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Alight upon the light, Either aether, murmuring memories, On a silent summer evening The sky's alive with light Building in the distance Surrealistic sight, sounds of the universe
By Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Long long I lay in the sands.
Sounds of trains in the surf
in subways of the sea
And an even greater undersound
of a vast confusion in the universe
a rumbling and a roaring
as of some enormous creature turning
under sea and earth
a billion sotto voices murmuring
a vast muttering
a swelling stuttering
in ocean’s speakers
world’s voice-box heard with ear to sand
a shocked echoing
a shocking shouting
of all life’s voices lost in night
And the tape of it
someow running backwards now
through the Moog Synthesizer of time
Chaos unscrambled
back to the first
harmonies
And the first light
Esme's Cloud 
very cloud-like.
I’ll stick with Parker:
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
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Now that is a poem. One of my favourites from the first time I read it over twenty years ago. Dorothy was a wry, quite exceptional writer, I have everything she wrote so far as I know.
Excellent choice Mr Pink – nods a great deal and shakes his hand.
Have another from her back ;
The Whistling Girl
Back of my back, they talk of me,
Gabble and honk and hiss;
Let them batten, and let them be-
Me, I can sing them this:
“Better to shiver beneath the stars,
Head on a faithless breast,
Than peer at the night through rusted bars,
And share an irksome rest.
“Better to see the dawn come up,
Along of a trifling one,
Than set a steady man’s cloth and cup
And pray the day be done.
“Better be left by twenty dears
Than lie in a loveless bed;
Better a loaf that’s wet with tears
Than cold, unsalted bread.”
Back of my back, they wag their chins,
Whinny and bleat and sigh;
But better a heart a-bloom with sins
Than hearts gone yellow and dry!
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Wonderful Esme! After the first read, I felt as if I was on the shore, hearing, listening to the callings of aquatic mammals… unsure if they were warnings, invitations, or cries for help.
Or maybe all three at various times? (smiles and frets)
Nevertheless, it moved me. Thank you Ma’am.
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You’re very welcome Professor smiles. All three you mention, and much, much more I suspect.
There is nothing as large as the something he speaks of.
(No need to fret unless your violin is staying out late and causing a fracas regularly at the local line dancing club).
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Hahaha! Ahhh… you are SO funny Esme! (winks a Lone Star campfire sorta wink!)
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Tis an affliction.
But thank you. curtsies and smiles.
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For me, this captures that blurred line between pure percepts of the raw senses and that which our imagination overlays upon them. Do you know what I mean – the way the mind seeks to create order from chaos, search out patterns and meaning even if there are none in actuality? There’s a crossover point of course, a blurred line which is neither the clear perception of things, nor non-perception or no-thing-ness.
When I lived on the Cornish Coast, I would often meditate on a lonely beach facing the Atlantic – at a place called Millook, actually. Typically, at first the sounds of the waves would be perceived as ‘sounds of waves, waving’; then as the allotted hour progressed and concentration deepened, perceptual activity dissolved and with that, the world disappeared, sort of thing. laughs Anyway, the timer would beep after 60 minutes and I would open my eyes still in that non-perceiving (non-interpreting) state. It was quite magnificent to experience the rollers crashing in towards me without any ideas about the experience – just raw happening, so to speak.
So, the way I’m reading Ferlinghettis’ work is that he’s on the cusp of this kind of percept/no-percept experience, especially given the closing words: “back to the first harmonies and the first light.” It’s not that in the end there is nothing, but there are no things perceived. On the way to this point, the mind constructs from abstract sense inputs some sort of familiarity, which is the only thing the conscious mind understands, and consciousness is all about (mis)understanding, of course. I doubt very much this is what he means, but that’s my take, my reading, my (mis)interpretation.
Hariod
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“then as the allotted hour progressed and concentration deepened, perceptual activity dissolved and with that, the world disappeared,” – I know how this feels, it’s a kind of magic to my mind (banishes Freddie who has appeared stage left waving at the waves).
I enjoyed your translation Hariod, beautifully put as ever nods and I agree, though translated it all in a much simpler fashion to a simpler mind, in as much as… he’s listening. To the sand, the earth, the world, the universe, the sounds of the universe, every single one of them, and it is a vast cacophony of ‘everything’. Larger in scale and proportions than we humans can ever conceive of, and then… the vacuum cord shuttles back (again perhaps), farther and farther until the very beginning of the end of the beginning of the…. And there lies the first sound. Whatever that may be.
It reads as humongous to esme.
Milook is lovely! I had a look on ‘images search’. Thank you for the thought put into this comment H.
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Yes, that too, which perhaps seems more or less the same thing, though looked at from a different perspective, save for my prosaic insistence upon relating to the mundane and fixating upon how things work in time rather than embracing a more creative, eternalised vision. Speaking of which, then I loved these lines from the work you link to:
“Together yet apart they hurtled backwards,
To be caught warmly, effortlessly
By separate terra firmas of autonomous worlds.
Comfortable fields of bright corn
Arm in arm with solid landscapes of contentment.”
And then following on later with these:
“Different lives, differing planets,
Alternate worlds, alternative dimensions.
Male or female, alike and unlike alike.
Aeons rose and insouciantly passed by,
Yet still, regardless of times toll,
The chain of fire between them remained.
. . .
It was, as it had always been, forever and a day.”
Inspiringly beautiful. H ❤
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“Yes, that too” – Hahahahahaha. That tickled me. I think you are more grounded, more of the earth than esme, who is all over the show in the Clouds most of the time. That is not to say we don’t spend time quite comfortably in each others habitats, for we do smiles broadly.
“Inspiringly beautiful.” – Well shucks, thank you Hariod. I was reminded of it by the vacuum cleaner cord, and it is probably my favourite out of all the collections of words sonmi/esme has produced, so I am honoured you find it so.
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Ah, I see what you mean: “Yes, that too . . . all that head-in-the-clouds poetic nonsense about eternity”. Hmm . . . perhaps I should’ve phrased myself more carefully. Funnily enough – or is it boringly enough? – I’ve just been reading about how some scientists are looking into why we can’t experience the past or the future. It sounds absurd, but from a physics point of view, both ought to be accessible as all time already exists as proven fact. According to them, then in one sense “it was, as it had always been, forever and a day”.
“I think you are more grounded, more of the earth than Esme” – Well, we’re all one cosmic body really, so you wear the hat, and I’ll wear the boots. We’ll talk later about who gets to scratch the cosmic bum.
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“perhaps I should’ve phrased myself more carefully.” – No, not at all, I wouldn’t have been laughing then would I?! Hahahahaha. I knew what you meant, it just reads very, hmm, very Hariod I suppose laughs some more. That is not a bad thing I hasten to add.
All the leading scientists of the day (forever and a) read this blog and make notes, then try to pass off all the Cloud and Esme’s knowledge of the universe and beyond as their own. It’s a disgrace is what it is, is what it is, yes. It is. – looks knowledgeable-ish.
“you wear the hat, and I’ll wear the boots. We’ll talk later about who gets to scratch the cosmic bum.”– That’s a great name for a band – ‘Cosmic Bum’!
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Ask the anus.
Hahahahahaha.
I wonder who is ‘behind’ all this? – bows pleased that she managed to avoid any planetary puns
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My thought is that I would like to make the subject of this piece my ringtone. And watch what happens in the room when I get a phone call.
The downside of course is I would never answer the phone, actually. Just keep begging people to call me.
Michael
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As a ringtone. Brilliant, hahahahaha. How perfect.
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