Read Online Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr by Hubert Selby Jr. - Free Book Online Page B

I
stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting,
dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But
the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, . . .
    the drama of the moment swelled her breast and the
poem came forth with beauty and feeling and the waves from her
mouth caused the candle flames to flicker and she
knew that everyone saw a Raven in the shadows
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and
this mystery explore—
Let my heart
be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
          'Tis the wind and nothing more!" . . .
    and she was no longer merely reading a poem, but she
was the poem and every word was coming from her soul and all the
wonderful shadows whirled around her
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad
fancy into smiling,
By the grave and
stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though
thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven
wandering from the Nightly shore . . .
    The guys were staring and Vinnie seemed so close she
could feel the sweat on his face and even Lee was listening and
watching her read and they all knew she was there; they all knew she
was THE QUEEN.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a
feather then he fluttered—
Till I
scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have
flown before."
          Then the bird said "Nevermore." . . .
    Vinnie was staring at Georgette and the shadows that
highlighted her eyes, then her cheeks, then her eyes . . . thinking
it was a shame she was gay. Hes a good lookin guy
and real great, especially for a queen . . . being honestly moved by
Georgettes reading, but even with the bennie stimulating his
imagination it was impossible for him to get beyond the weirdness and
the kick
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this
ominous bird of yore—
What this
grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
          Meant
in croaking "Nevermore."
This
I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To
the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at
ease reclining
On the cushions velvet
lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, . . .
          She, shall press, ah, nevermore! . . .
    and the Bird was blowing (can you hear him Vinnie?
Listen Listen Its the Bird. Can you hear him? Hes blowing love.
Blowing love for us) and the incongruent rhythms of the Birds whirled
and rang . . . then reconciled and O God it is beautiful
". . . Quaff, oh quaff this kind
nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
          Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."
"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!
prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether
Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this
desert land enchanted . . .
    and through a rip in the black shade she saw dancing
points of gray and soon light would streak the sky and the shadows
would soften and dance and the soft early morning light would seep
through the room pushing the shadows from the now darkened corners
and the candles soon would be out
And the Raven, never flitting, still is
sitting, still is sitting
On the
pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And
his eyes have all the seeming of a demons that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his
shadow on the floor;
And my soul from
out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
          Shall be lifted—nevermore!
    and the Bird was blowing a final chorus, high, and
the set wouldnt end, but the Bird would slowly fade and you would
never know when he really stopped and the sounds would hang and roll
in your ear and all would be love—Quoth the Bird Evermore—and the
flames bowed and licked the edge of the candles and even Harry didnt
fight his lethargy and try to break the spell and Georgette lowered
the book to her lap with full dramatic