LIFE LINES
eric solibakke
go easy toward madness
arrive fresh and vigorous
arrive with reserves
like odysseus , sufficient to pull
the most recalcitrant bow
AGORA PRESS ONLINE
Oslo, Norway
third edition 1999
1968, 1987, 1999 © eric solibakke
contents
- Invocation
- Lines Written in Athens
- Children of Philapapou
- Salepi
- The Oriental Girl on the Akropolis
- Meditation
- Spring Song
- Celebration
- Windows and Mirrors
- Song
- In Defense of Poets
- Ballet
- Patterns
- Rendezous
- The Sixty-First Day
- Dionysos
- Man , they
- Rain
- Fire
- For Leo Creedon , Who May Kill Me
- Five Christmas Presents
- Bon Voyage
- The Aegean
- War Report
- A Traveler's Note
LIFE LINES
INVOCATION stand with me odysseus
and give me your voice
that i too may find
an end to my travels ,
some ithaka , some island
where my people
have kept my faith
and wait for me .i need your voice
as i need nourishment
and the weight of your voice
to give timbre to mine .you found your ithaka
and returned there full
of the ripeness of age ,
cunning , with the knowledge
when to lift your hand
to strike , and when
to strike out with words ,
when silence .let my wanderings generate
in me the ithaka i seek
at the end of confusion
scarcely less savage
than your own .
fidelity to eye and ear !fidelity to experience !
let your voice speak
through mine with persuasive
gentleness unweakened
by the reach of centuries .stand with me odysseus
and lend me your strength .
LINES WRITTEN IN ATHENS
-- for Emmett JarrettThe weakness is
to dream
to shuffle abstractions and apparitions
to revel in the joy of colors
never seen
to make of sunsets
a sunset , the sunset
as if the cold vapors of
the closed eye
work with gifts greater
than the sky outside the window
the inward window
the inward cinema , let's call itLast month I was admiring the flight of gulls
from the stern of a boat
outside the harbor at Hydra
and questioning my cinematographic
ability to stage anything ,
anything
of such beauty !
gulls !
stop motion !
parabolas !Blaise Cendrars never writes poems down anymore
gulls are abstract
what would you feel with a gull in your hand ?
as if with x-ray vision
I saw through the hovering bodies
to their delicate white skeletons
and said to myself : that's it , that's the core .
feathers ? flesh ? so much baggage !
skeleton = structure the mind senses structure
before the mind understandsLet's make a cinema together
close your eyes and picture3
2 g
u 4
1 l
l
s 5now , animate them
lend them life
give them some of your own
(they will do only what you command)
choreograph them
what better way to praise the flight of gulls
than to remake it
after the way life made it first
and after the way of your own life !Chinese pheasants tremble in the brush
until the last moment
and leap into the air
with a wing whir
that startles even the dogs
hunters return to the city
every sunday during the season
with their full quotas of limp bundles
soft carcasses as if without skeletonsThe weakness is
to make cinemas
of gulls in flight
when the ocean air
is crowded with them
a sea gull is
to soar
the weakness is
to dream of unnatural perfection
and rob the perfections of nature
of the structure of movementsome hunters are looking
for a static point
at which all change is decay
all movement a seizing-up of emotion"I would believe only in a God that knew how to dance" said Nietzsche
The Parable that rapping against the window pane
as if the tapping finger of a night-spirit
is a huge prodigal moth ,
a night-creature
who navigates the five-dimensional sea of darkness
while the powers of growth
are in hiatus ,
a common-looking brown insect
the drab brown of dry , infertile soil ,
but
in the raps against the pane are heard
the desperate sounds of living flesh
and the dry rasps of living wings
against the glassbeyond the yellow nimbus of light from the window
everything waits colorlessly in vague shadows
awaiting the joy of color , form , growthbetween furious flurries of assault
he walks along the frame at the edge
of the pane , as if more calmly
with design hunting an entranceduring those moments
I stare into two black eyes
and two black eyes stare into my eyes
this huge moth
sees me while I see him
and this brown creature
destroys himself no more madly than you or I
with no more prodigality than you or Imy night-companion
by how much larger and more powerful than you I am
I am by that amount less than the power
which can answer your pleathe goal you seek is enclosed in a barrier
equally adamant and unseen as the wall
you waste yourself against
and I tell you ,
friend seeker
for me that light bulb
quivers like an organ ripped from a living body
glistening in a pool of yellow blood
*
The weakness , I say , is
to dream
like a man of my acquaintance
who advocates war
as an opportunity
for men to do such magnificent things
" but men set their limits by action "
and the heroics he imagines
violate the horrors he ignoresCongressionally appointed gentlemen
wear precious metals on their hats
and move around like actors
in an ugly drama
arrogant insignias laminated
over their brains
confined to the real world
of fire power , logistics , strategy
the way a shark is confined by his hungerthey don't especially relish human flesh
and who expects a prehistoric savage to think !I met one once while diving --
a smudge of black paint
daubed on my turquoise canvashe moved without throbbing
like a jet fighter
taxiing on the flight decka crew of pilot-fish
in color coded overalls
giving last-minute instructionsthey look modern
a smooth beauty of essential forms
like a Brancusi
table knives , reading lamps , chairs
modern forms
have finally caught up with the creature
built to penetrate a dense medium with speed and power
to killevolution of beauty
a nineteenth century scholar
argues that human genitals
have not gone though
an " evolutionary process of beautification "your prick is so tiny , she says
are you mad , he yells
lie ! lie to me !another says : I've seen some
marvelously beautiful genitals
on some damned ugly men
and she adds : built to penetrateThe weakness is
to dream
tell me , Blaise
how coldly you must stare out at us
are we wandered so far afield
that you no longer share with us
I tell you , Blaise
we need youApril 26 , 1937 : the German army defends freedom
by destroying Guernica , Euzkadi ,
with incendiary bombs
April 26 , 1966 : the American army defends freedom by
sending " more than 1000 U.S. warplanes
....over North Viet Nam to drop
an estimated 10 million lbs. of bombs
on the country's heartland . "
Hai Duong , Phy Ly , Uong Bi , Thanh Hoathe fires that burn all night in the palaces
are ignited by a brand from the conflagration of hello century of death
what do you dream in your moments of armistice
of women and children rotting on the avenues
of naked trees in springtime
of poisoned food , the cupboard bare
of death hugging you to his bony breast
of burning flesh , man and animal
of smoking earth littered with human limbs
of fireballs as big as cities
snuffing out the lives of cities
working the ravages of ten centuries
in one tenth of one second
of deadly rains bringing winter in april
of empty towns and drab market places
of overthrowing death by usurping his throne
killing of the left , killing on the right
killing in front , killing behind
killing above , killing below
killing before and killing afterLet's make a cinema together
close your eyes and picture
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
eviscerated childrennow , animate them
lend them some of your life
for they have none of their own
stuff vitals into abdominal cavities
replace the cinders that were their eyes
mend the severed necks , twisted limbs
and blow breath into the charred lungsgather them around you like school children
-- their voices will not pipe in song
nor their feet jump to the dance of play --
who , knowing only horror , takes time to play
who , knowing only pain , breaks into song
and you explain to them
from your store of wisdom
from your hoard of feeling
what joy is
what pleasure
what beauty
what happiness
what strength
what health
what fun
I tell you , Blaise Cendrars , poet
we need you
shamelessly
as an infant needs milk" Greek News in Brief " Athens News
Six-year-old Constantine Pizanias was killed when a hand grenade which he had found , and was using as a football , exploded , in Kalymnos on Tuesday .
A 12-year old shepherd , Sotirios Kataroumbas , was killed from the blast of a hand grenade which he had found and was handling , when it suddenly went off , near the village of Riza Epanohoriou , Kephalonia , on Wednesday .
A strange object resembling a bomb was washed ashore on a beach between the villages of Karitsi and Kokkino Nero , Volos , yesterday . Authorities are investigating .
*
The most urgent Greek news is 3000 years old
and is outside my window at this moment
the high-city of Athens
shining under the full moon
as if sculpted from a mountain of silver
where once a goddess of wisdom and justice stood
more skilled at war than Ares himself
within the impregnable height of the parthenontourists swarm in the shell of the temple
reciting dimensions in feet and inches
and reading anecdotes of another epochAthene , where are you now
o majesty of man-woman , warrior of peace
once reigning from your high quarters above the city
once defender of men
once so tall that captains entered the harbor
by the sight of your staff
once so full of life
you blew warmth into the inert clay
and animated the race of man ,
you and Prometheus at PhokisAthene , in what dark chambers do you now lie
in what sunless dungeon do you wait for the tide
of human wisdom and perception to turn
and raise you
again over the city , over all citiesThe full moon throws afternoon-long shadows
in the immense attic silence
a river of lights flows past the far shore of Hymettos
an owl alights on the pavement
Athene speaks :" You must build an new akropolis
" A new temple of Beauty within your soul
" A new high-city of justice
" On the ancient height of wisdom" Listen to the music of joy
and learn the dance of wisdom
" The savior of our world
shall be born of Beauty's Kingdomthe moon begins with its reedy melody
low at first
followed by the stars , growing in volume
then bush , tree , grass add their voices
insect , stream , and stony soil itself
pipe in until the music of joy shakes the earththe music of joy is so thunderous
it appears silent
the dance of wisdom so complex
it resembles stillness
" Beauty is this , Athene says
thundering silence , moving stillness
ololu ololu ololu
* " Dear Eric : I too am griped by many things of the past. Since not much can be done about them, I try not to let them bother me too much. I probably worry more about the future, now that I am old and about out of enthusiasm. I have not found a dream to replace the various past ones. Having always had a dream to think about and be buoyed up by, I feel pretty empty most of the time. Circumstances and I have rather forced me into a corner, albeit one that is pleasant enough....We have not found one person, even, who enjoys sitting with us and listening to good music. Really, about all that is lacking here, for a person without ambition, are a few good friends with whom one can carry on an intelligent conversation. Intellectually and culturally, one might as well be dead as living here. Friends are hard to come by, I find. Most people just want to use each other, I suppose. Wish they would spend some money researching human lonesomeness, rather than reaching for the moon. Dad. "
you are dreaming , Blaise
tell us your dream
*
The hillside slopes upward
grass and loose stones
to the base of sheer granite
that supports the fortificationselbow to elbow
warriors show off their strength
breast plates and plumed helmets
a spear upright in each right handtheir armor shines out
in the full moonlight
over the darker face of stone
so many spheres of consciousness
opening outward
layer upon layer
radiating outward
from the eye at the center
passages directions newness no room in the unbroken rank
for a barbarian , like myself
with dirty feet and torn robe
were my hoard capable of conquering
it would take possession
of a dusty relic , no longer
shining out against the darkness
of the long night , no longer
the citadel of Athene , although
in shape and form as grand as ever ,
only a hollow stone reminder of
things sent to the coil of memoryhere in the land of the past
memory's coil unravels
the tense realizations of pastness
past and present married , of the same spirit
consecrated by death
the paving stones of the past
lie under our feet
the columns and lintels of the past
bear the weight of the present
as they bear the weight of
Pericles , Theseus , Athene
man , hero , goddess
and death for us now here
energizes the mind with its power
and claims its daily tributewith feet still rooted to the rocky soil
piled against the base of the akropolis ,
I feel the tyranny of time changes relax
I have conquered the citadel in the army of my
eastern master and march to take possession
I speak a strange tongue
a language of the East
syntax of conquerors
my djellaba is sewn with silver
my holiest of holy
lies now in Mecca
I come at Mohammed's command
bearing the gift of life
in his name I declare this
modest heap of stone a mosque
my armies march toward the western ascent
and pass out of sight , melting their colors
into the pale colors of October night
the ghoulish colors of full moonalone I face the unscaleable height
with the bouzoukis and guitars of the Plaka
at my back
wooing the tourist dollar
" ho thromos einai skotinos "
the road is darkthe dark road leads from the mind to the world
and passes through all knowledge and all data
returning in the end to the mind
where all meaning takes place" Listen to the music of joy
" and learn the dance of wisdom
" The savior of our world
" shall be born of Beauty's Kingdomthe words of the living goddess mean no more to me
than the beating of waves on the shore
than the howl of wild creatures that hunt in shadows
than the sound of moonlight falling on the airthe words of the living goddess
are whispered to me by the fallen stones at Delphi
and I know she speaks from the other kingdom
freedom from want , freedom from pain
it is Athene at Delphi who fills my ears with death
and death at Delphi which fills my being with life
ololu ololu ololu *
the weakness is
to dream
of another death far removed
of another life somewhere distant
for hell is here and now
and heaven is here and now
Beauty's Kingdom music of joy
savior of our world dance of wisdomBlaise , Blaise
" The spirit of man is being convulsed as was the earth itself in ancient geologic periods. It is death we are shaking off -- the rigidity of death.
The most dazzling possibilities enfold us.
Take this everyday world
and embrace it !
Cease laboring altogether and create !
For Creation is play,
and play is divine. " (Henry Miller)The thrust of diesel-powered propellers
churn the sea gray-green
and bubbly shades of aqua
with white waste like sweat on top of the wavesthe hull banks in a lumbering circle
and takes a course
between outlying islands
hunched like dark beasts on the horizonthe mind so full of shapes
the eye is accustomed to
how simply gulls soar
the breath is their home
unfolded outward
holding wingsful of wind
as you and I would hold a rope
except in the drifts of our imaginations
blue pastures
the color of freedom
sky blue sea blue
the direction of life is upward and outward
effortless altitude
dazzling
above the slowly rolling deck
only two gulls remain
now a third , a fourth , many
and where I had feared poverty
blazes again new feeling
new flight
the play of myriad gulls in the endless dimensions of
sky blue
CHILDREN OF PHILOPAPOU the children of philopapou
wear uniform blue
and play on the hillside under the pines
like a herd grazing
my beard amuses them
and the funny way i dress
so unlike their round fathers
in dark striped suits
and smooth hair
no eyes are darker than athenianthe teachers all sit on rattan chairs
on an outcropping of rock
a scene fellini might invent
the children say : you speak english ?
and think how light the germans are
to be such a dark people
the soil is red and gravelly with potsherds
from uncountable generations
children
understand how strangeness attractsthree girls jumping rope make eyes at me
especially the middle one whose face
is on innumerable vases in the museum
she overtakes me with a weapon
adults lost when they stopped
playing out under the pines
like a grazing herd
military occupation
ranks among the nastiest pastimes
i also consider it unfortunate that germans
tend to look like me
yes , i speak english
i also speak the eye talk , body talk ,
spirit talk you speak when
talking seems remote from your mindsperhaps adults are wiser
but i hasten to swear that my lightness is light
my strangeness conceals no poison
adults wear whatever clothes they want
and look the same
the children wear uniform
blue that shines beneath fresh green treesthe real strangeness clings to rattan chairs
in a landscape of adamant memories
SALEPI the salepi peddler hunched out of the wind
behind a kiosk
with his copper samovar
and copper tray with four copper herb shakers
a charcoal fire
in the base of the samovar
glowed red
against the sidewalk and the polished metal
reflected off dented facets of years of servicesome power in me resisted the unfamiliar
it wasn't the peddler's face
a peasant's
face , round , rutted , openly in rebellion
against the blade
i approached cautiously
and asked in hopeless greek
what it is , the brown liquid
he sells in
white plastic cups
tipping the awkward samovar
over his knee , selecting the spices with a single
movement honed to precision by repetitionone of his waiting customers
a most unlikely interpreter
explained
salepi is good for the throat
taken with cinnamon and pepper
already
when put into english words
the brown juice seemed more attractivei felt the pettiness of having held back
to a limitation i resisted breakingon the tongue salepi feels like the crushed
flesh of soft fruit , guava perhaps
taut spiced as a spring
and covered
with the warm familiarity of cinnamon
perhaps it is good for the throat
perhaps not
but the utter newness
and the taste
an ancient taste , cheerful
salves the formerly restricted spirit
THE ORIENTAL GIRL ON THE AKROPOLIS if stone can embody an idea
the parthenon does it
with the intentional standing
and the unintentional fallen
upright and fallen a chalice of order
opposing , say , chaos
and the tourists contribute their elements
random movement and darknesstoday i want a thunderbolt from this pile of stone
the wind is cold
and fills my eyes with fine dust
when i look off toward the bay of phaleron
where five american warships are anchoredsailors swarm over this rock
with their two-dollar cameras
and sedate almost formal uniforms
they look like groups of mournerstoday i'm begging for thunderbolts
to blast me out of this cell in my brain
the rooms are vacant
i need proofan oriental girl sits at the base of a column
leaning comfortably against the cold stone
she is writing something
a letter to her parents
or a haiku of ideographsshe is alone
other foreign girls are escorted by smooth young greeks
with forty words of english
a half dozen familiar expressions
picked up from american movies
and nervous arm motions
as if conducting their thoughts
pidgin english is the language todaythe men look contented
they screwed the girls during siesta
the girls look happy enough too
maybe they look forward to tonight
the thunderbolt from the loinsi want one from that column of rock
the oriental girl is leaning againstsailors arrive by the busload
from five warships in the bay
they have just come from the war
it's the same war
i wonder if they realize
they are touring the house
of the cleverest warrior of allcome on , athene , blast this smooth stone
under my feetat sunset the guards will drive us all
off the rock like a herd of mountain sheep
and just like sheep
we will all climb down the steps to the road
with sunset like an infection all over
the western sky
and the long rays piercing the pink templethe sailors will return to their warships
and the blond-haired foreign girls will take
their greek boyfriends by the hands
and lead them toward quick hotelsthe oriental girl will find a quiet place
to polish her ideographs
letter or haiku
while athene
waits patiently for the new day
MEDITATION every little birth
is like coming up out of water
into airthe conspiracy : to rob us all
of our sense of well-beingsong is the miracle weapon
i wonder how many thousand years
it takes for a bird to polish his song
up to the standard he wants itthe whole world is a stage
but i am no actorevery place i've been is the place i am
everyman should be joyfully where he isto talk about ' the end ' is false : everything changes
it's the law of the conservation of energythe differences between everything is their similarity
chaos is the natural order of thingswhen i say yes i mean yes
when i say no i mean yes
all i ever mean is yes
SPRING SONG the only way to go is all the way
flat out
blood pounding
blood rising like sap to make flowers
rhythms to mount spring like a wild horse
and ride it into submission
the male prerogative
bloodstiff and quivering to set the pace
seasons constant motion and motive
april is the month of joy
with his shoures soote
the month of revelation
with fecundity jabbing out like bright lights
again i come back to rhythms
it's spring
spring in crete where emmett is
idle as a saint
talking with the chthonic gods
about where the furies disappeared to
under the lid of crete
spring
in athens where i sit on my terrace
in the shade of akropolis
while the smell of new bread blows up
from the bakery on the corner
athens , i say it again
i don't like
the way you spread out like a muddy river
all over the hallowed ground between hymettos and aegaleos
from pireus
all the way up the valley as far as i can see
motion is not progressi've done a little excavating myself
since i've been here
carting off the layers
of modernity that concealed the beautiful
essential savage in me
as i was a few thousand years ago
hobnobbing with dreadful beastsit is my first experience with death
and i survive
my blood is rising like sap this year
CELEBRATION colored hats , masks , noise makers , funny wigs
the tavern owner
has beefed up his force of musicians
people have been saving for a few weeks
and they go out
in a new skirt or a special pair of shoes
they dance a little
chit chat
and have a drink
on street corners where barbary organs wheezenow is the carnival lent
time of the just before !confetti , tambourines , plastic daggers , tin swords
three muskateer and zorro costumes for children
countless little shops appeared this week
in empty doorways and toy stores
on every corner in the plaka policemen
are wearing their grim costumes
in the window of a bridal shop
i saw superman
with the count of monte christofebruary
hangs over the little park at the edge of the plaka
recently built around the choregic monument
of lysicrates -- he put it up himself
to celebrate his support for the play
which won the tragedy competition in march 334 bc
at the city dionysia
the festival of dionysos
a half dozen linden trees
around the base of the ancient memorial
pruned back to stumpy limbs
claw through the candy-scented air
like silent furies
WINDOWS AND MIRRORS between windows and mirrors
in the etheric architecture
massive doors
huge wrought-iron hinges
bolt heads
oak planks
as thick as a man's head
enormous iron locks
(on a chain around my neck
a key that fits one
would hang like an anchorwhile gazing through a window one day
i leaned my shoulder against a door
and it opened silently outwardlater , coming to rest
i examined the old mechanism
and found it had never been locked
SONG to die full of song is ignoble !
let it out !
sing the movements of your mindthe shocks and vague shades ,
meanings , some erupting , some
slow to form , taking shapeminute as atoms , slowly cohering , dividing .
sing the accidental cities ,
the unforeseen countries ,and the places without name or precedent
you live in and visit .
let it out !to die full
to die full of song
to die full of song is ignoble !
IN DEFENSE OF POETS they take things seriously , they believe in beauty
and despise ugliness
pain hurts them , they hate hate
lies bore them
what they did yesterday means something today
everything means something
all they need is something and
already it means
it's all that vitality
it's all that saying : yeah man , let's
it's all that saying : fuck your dainty cautionscautious men get tiny trying to save black lines
drawn on the map you don't see when you walk out
there where the black lines are supposed to be
cautious men are
too busy looking at the map to take a walk out there
where those black lines don't existit's all that saying : a vast creation charges with extreme
grace the windblown pine and windborne smoke
and that chaotic vast
creation is chaos
they're laughing with the universe laughing
suffering against all the tight little islands of security
three squares a day and a roof for the rain
a place to run to when the boss gets mad
taxes paid shoes shined
caution caution caution everything falls from heaven
from the heavens
no news simply no news
there's a wild world out there
bristling with ignorance and unknowns
as long as some bastard is suffering more
that's security
the commuter train on time
that's security
the breakfast jam pure the beef not horse
that's security800 dollars a second ( Nov 1966 ) squandered
in Viet Nam to keep the securities
jam beef and a lot of slant-eyed
" bastards " hungry & dead
2 billion $ a month that's securityeverything means something
the poets all murmuring about beautiful things
joy is old fashioned
a beautiful thing will bring thousands at auction
all beautiful things were made
in antiquity , in the renaissance
now is the time to market them
high water in Florence ruined
Cimabue's triptych
let's make another
twice more beautiful
the great age of cataloging
now is the time of inventoriesscience is right
if the moon won't come to you
you go to it
a satellite festoons the night sky
as beautifully as any star
predictable , so much
more comforting , useful
since manmade and devoid
of mystery
except the mystery of being beautiful
flying across the constellations
beautiful universe makes it beautiful
not man
heaven itself cosmic universe
that's the secret known to poetsthe mystery of the universe makes the manmade beautiful
cast your works into the universe
and they will be beautiful
but beauty doesn't make commuter trains run on time
and beautiful jam can kill you
one risk among many
would you have beauty bound up to you , tail wagging
like a favorite house pet
risk , one risk among many
out of chaos
a triptych more beautiful than Cimabue'sthe unreliables and do-nothings
missing the train , gorging on jam
risk , extension
everything has meaning
give a poet a chance
he'll do his best to tell you
risk makes it worth the effort
and risk makes it rare
what happened yesterday seems ages old
every moment having infinite meanings
every moment plunging backward through time
an infinite distance
awed by every meaning
infinitely awed
the poet opens his mouth
to provide passageway for
words into the world
out of the chaos endlessly flowing
he chooses in the matter no more
than the apple tree chooses
its fruit
a vast creation charges him
BALLET contractors mold a huge building
over a gaping hole in the earthchildren flood out of movie houses
on saturday afternoonbakers work all night like elves
to prepare brown loavesoffice girls shoulder into subways
at five o'clocktrees spring up like artesian wells
ooze squeezes leafy jewels
barnacles comb the seamountains hold the heavens
at a safe distance
PATTERNS from the movements of hands
patterns emerge
and from the stillness of hands
patterns emerge
poised on the air like the grave profile
of a trapeze artist as she launches out
over the netfrom the stillness of stones piled on each other
walls take shape and divide the herds
even the earth
can be owned and the minerals hidden in itthe earth broadcasts influences
like secret radio waves
and the human tendency is toward systems
names catalogs maps files borders compendia
the human tends toward death-stillness
asleep without dreams
the order of stillness
patterns spread out like gas
carrying the essence of deathmeanwhile
as if with the blood of a million dead
the soil heaves with unexpressed passion
RENDEZVOUS tonight i am 28 years old in athens
looking out the window i see the illuminated akropolis
and i say -- greece , i have a rendezvous with youat this moment a white bird
flies along the base of the rock
just above the bank of lightsit traces two lines across the silver stone
one white and pulsating with motion
the other a black shadow silently followingand in the sky above the massive base
clouds and constellations join
to form her towering figure
with orion as her radiant helmet
THE SIXTY-FIRST DAY she takes me to her as if she had no memorydaughter of one man
sister of another
lover of many
28 years in the making
60 nights in my bed
secrets i can only guess at
unfamiliar expressions
my instincts urge me to revere
the female as if memory were alien to her
the feminine strengthens me against sarcasm and satire
DIONYSOS on the plain outside thebes last fall
grapes were bursting out of the ground
and swinging in the sun like golden jewelryi stopped the car to cut a few bunches
and tore off my clothes , posing as dionysos
for my friends to photographnot one frame form any of the three
cameras turned out ; at the time i did that
i thought dionysos was dead
MAN , THEY (1)
man , they
say , is the same
here and there
same man
cave to
cave , same
man , room
to room , man
the needing
animal , needing
warmth from
outfanned hand
needing food from
the farmer's
garden , needing
a roof to
stop the rain
and heat
to warm
the soul , fire
heart , warm
as hell's morning
toast , cave to
cave , room
to room , man
the needing
animal(2)
green peas
on my plate
rare steak
in the street
warm fingers
breath warm
in the night
on my neck
holes mended
ah love ah
love ah ah
love love(3)
handing out
in the dark
hand , heart
in the dark
deeds of love
attitudes
give and take
love's motto
like me be
like me
and take and
give like me
RAIN rain falling through wind
hammers the air to stillness
pummels round sea flatthe house of rain with glassy walls
surrounds me with myriad reflections
and turns them away
with bell-like laughter weepingrain works the air
and forges steel plates
the hills are etched onthe myriad reflections of the house of rain
always fall
FIRE incense is burned in this country
on a small pad of charcoal
impregnated with lighter fluidwhen you touch a match to the charcoal
fire sputters from one end to the other
with an air of inexorabilitythe burning charcoal throws off fumes
that have a characteristic odor
i sniffed once , twice and yes it's therethe smoke reminds me distinctly
of the sputtering combustion of life
burning its way through my flesh
FOR LEO CREEDON , WHO MAY KILL ME for the first time in my life i have an enemy
who is weaker than i am
and i always win when we fight
even when he lies in wait with a flower pothe comes to my house in the middle of the night
and tries to force the front door
to get to his ex-wife who lives with me now
and wants nothing to do with himhe is always drunk when he comes
and that makes it easy for me
to slip out the back door and nail himhe's mad : he can kill you without getting
in trouble because everyone knows
he's crazy ,
his friends tell meno matter who gets killed , i'll be a dead man
sometimes i get carried away
and bash him too hard
he invites it with his stupid
drunken helpless insistence
his face smells like wine when i punch him
after every victory i can puke with shamegod man , quit beating yourself to death
on my fists :
stay away
you don't fit my philosophy anywhere
FIVE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
-- for I. V.miracles in heaven are old hat
limitations restrictions slave of this grounding order
of commerce and talent and the whistling vagabondage
of chance at the time of miracles on earththis whirling planet shows signs of vertigo
with a ho ho here and a ho ho there
here a ho there a ho and everywhere a ho ho
the symbols of miracle pop into shop windows
and the children of santa exclaimthe spirit of giving haunts the streets
in the costume of a jolly shopkeeperon this day the laws of causation
seem more logical than any other day
under the chaotic laws of creationcausation is a false tyranny
for proof i offer you five presents each as
big or small as you want and wrapped any way
you like completely as you would have them
containing only what money can't buyundoubtedly it will take longer than one day
to decide what each present contains
BON VOYAGE we drift along side by side in two boats
and they drift slowly apart nowwe have slipped the sea moorings
that made us one vessel during the calmand acquire sea room in anticipation
of the coming stormeach of us has chosen
to weather the danger in his own crafti raise my voice to hail you now
while you can still hear me
THE AEGEAN the aegean looks dry over the white sand
dry water
sun stone
rocky hills demand their place in the air
houses confer no responsibility
no challenge
white , square , white
blue and the subtle browns of july
the mossy scrub hides nothingvisitors sleep on the white sand
run , talk
and laugh
with their hands on their brown thighs
and never suspect that a kaiki
fell on jason
not very long ago
they must have carried his old body
solemnly over these brown hillsaegean blue dim as memory of his eyes
senses the thrust and rake
of the papery wind
the edge of the sea deceives my eyes
i urge it into existence
like the air giving the hills room
and the sea room
and room for the white houses
under the sun
WAR REPORT -- bulletin --
in 2000 years rome added nothing to language
but satire and one good copy of homerthe roman mind thinks only war-commerce
and its language is a tool of war-commercethe opposition forces of truth-beauty
rally under the leadership of shakespeare
cervantes blake rimbaudcaution : the romans are winning again
the opposition is being sacrificed like beasts-- front lines --
on all sides i hear explosions
from factories , city streets , in the air
engines , machines , bombs
i hear the ear-destroying sounds
of matter-into-energy , the flesh-rending
noises of steel against steelpoor efforts to make , to create depend
on the destruction of matter , the air
we take into our lungs , the earth
we walk on and cast eyes on ,
the water and nourishment
we no longer trust to support lifethe new sounds
added to the spectrum of hearing
by this modern age grate against my earsthe invention of the violin
and mastery of its technique
is a slow explosion of energy-into-matter
of greater magnitude than the explosions
of matter-into-energy that destroyed
himoshima , nagasaki , that propel trucks
tanks , those awkward bombers , and so onwe who created the atomic explosion
have forgotten
that we were once capable of creating
the violin-- rear echelon --
huge snowflakes swirl like white feathers
and the boughs of the pine pitch
like the decks of ships on a wild seathrough the window i watch a small bird
struggle against the snowy blasts
and i'm ashamed that we abandoned him
and all the others
who hold their thin bodies erect
under our burdensi want to invite this bird into
the warmth of my roomall that i know of protection
from strong wind and snow
i would pass on to him , to comfort him
and all that he knows
of the delicate manoeuvers of flight
he would make gift of to mehe could rest in cheerful comfort with me
during this storm , and later in the spring
i could fly with him
over a host of bright-colored valleys
note : angels are not only provided with an excellent pair of wings , they also have the necessary breathing adaptation and body control to swim under water with the fish . in fact , angels look like a beautiful new animal made up of man , fish and bird . one of their primary gifts is the language of all living things down to the very life contained in stones , and there is great comradeship between angels and all living things.
A TRAVELER'S NOTE
gray day in athens rainathens is weeping
tomorrow i leave
weep goddess
cold tears of sorrow
i too grieve
i am full of fear
charming lady weep
for a lover who travels
for a traveler
who loves and goes
history
story of man's struggle against himself
imagination
sees the features of the devil
more clearly than the flesh of god
rain
pocks into the shallow lake
on the terrace
AFRTS network
over the transistor
' strangers in paradise 'space interpenetrates
and functions on two
separate levels
the actual cuts across the possible
like a plane
of extension without depthbeyond the gray'd-out sky
sun burns through the blue
and the pirouette of stars
time slowburns through my flesh
the same time that records
the struggle against himself that
man calls history
man is a slave
of his possibilities
enslaved in the thin
plane of the actual
law
the testimony of doubt and fear
man is not grand enough
to support his own greatnessi was too saddened by joy to tell you
i am a stranger always
a traveler with love in my heart
and i am real
a traveler with a heartful of realness
Quiet Clouds, part 1: Lifelines
Quiet Clouds, part 2: Pause , Pulse
Quiet Clouds, part 3: Drywater