ago it was that

they had been smoked. The cigars were probably part of the

last tenants story since Sisal smoked only what he could

roll. The most interesting thing that was in that closet though

was a hole.

The hole was actually a vent. By the vent there was a grate.

At one time, the vent had covered the grate making that one

big hole into a bunch of littler, more aesthetically pleasing

holes. As it was now, the grate was caked in dust and laid off

to the side where still more dust had begun to settle on it.

The whole situation was fresh and interesting to News and

culled up the thought of an old bespectacled catfish laughing

during a brief drum solo.

From the hole, there issued a slight breeze and since there

was air coming out it seemed that there would be room

enough for News to go in. The vent extended back a bit then

split to the left and right. He went right. After that turn,



9/43

9

there were several others but since there wasnt really a

choice about the way to go, both direction and distance were

superfluous, unless to say that they existed.

After a time, News sensed that he was coming close to

another entrance as one of the patterns of sound that rumbled

through the vent became more distinct. Shortly, he found

himself at another cluster of aesthetically pleasing little

holes.

These holes were not in a closet but rather under a table. The

table legs fulfilled their purpose by resting on the dull green

linoleum floor. There was also a rocking chair that was

similarly fulfilling its purpose on the green linoleum floor by

perpetually shifting its weight back and forth, back and forth.

The rocking chair didnt go about shifting itself though. The

shifting of the chair was done by the man sitting in it.

Goodness knows what his purpose was but that wasnt too

much of a loss since both the table and rocking chair were

making a go of it.



10/43


11/43

11

knife back and forth showed that the principle strength of

those arms had receded down closer to the bone but had

relinquished none of its tenacity.

News noted that the weight of the discarded shavings

matched that of the chairs rocking and that that was

reflected in the movements of the sound from the black box.

He saw these patterns confirmed in the perspective offered

by the linoleum and the glittery veins of the counter tops.

News gathered these elements in his head, forming one

image and then held it there turning it around and admiring

it. An approximation of what he thought would be akin to a

great fluffy pancake smiling through comically large eyes as

syrup was being poured over it. It was one of the most frank

visions of life that he had ever encountered. He sat there for

a time and enjoyed the discovery. He enjoyed the

comfortable roundness of the image and, sinking deeper into

the splendor of it, he let his mind wander its expanse freely

as time flowed around him.

news



12/43

12

Reality snapped back into focus.

He was still in the vent and well aware of it.

He was equally aware that Sisal was not in the vent.

Only Sisal spoke his name.

The other sort of god that had been sitting in the chair was

gone and had taken the principal light of the room with him.

Some light was offered by the windows at the far side of the

room but it was getting closer to the time when they would

stop being so generously luminous. Light could change the

pattern of sounds but it could not create sound.

He had heard his name.

The black box was still speaking.

He turned his attention to that.



13/43

13

orthcomingwiththeweatherforecastforthiseveningaswellasto

morrownightfollowedbythefiveoclock news

wherewewilltakealookatrisi

From amidst the jumble of sound he had heard his name

again but could not grasp what thought the pattern meant to

his name. Often times the patterns told him that Sisal

wanted him to appear or that it would be best to quickly

disappear or that it was an ideal time for food to be had. It

bothered him that this box should speak his name and that he

should not know in what sort of context. It began to seem

very wrong.

It did not bother him that other gods may exist, for sounds

had always alluded to their existence, but that one should

have a device that would speak to him with no obvious

reason or pretense was a little unsettling.

It seemed best that this not be permitted. Pushing closer

against the grate News realized that the vent wasnt holding



14/43

14

it too obstinately. With a little more effort the grate came

free and fell to the floor exclaiming, kitestring! as it hit.

Instinctively he knew the right course of action.

News bounced himself across the room gaining the counter

in no time. With zealous energy he completed the task. The

radio lay face down on the floor as its batteries rolled gently

over the linoleum whispering a drawn out, r u b b e rr u b b

e rr b u b b e r to themselves as they went.

News was back across the floor and through the vent coming

out onto the closet floor in no time. Everything was secured,

the floor was judiciously bringing down and cataloging dust,

the cigar boxes held fast to their former glory, and the hat

boxes remained stoic. Safe and back in familiar quarters he

worked his way through the apartment to Sisals room where

he squeezed through the door.

Sisal was there on the mattress reading and drinking water

from an old blue mug. Upon News entrance he looked up

said, lownews and continued reading. News sat pressed



15/43

15

beside him for a time dozing and looking to see if he could

spot the segments of dust that had been created by Sisals

greeting, for that is what he knew dust to be, worn out sound.

After a time, he sauntered back to his own corner bed and,

nestling in, fell asleep.

At about this time the tattooed man in unit two returned

home. Upon entering the kitchen he noted that the radio had

knocked itself off the counter and, cursing lightly he

gathered together the batteries and reinserted them and

ignored that they had mentioned briquettes as they were

snapped into place. He sat back down in his beat up rocking

chair and began to whittle again as Steely Dan spoke of self-

made men.

Getting up to retrieve a tin can beer from the refrigerator, he

noticed that the damned grate had come off the vent again.

Having fit it back into place he sat back down and settled

once more into whittling. Shortly thereafter, the radio

batteries died and he was forced to acknowledge the shit luck

youve got to expect when not even the friggin store has



16/43

16

graphite on hand. In any case, some plain old quiet could do

a man good and so, for the third time, he began to whittle

and in doing so admired how the wood shavings were like

the snowflakes that would blanket Commercial Street in a

few months time, deadening the noise of the city.

Drinking beer and whittling and contemplating was a fine

activity which lasted the better part of an hour until the noise

of the upstairs neighbors started to seep more heavily into

his kitchen.

She was the worst of course, crying out and moaning. He

could hear the mans deep voice distinctly but aside from a

handful of comments he only grunted every now and then. It

could get to be pretty damned annoying.

He understood it was her fault though, if shed learned how

to boil peas properly it wouldnt have been an issue. Peas

are, after all, quite simple to boil. However, tonight the radio

had shit the bed and couldnt be turned up to block it out and

it was certainly becoming even more of a damned nuisance.



17/43

17

The dispatcher on the phone understood that sometimes a

man just wanted some peace and quiet every now and then.

She affirmed that she would send someone over to remind

his neighbors that they should be able to go about their own

damn business without such unnecessary commotion at such

an hour.

News was awoken by blue lights crying out

weirdbrewweirdbrewweirdbrew. The lights ceased to cry

out after a short time and then disappeared altogether just

before a car door slammed. Sleep gently let the world lose

focus and fade into a soft velvet sensation of rest.

On another level, one composed primarily of lead pipes,

plaster, wood boards, and linoleum, the scene was slightly

different. There wasnt anything going on that hadnt

happened before and that earns any day the description of

average, even the police officer that knocked on the door

would have said so. The man of the household, however,

found the interruption to be inconvenient as he was just



18/43

18

beginning to feel less tense and that he had clearly

articulated his point about respect and properly boiled peas.

As a reply the man suggested an alternate location to which

the officer could go and some possible activities with which

to occupy himself while there.

Naturally the officer felt that perhaps there was a

misunderstanding as to who he was and why he was there.

Thus he cleared up all confusion.

This is officer Bechard with the Portland Police

Department.

A pause so that information could be properly digested and

then,

Open the door or I will use force.

The man of the household opened the door. Incidentally he

forgot that the door chain was still in place. The officer was

kind enough to remind him of this as well as inquire about



19/43

19

his wife. Unfortunately the man of the household was

unmarried but by a stroke of luck his girlfriend was in. That

was just as good to Officer Bechard. Officer Bechard

understood what a difficult commitment marriage could be.

As circumstance would have it the mans girlfriend was in

the shower and didnt like to be hurried in such matters.

Officer Bechard was a kindly man and understood this so he

volunteered to retrieve her personally but the man of the

household was aware of how valuable the officers time was

so he went to hurry her along.

They were both very polite fellows.

In another setting bone china tea cups on matching saucers

would have suited their discourse well.

When the girlfriend got to the door she looked a wreck.

Officer Bechard surmised that they had hard water in their

pipes.



20/43

20

Officer Brooks appeared at the door next to Officer Bechard.

Officer Brooks reckoned the man of the household could do

with a change of air so he brought him down to his car.

Officer Bechard made a phone call and then sat with the

girlfriend in the kitchen.

Her name was Elizabeth. She sat down and had a glass of

water.

After that she had a good old fashion shot of whiskey.

Officer Bechard reckoned she could handle the bite and only

started paying attention again when she started on another

glass of water.

Eventually the other vehicle came and several kindly persons

helped her into the back of their van.

whereyouwhereyouwearyouwhereyouwereyouwereyou

Red lights sashayed across the walls now and were having

their say. The walls leaked word of people entering the

building and banging up the stairs.



21/43

21

News heard them, Sisal did too.

The sounds became disinteresting. News went back to sleep.

Sisal stayed awake.

Sisal heard the door to a taxi cab being shut. The solid red

lines of his digital clock showed that it was a little after four

in the morning. Sisal was having trouble keeping up the

perpetual revisions the clock made to its opinion of time.

Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her apartment. She had made

fine new friends; not necessarily the sort you exchange

Christmas cards with, but good friends nonetheless. Her new

friends had taught her some wonderful things. She now

knew about cracked ribs, prescription pain killers, and

restraining orders. She was one happy girl.

The man in the rocking chair folded up his pocket knife and

slid it loosely into his back pocket. Draining the last bit from

his tin can beer he crumpled the can and threw it into the



22/43

22

corner trash. Standing for a moment he absorbed the fine

quiet of his kitchen and headed to bed, for he had things to

do in the morning.

News came awake slowly and admired how the window-

light could change the color of the surfaces it touched upon.

The effort involved in getting up required that he search for

the strength behind his eye lids several more times. When he

finally did overcome that gargantuan effort he went out to

the kitchen and ate the food Sisal had left out for him the

night before.

In the room that could have been the sitting room, he found

some old pastel colored mints. They were no good for

tasting but did a fine job of bumping across the floor.

Eventually they bumped themselves all the way under the

defunct silver radiator in the corner. Impressive amounts of

accumulated dust made their retrieval less than appealing.

News made his way over to Sisals room to see what he had

been doing. Sisal was awake but he wasnt reading, he was



23/43

23

smoking from his pipe. Sisal smoked from his pipe when he

still wanted to smoke but had chain smoked cigarettes to the

point where he could no longer inhale their smoke. He sat

with News for awhile and seemed glad for the company but

didnt do too much.

News fell asleep.

He woke up a while later. Sisal was smoking a rolled

cigarette again, pipe at the ready. News headed out into the

other room to do some exploring. He scrambled through the

piles of Russian plays, back issues of Time magazine, and

the fall leaves that had been dried, pressed, and then heaped

in several plastic postal bins.

Sisal remained in his room for the entire day listening to folk

music while smoking or simply laying on his bed looking at

the water damaged ceiling.

News knew where the food was kept so he fed himself and

went to bed.



24/43

24

The next day it rained great gentle drops that plopped down

with satisfaction on any old surface. Peals of thunder shook

the apartment and lightning occasionally threw everything

into sharper relief.

w p r b m l n t k g d d t p c s

b m p l n w q k b p q m l

j y b r k b pk t m q w p

v p lw d l v p t b w p k

Rain spoke only in consonants.

Thunderstorms were the only things News knew that looked

like themselves when he thought about them. There was the



25/43

25

usual symphonic accompaniment to the thought, but its

course was subject to the storm.

Sisal stayed in his room for three days straight.

On the third day, there was a knock at the door but Sisal

didnt hear it. News was wary.

Once knocking proved to be an evident failure the knockers

let themselves in. Sisal kept a spare key on top of the

molding that surrounded the door. That is how they knew to

get in.

The knockers were male gods. Both males had longish hair

that would have turned heads way back when but was hardly

thought of today. News watched them from within the

recesses of toppled Russian plays.

Sisal? said one.

Hes in his room? said the other.



26/43

26

Yeah, said the first one.

Sisal, its us, said the second.

The two males walked gingerly across the floor of the

apartment and gently pushed open the door to Sisals room

causing the sound of and accepting their tune youll be

drenched to the bo to grow louder in the process.

News stayed put. He could hear them talking more to Sisal

but Sisal made no sound.

Several minutes passed and then the second male emerged

from the room walking with his arm around Sisal who

looked disinterestedly at the floor a few feet in front of him.

You can stay with us for a bit man, said the first male.

Were just going to get you down to the car then well lock

up, said the second male.



27/43

27

They left.

omanlikeamanlikeamanlikeawomanlikeamanyoulikeama

The music kept playing.

The two males came back in, occurrences of heavy footsteps

and gentle breathing.

Can you get him a toothbrush or something Jack? said the

second male.

Yeah and his papers, said the first male. Wheres his

ferret?

No idea Breeze. Whats its name? asked the second.

News, I think. said the first.



28/43

28

The second male walked into the sleeping room, then the

water room, and then came back through the kitchen and

looked in Sisals room. Walking through the room that could

have been the sitting room wasnt an option, it was too full.

News stayed put, just watching.

Theres enough food on hand. He should be alright until

Sisal is set to come back, said the second male.

They left. The lock on the door clicked into place behind

them.

News remained within the recess of the toppled Russian

plays. It continued to rain.

Two days passed with News eating from the food that was

left at his disposal. The apartment was drearier without Sisal

in it. When the rain wasnt falling a grey sky kept its place.

All that permeating water thickened the smell of old paper

and wooden floorboards in the apartment. The stillness and

heavy atmosphere of the environment made News restless.

His only outlet was the grate in the back of the closet



29/43

29

beneath and behind Sisals pinstripe suits that hung there like

listless opossums.

Without paying particular attention to distance or direction,

News meandered through the vents listening to the sounds

that drifted along to him through the various steel corridors.

Inevitably all the turns News made produced an end. The

end was a conglomeration of little holes that News knew

were simply subdivisions of the one big, possible hole. This

grate, like the one in unit two, opened up into a kitchen.

Beyond that iron web, News saw a woman sitting at a table.

The table was pushed against the wall with a window,

probably so that someone could look out it while eating

breakfast or drinking tea. The later activity was an assured

possibility for that was what the woman was now doing. She

wore blue jeans and a dark green sweatshirt; her bare feet

were pulled up onto the chair so that her shins pressed

against the edge of the table. Rain streamed down the

window in uneven sheets providing an ever shifting view of

the cityscape beyond. Taking a sip of tea a piece of hair fell

down from behind her ear. The woman gently secured the



30/43

30

auburn strand back into its former resting place. It was then

that News noticed that her eyes and cheeks were moist with

subtle tears.

Looking to the right, News noticed that, pushed against the

adjacent wall, there was a double bassinet; the sort that

hospitals had once used in their maternity wards. Two

infants lay in the bassinet, asleep, wrapped in soft yellow

blankets, light blue knitted caps on their heads.

The infants made no sound. The woman slowly drank her

tea. She made no sound. The rain spoke in consonants to

the window pane.

News took several steps back from the grate, stopped, and

squinted slightly. The iron of the grate relinquished its

strength and became fine gossamer threads. The whole

picture fit together like a stained glass window in some

ancient cathedral; each piece curving or jutting just so that it

could saddle up nicely next to another.



31/43

31

The scene was its own thought and there was no music

except for the rain. The warmth of its beauty made his eye

lids heavy and his heart beat slower. In a short amount of

time he was asleep.

Later News awoke and began to retreat back down the vent

and once again traversed its paths. When he came to an

opening with no grate that looked out on one of the

buildings principal halls he stuck his head out and looked

around.

At the far end of the hall there was a door. The door was ajar

and through it he could see a mist that filled the hall with the

scent of salt and ancient water. Without hesitation, News left

that vent and walked down the hall and out the door.

Across the damp asphalt parking lot there was a dumpster

overflowing with refuse from the apartment building. News

found some fine chicken in there for eating and then settled

in amongst some newspapers that had been kept dry by the

dumpsters lid.



32/43

32

His night was a peaceful one.

He woke in the morning to the sound of someone rustling in

and around the dumpster. Sticking his head out from the

wad of newspapers, he found himself facing a god of the

same sort as Sisal who had a grizzled face and long, curly

white hair.

hullo said the face, adding, strangeseeingyouhere

After a short pause he explained,

ithoughtiwastheonlyonetoriflethisdumpster

News looked back at him. The god looked well intentioned

and benign. News inched forward to smell the tan jacket that

the man was wearing. He smelled like salmon and coffee. It

was a smell that one might hope to find endearing. The man

offered his hand. Sisal smelled that too. It smelled as

reclusive as the apartment had on warm days. News felt at

home.



33/43

33

The man picked News up proclaiming, youcancomewithme

illlookoutforyou The man carried News through streets and

back alleys, pausing to sort through the various contents of

dumpsters along the way. When walking through deserted

alleys and other unoccupied zones, the man would explain

their surroundings to News. The mans words were useless

to News but the sound of his gravelly voice was reassuring

and he would let News down into dumpsters to look for

food.

At about midday, the man took News down to the State Pier

and they sat out on the end gazing into the shifting blue

mirror of the harbor. This was one of the mans favorite

activities. Sitting there in the warmth of the sun, he could

lower his mind down into those eternal blue depths and see

the history of being.

Towards evening, the man brought News back to his home

beneath the bridge. There was a can that the man used for

making fires when it was cold and an old refrigerator that he



34/43

34

had padded with various blankets for a bed. He had pried off

the door of the refrigerator the previous winter and given it

to some teenagers as a sled in exchange for a pocket knife, a

deck of cards, and a snickers bar. The night was cold with

the rain that had resumed again around mid-afternoon so the

man started a small fire and set News down on a blanket

nearby it. Reaching into the bed he moved aside some of the

blankets and pulled out a battered violin case. The violin

that he unpacked from that case had been spared all the

abuse that was evident on its case. Its cherry frame reflected

the timid light of the fire. The instrument was the one link

that anchored Dupuis to who he had been.

The man drew the bow across the strings of the violin

causing it to sigh a little bit. Content with the sound, he

began to play. The sounds that the man was able to coax

from that wooden box were of pure beauty. Except for his

gliding hand and dancing fingers, the man was completely

still. The only other movements that News could observe,

and this by watching very closely, was the rise and fall of his



35/43

35

chest when he breathed and the subtle movements of his eyes

beneath closed lids. The man continued to play.

He could make infinity bloom.

As easy as it would have been to steal, no one had ever

attempted to take the violin from the man even though it

would have fetched an admirable sum at any shop. The true

worth of that instrument resided in when it lay tucked

beneath his chin.

In the morning, the two of them awoke to the blunt peel of

tug boats in the harbor. The man climbed out of the

refrigerator and shook loose his joints in the brisk morning

air. Bending down he scooped News up out of the

refrigerator and said,

mynamesdupuisandyourethefirsttoknowit.

At one time Dupuis had been Dupuis but when he became a

vagrant his need for a name disappeared. People still needed



36/43

36

a name for him though, thats just how they were. The

people in the Portland area referred to him as Silent Sam. In

truth, he wasnt perfectly silent, he simply only said what

was necessary. It seemed that the people needed to have a

name by which to refer to him and the others like him. There

was Millcreek Mike who hung out across the bridge in

Millcreek. He sat at the McDonalds drinking coffee and

spoke softly to the collection of imitation raccoon tails

attached to his baseball cap. There was also Crazy Mary

who was apt to rant a good deal at no one in particular.

Apparently the adjective preceding the name made up for its

generic nature. People were people and without descriptors

they had a hard time understanding other people.

The principle method through which Dupuis earned his

money was by sitting in various parks with a sign that told

passersby that they could hear him recite a poem for

whatever change they were willing to give. He had

memorized some of the poems during high school and the

rest from books at the municipal library.



37/43

37

His memory was encyclopedic. There were a lot of poems

rattling around in that old noggin. The range was from Dr.

Seuss to Breton. The more change someone put in his cup

the longer the poem. Once he had gotten five dollars for

reciting Lord Byrons poem Darkness in its entirety.

Sometimes kids from the local high school would even throw

money in his cup. The high school kids seemed to get the

biggest kick out of Dadaist poems since it brought into

question Dupuis level of sanity. It was probably this same

group that gave him the name Silent Sam since he only

responded to their queries when they gave him money. If the

questions became too ridiculous he would give them Dr

Seuss rhymes in response. That had the same effect as

Dadaist poems. They lapped it up.

People were people.

News stayed in the breast pocket of his shirt the whole time

and observed everything from the little window created by

the bulge in fabric between two buttons of the coat.



38/43

38

Dupuis made twenty-two dollars and eighty-four cents that

afternoon. The poetry was his most profitable pull for

money. The police turned a blind eye to it when he was in

municipal areas where loitering and especially pan handling

were prohibited. The police saw it as a reasonable

contribution to the community and a constructive use of

poverty. Plus, he didnt bullshit anyone. Money got you a

poem verbatim and with sufficient intonation.

During the summer he would bill himself as a Vietnam vet to

tourists. The seasonal nature of the ploy tipped the locals off

to the farce but weaseling money out of tourists was the

highlight of the season so no one thought badly of him for it.

Dupuis had been drafted but dodged the draft by running to

Canada where he began his career as a bum. When the war

was over, he hitch-hiked to Portland and continued to call the

streets his home. It was a pretty big home to have. He

never resumed his life as an American out of fear for any

repercussions draft dodgers might face. So he was a veteran

of that war, just not the sort people assumed. Thats how he



39/43


40/43

40

explained his past and philosophy on life to News. News

understood none of the words spoken to him but he began to

understand the man the same as if he could. From his tone

and manner News understood that his seclusion was a

pleasant experience and that playing the violin at night was a

sort of release. When Dupuis was tense or nervous some

days he would simply play his violin and then, when he was

done, he would be as calm as though he had just woken from

a great sleep. In many ways, it seemed to be the same sort of

action as reading had been for Sisal who always read when

he had available time or was tense and jumpy. The similarity

was so strong that News inherently believed that when

Dupuis closed his eyes to play he was reading something

there behind his lids.

The nights began to grow colder. The trees grew thinner and

the ground at their feet became thicker. At night, there was a

sharp smell to the breeze and a distinct chill that it carried

with it. Dupuis put cardboard across the open face of the

refrigerator at night to retain more warmth. There were

fewer people on the streets and Dupuis got less and less



41/43

41

money each day. News was always able to find something

he could eat in dumpsters but Dupuis required more food and

couldnt find enough. He took ketchup packets from fast

food restaurants and mixed it into water that he heated over

his small fire. Drinking the banal brew, Dupuis tried to

convince his body that he was eating and getting full. From

his perch, News would gaze into the cup at the swirling

reddish brew. When sunlight shone into the cup it reflected

off the sides and the swirling water reminding him of the red

lights that had sashayed across the walls of the apartment.

After one cold night, News awoke feeling warm despite the

coolness in the air. Those places where his limbs bent felt

tired and dull. Dupuis had already left. He would return

later with ketchup packets and maybe a piece of fruit or two.

News lay huddled beneath the blanket with a small tunnel

through which he peered at the outside world.

Great bits of white dust began to drift by. News watched

them twirl and flutter in the silence. He wondered what used

up sounds had created such large and delicate dust. It would



42/43

42

have to be a greater sound than he had ever heard. Watching

their movements intently he began to see the pattern. It was

the same pattern he had seen in the room with the whittling

man and observed again through the gossamer grate of the

young womans kitchen. News realized then that it was the

pattern that Sisal found in books and that Dupuis read behind

his eyelids as he drew his bow across the strings of the

violin. The image was unchanging and sublime. It was the

entirety of being.

News closed his eyes and felt the unflagging warmth reach

down into the marrow of his bones.

His consciousness drifted away and twirled like the delicate

white dust falling noiselessly outside the refrigerator.

Dupuis found News lying deep within the blankets when he

returned. The premature snow flurry had let up and now the

city smelled richly of damp pavement. News did not wake

when Dupuis rubbed the chestnut fur between his ears.



43/43

Dupuis wrapped News in a cloth from the refrigerator and

tied the little bundle to a brick that lay by the road.

The night was deep. Ripples formed in the water off the

State Pier as it drew the small package into its depths. The

rhythm of the tide smoothed out the ripples in a few short

moments.

A few blocks away, Sisal sat in his room once again smoking

a cigarette and reading Thoreau. Dupuis placed the violin

beneath his grizzled chin. The burning leaves of the

cigarette flared brightly. The violin sighed as the bow

moved across its strings. Sisals breath was gentle as he

turned the page. Dupuis closed his eyes and began to play

with only the ocean and the moon as an audience.

He could make infinity bloom.

sound boxes

Documents