21
“one had to make it up—“
going round,
Sorrow—
didn't want to
lose
Sorrow,
didn't want to get over it
Fear—
and link him
back to the cycling world
the EartH
all come round
Gaia—Worl-D
he didn't want to get over this
didnt want to get over
the towering clouds, each day
Sorrow, Sorrow
leaving
never forget, the clouds
the leaves, the waves
forming
Sorrow, leaving
sadness
scraping, leaf dragging
round
22
mirroring round, the grey thought
silent sun
the paintings were all lined up
on the StudiO floor,
the Earth
sharp light, low from distance
he saw it from the moon
from perspective of the snowman
from the basic slate and ice,
behind,
the stars
streaming beyond—
turned the corner
rising up,
she gasped—
the granite face
looming
death the larger part
staring, unmoved
green marble in the midst
Yes, Crispin had found something
the crumpled up —
life, turning
holding it in his head
that diminished thing—
23
the colors revolving
into night
going round
smudge of space
a galaxy
comet dust
streaming beyond
wheeled out to glimpse,
the blanketed knees,
turning to the sun
there on the edge of the Villa
tiny temples
the words
and verses
simple altars along the lonesome
trail
bells, wind, tinkling—
humble pilgrimage
his life
the American hOpE
naming it’s MountainS
his friends,
the birds
alone at the hearth
fire gazing above
24
to smeared starlight
sliding down
to morning light,
spring arriving,
he was On the Road, again
and he was Taking off from
the Bridge, stepping off
the Crispin Mind
umpteenth time
epic force and zowie PoW—!
the all we had
to Amer—i-ca!
and sprig of Lilac, Walt broken, tally
this love, for all, he saw
Imaginative meander
he’d been there,
he was the man —
he suffered—
he cried, without shoes
this glimpse
Earth spinning
beneath his feet, to step forth
would be good ending
or beginning again,
reaching, falling, tumbling over
25
and again, in the waves
the turning to light
into night
morning blinded
autumn dusk
and purpling
ever morning
fresco decorating the space
it told the truth
redrawing and evolving
restore that glory of—
the deteriorating
mean, and recreating
diamond hard
silver like
etched
sinopia, beneath
put forth in whirl
abstract
—part
all a —part
the specific red color
the ReD square,
they’d thrown out
the mystery of form
26
the countenance of character
beyond his order
and rough style
desert wind
temple
height
religion before religion
Daisyworld
fullness in every direction
round and round
delicious globe
and more as it was alive
pecking
along the road
gobbling up the seed, strewn
lonely road
over and over
round and round
green turning to blue
between falling and rising sun and
moon crank
universe creak
planeterium motion
Jack had hoped—
had glimpsed
27
the unknown quest
ever present—
gone and traced
blue figure
she would be gone
ImaGinativE
flower and song
into spring and All
FlOweR MoUnTaiN
KatSinA face
and gone
spiraled
genius
ideal in the star
Prophet of the poke weed
Crispin by the fencepost
his shout over the world
chick-a -dee—dee—dee
next go around
our patch
the horizon greets us with change
fingernail moon
still darker pine
whizzing round
a wave
28
revolving
it’s getting crowded,
flat thoughts
abstracting us
numerical reality
death
haunted, measure
tumbling
through spring
summer love
and winter
drowning men with arms upraised
the rushing stream— and over the falls
wheeee
Ho—
reaching for the olive—
the single motion
he arrived over and over
and to fall
as if,
as if
it was ever real
hoping
for another
moment in the sun
29
the rotation
a spiraling, OuT
comes round
progress
and regress
an altar
to this end
meant some resolution
resolved into—
the parts
towards some end
which was another moment
tumbling
evolving
falling
next moment
pass pass
the crank creak—
Suns and Planets
the HerO in the—
SuN
holding the flower
revolving wave—
lap— and pass
Would be lifE—
30
contemplating— this wonder,
MorE LiFE!
not to see this HeaveNly—?
cascading— ‘round
it was all part, of the change
the reason
to explain
SeaSoNs
he would just sit there
the slight smile
it would revolve
around his head
the EartH,
the turning
and turning
blue to yellowing reality
that Jack would represent
going round
to follow back
simple earth returning,
the PoetrY before religion
vivid heaven
green and blue
a leaf in a bowl,
this going around
31
merely—.
HigH uP in the Bow
OnE eYed JacK
Hee Ho!
ka—boom
poor fella Crispin
he said,”lucky —”
splash and swipe of hair
from brow
He HO! spray and bump
and onward from this day
Hee HeE RoO!
spying glass and bumping— spray
boom
HOO, he had opened—
his mouth
HA!— to SinG?
revolving whizzing
rising up!
symphonic
loud sound and—
incoherent volume
a new,
the NeW— another NEW!
direction, and SoUtHeRn
32
ImaGiNatioN
across America! Ho! Ho!
there Jack let it out—
this country, tiss of thee
Mountain blue and waving amber
The scene,
would one write such—?
Thou PokEweeD!
ragweed flower in the autumn air—
chilling as the, cricket song
The pink translucence
and the walk, back to the car
giggling wave
he became
each thing
he lost his heart to,
the world was all
out there
he became it
he was making what had —
been forbidden
The American Fresco
a siMpLe truth,
given to him
by that song
33
Jack saw and painted
it into his world
his spinning
bowl he lived upon and in
the wind
on Crispin face
TherE !
looking out
“why was it yet unfound..”
pilgrimage
to lost places
the HolY birds had taken him
Crispin followed
the colors
spaces they flew
silhouetted
and blazoned
the heroic fella
making cartoon fresco
cracked myth and
Brooken HerO
it was all a dream
we had ever been alive
all cheerful on that long rope
jumping into the creek
34
silly story and
beep BeeP
in the winding space
the LoonY
TunE
that was All Folks,
magic SalamandeR under the rock
that had given him, his-self
that spotted Indian glinT
looking back
from space that heaven
walking in the world
the cricket sound, striped
the frog croaK— hatched
SwuawK
of NighT HeroN, ascending
song between
making this world, this —
new world,
that Jack was here
strange SubLimE
“StranGe”, he said
doubling the
“c”, the crickets
an aesthetic DignitY he sought
35
the clap of hands
coming fast now
small WisdoM
the clouds
the leaves
the waves,
just Heaven here
a complex difficulty
the ideas were the gods
everywhere
gods—
the silent deer
looking back—
empty road
a metaphor before Achilles
The game,
Jack played.
OH, CrispiN HeaveN!
This Earth,
revolving
No comments:
Post a Comment