Big Sur (19 page)

hanging here cant make it

in the void—The sea'll

only drown me—These words

are affectations

of sick mortality—

We try to make our way

in self reliance, aid

not ever comes too quick

from wherever & whatever

heaven dear may have

suggested to promise us—

 

But these waves scare me—

I am going to die

in full despair—

Wake up where?

On second breath in life

the atmosphere is dearer

maybe closer to Heaven

—O Paradise—

Is the sea really so bad?

Have you sent men

here for this cold clown

& monstrous eater at the

world? whose sound

I mock?

 

God I've got to believe in you

or live in death!

Will you save us—all?

Soon or now?

Send illumination

to our drowning brains

—We're pitiful, Lord,

we need yr help!

Save us, Dear—

(Save yourself, God man,

ha ha!)

If you were God man

you'd command these waves

to very well Tennyson stop

& even Tennyson

is dear

now dead

Leave it to the light

Concern yourself with supper,

& an eye

 

somebody's eye—a wife,

a girl, a friend, an animal

—a blood let drop—

he for his sea,

he for his fire,

thee for thy desire

 

“The sea drove me away

& yelled ‘Go to your desire!'

—As I hurried up the valley

It added one last yell:-

‘And laugh!'”

 

Even the sea cant stop me from

writing something to read in my old age

—This is the chart of brief forms,

this sea the briefest—Shish yourself—

After scaring me like that, Mar,

I'll excoriate yr slum—yr

iodine weeds & slime hoops,

even yr dried hollow seaweed

stinks—you stink all over—

Boom—Try that, creep—

The little Monterey fishingboat

glides downward home 15 miles to go,

be home to fried fish & beer b'five—

It guides the sea its bird routes—

—Silver loss forever outward

—From blue sky of human bridges

to the massive mawkcloud sea center

heap—to the gray—

Some boys call it gunboat blue,

or gray, but I call it

the Civil War of Rocks

—Rocks ‘come air, rocks ‘come water,

& rock rocks—

Kara tavira, mnash grand bash

—poosh l'abas—croosh

L'a haut—Plash au pied—

Peeeee—Rolle test boulles—

Manche d'la rache—

The handsome King prevails

over boom sing bird head—

“Crache tes idées,” spit yr ideas,

says the sea, to me, quite

appro priate ly—

Pss! pss! pss!

Ps! girl inside!

Red shoes scum, eyes of old

sorcerers, toenails hanging down

in the barrel of old firkin cheese

the Dutchman forgot t'eat that

tempest

nineteen O

sixteen—

When torpedoed by gunboat

Pedro in the Valley

of a Million Fees?

 

When Magellan crosseyed

ate the Amazonian feet—

And, Ah, when Colombo cross't!

When Drake sir francised the waves

with feeding of the blue jay

dark—pounded his aleward

tank before the boom,

housed up all thoughts of Erik

the Red the Greenland caperer

& builder of rockdungs in New

Port—
New
—yet—

Oldport Indian Fishhead—

Oldport Tattoo Kwakiutl Headpost

taboo potash Coyotl potlatch?

Old Primitive Columbia.—

Named for Colom
bus
?

Name for Aruggio Vesmarica—

Ar!—Or!—Da!

What about Verrazano?

he sailed!—

He Verrazano zailed & we

statened his Island in on deep

in on dashun—

Rotted the Wallower?

Sinners liars goodmen all

sink waterswim drink Neptune's

nectar the zal sotat—

Zal sotate name for crota?

Crota ta crotte, you aint

'bout to find (Jesus Christian!)

any dry turds here below—

Why fo no?

Go crash yonder rock

of bleak with yr filet mignon teeth

& see—For you, the hearth,

the heart, the lock of hair—

For me, for us, the Sea,

the murdering of time by eating

lusty cracks of lip feed wave

at aeons of sandy artistry

till nothing's left but old age

newmorning primordial pain

of sitters by

the unborn

bird

of roses yet undone—

 

With weeds your roses,

sand crabs your hummers?

With buzzers in the sea!

With runners in the deep!

This Sceptred Osh, this wide leg

spanning rock U.S. to rock

Ja Pan, this onstable

roller roaming all,

this ploosher at yr gory

dry dung door, this mouth

of silverwhite arring to hold thee,

this purger of conscience

arra for thee—

No mouse in here but's got

a little glee—and

aft, or oft, the osprey

in his glee's agley—

Oh purty purty ocean

me—

Sop! bring the Scepter down!

Again you've accepted me!

 

Breathe our iodine, filthy yr drink,

faint at feet wet, drop

yr profile move it in the sea,

float weeded watery Adonais

longs for thee—& Shelley three,

that's three—burn in salt

with slow most change—

We've had no crack at eternity

in a billion years of trying—

one grain of sand possesses

3 thousand worlds of glee—

not to mention me—

Ah sea

 

Ah si—Ah so—

shoot—shiver—mix—

ha roll—tara—ta ta—

curlurck—Kayash—Kee—

Pearls pearls in the yellow West

—Yellow sky to China—

Pacific we named here

water as always meeting

water—Pacific Pacific

Pacific tapfic—geroom—

gedowsh—gaka—gaya—

Tatha—gata—mana—

What sails used old bhikkus?

Dhikkus? Dhikkus!

What raft mailed Mose

to the hoven dovepost?

What saved Blackswirl

from the Kidd plank?

What Go-Bug here?

Seet! Seeeeeeeeeee

eeeeeee—kara—

Pounders out yar—

 

Big Sur they call this sand

these rocks this creek?

Raton Canyon by name pours

Coyote leaves & old Pomo bones

& old dust of Tomahawks

into your angler'd maw—

My salt maw shall salvage

Taylors—sewing in the room

below—

Sewing weed shrat for hikers

in the milky silt—

Sewing crosswards

for certainty—Sartan

are we of Price Victory

in this salt War with thee

& thine thee jellied yink!

Look O the sea here called

Pacific Sea!

Taki!

 

My golden empty soul'll

outlast yr salty sill

—the Windows of my jelly eye

& fish head muck look out on thee,

slit, with cigar-a-mouth,

some contempt—

Yet I hie me to see you

—you hie thee to eat

me—Fair in sight

and worn, aright—

Arra! Aroo!

Ger der va—

Silly silent cities in the sea

have children playing cardboard

mush with eignyard old Englander

beeplates slickered oer with scum

of histories below—

No tempest as still & awful

as the tempest within—

Sorcerer hip! Buddhalands

& Buddhaseas!

What sails Maudgalyayana used

he only knows to tell

but got kilt by yellers

sreaming down the cliff

“Let's go home!

Now!”

—leave marge smashed djamas

Maudgalyayana was murdered by the sea—

But the sea dont tell—

The sea dont murder—

The seadrang scholars

oughter know that

or

go back to School

 

Hear over there the ocean motor?

Feel the splawrsh of it?

Six silly centepedes here, Machree—

Ah Ratatatatatat—

the machinegun sea, rhythmic

balls of you pouring in

with smooth eglantinee

in yr pedigreed milkpup

tenor—

Tinder marsh aright arrooo—

arrac'h—arrache—

Kamac'h—monarc'h—

Kerarc'h Jevac'h—

Tamana—gavow—

Va—Voovla—Via—

Mia—mine—

sea

poo

 

Farewell, Sur—

 

Didja ever tell him

about water meeting water—?

O go back to otter—

Term—Term—Klerm

Kerm—Kurn—Cow—Kow—

Cash—Cac'h—Cluck—

Clock—Gomeat sea need

be deep I see you

Enoc'h

soon anarf

in Old Brittany

 

 

21 August 1960

Pacific Ocean at Big Sur

California