Thursday, October 22, 2009

Spanish Shawl: Beat Poetry, and Gerard Manley Hopkins's poetry, and Loving Bliss

Beat Poetry, and Gerard Manley Hopkin's wild, beautiful, sound-rhythm-word poetry, ~ and with loving bliss? How?

The poetry I've written in this blog is in a tradition of Beat Poetry (e.g. Gary Snyder), in many ways. I'd like to articulate it with approaches to poetry which Gerard Manley Hopkins makes happen extraordinarily - ...

The Woodlark

TEEVO cheevo cheevio chee:
O where, what can tháat be?
Weedio-weedio: there again!
So tiny a trickle of sóng-strain;
And all round not to be found 5
For brier, bough, furrow, or gréen ground
Before or behind or far or at hand
Either left either right
Anywhere in the súnlight.
Well, after all! Ah but hark— 10
‘I am the little wóodlark.
. . . . . . . .

To-day the sky is two and two
With white strokes and strains of the blue
. . . . . . . .

Round a ring, around a ring
And while I sail (must listen) I sing
. . . . . . . .

The skylark is my cousin and he
Is known to men more than me
. . . . . . . .

…when the cry within
Says Go on then I go on
Till the longing is less and the good gone 20

But down drop, if it says Stop,
To the all-a-leaf of the tréetop
And after that off the bough
. . . . . . . .

I ám so véry, O soó very glad
That I dó thínk there is not to be had…
. . . . . . . .

The blue wheat-acre is underneath
And the braided ear breaks out of the sheath,
The ear in milk, lush the sash,
And crush-silk poppies aflash,
The blood-gush blade-gash 30
Flame-rash rudred
Bud shelling or broad-shed
Tatter-tassel-tangled and dingle-a-dangled
Dandy-hung dainty head.
. . . . . . . .

And down … the furrow dry
Sunspurge and oxeye
And laced-leaved lovely
Foam-tuft fumitory
. . . . . . . .

Through the velvety wind V-winged
To the nest’s nook I balance and buoy 40
With a sweet joy of a sweet joy,
Sweet, of a sweet, of a sweet joy
Of a sweet—a sweet—sweet—joy.’


And health promoting practices, like a low fat ovo-lacto vegetarian diet (5-9 servings of fruits, grains and vegetables) and movement /exercise didn't always go hand-in-hand with the culture of Beat poetry, which phased into counterculture, where, as Allen Ginsberg puts it in the first (long) sentence of "Howl"


I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,

dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machin-
ery of night,

who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,

who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene-
ment roofs illuminated,

who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,

who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the

who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn-
ing their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,

who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night

with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al-
cohol and cock and endless balls,

incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of
Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the mo-
tionless world of Time between,

Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook-
lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind ...


Can we sing and beat together, and generate flourishing wellness?


So, how to engage Beats, Hopkins and health practices, to generate loving bliss. In what ways could such poetry become code for generating loving bliss, like some music brings me "there.' And for you?



Nudibranchs - Sea Slugs

... from the Harbin pools?

( - October 22, 2009)

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