May 2019
Robert Knox
rc.knox2@gmail.com
rc.knox2@gmail.com
Note: This is the most complicated note I have ever attempted to write. Two of these poem below, "At the Ivy Gate" and "The Melancholy Calls of the Night" were influenced by poems published in the April issue by, respectively, Robert Wexelblatt ("The Last Poem of Chen Hsi-wei") and Steve Klepetar ("Old Neighborhood" and "Whenever She’s Awake ). I borrowed the phrase "wind-borne chaff" directly from Wex's poem, which influenced the atmosphere of philosophical renunciation in both of those poems of mine: Vanity of vanities, sayeth the preacher, all is vanity. The lively account of boyhood in Steve's childhood-evocation poem "Old Neighborhood" prompted the second part of my poem "The Melancholy Calls" (beginning "my cousins were always breaking their arms"), and his poem "Whenever She’s Awake" prompted the ending of mine. As if that wasn't enough borrowing, the title "At the Ivy Gate" is owed to an instrumental song by Brian Crain. And the title and some lyrics in "May All Be Blessed (With Some Exceptions)" are borrowed from Jahnavi Harrison's recording of "May All Be Blessed: Hari Om."
At the Ivy Gate*
Such wind-borne chaff I write today,
the gate blowing listlessly in the wind
Ah, love! -- ah, spring --
Once more you rouse me from this calm
passage, a sail boat drifting on the open sea
to the final port
on the gray misty ocean where
the fantasy heroes await us with sad smiles
Ah, spring! -- ah, time
Always we think we are riding you, fine beast
of animal flesh between our thighs
But you are riding us
to that final stable
where we lay in the bed of old straw,
on our side, breathing to the gait of the final beats --
Oh, song of my heart...
a petitioner for some heavenly hail-ride service,
I wave and stand on tiptoes
at the end of the avenue
while the parade goes by
*Title borrowed from a song by Brian Cain; heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSVyWIzoHPA
The Melancholy Calls of the Night
I should not listen by day
to the evening's melancholy music,
or I will not write my daylight songs,
fresh news of the cardinal wailing his springtime summons
from a stout branch directly above my head,
exercising his droit de seigneur over my modest holding
and declaring his red-feathered need for love
-- less in oblivion to my presence
than in full code-red possession of his need
Strange to think of the songs I sang long ago
and can no longer remember. They too will become so
much wind-blown dream fuzz,
having also served their uses
as stuffing under the door
to keep the March wind at bay
2.
My cousins were always breaking their arms,
jumping from daring heights,
or mixing it up with upscale village thugs
I was more cautions, more lucky, less breakable, more solitary,
better served by a modestly privileged subdivision
mobbed by fugitives from prewar economic and family trauma
The wounds of our parents did not show on our bodies.
Scraped knees a small price to pay for all that freedom
Once I stepped blithely upon an upturned nail in my sneakers,
impaling an arch
(as Count Dracula, legend holds, disposed of his 'Turkish' captives)
and, reporting this wound to my wounded mother,
was advised, cautiously,
"Wash it, maybe."
Given such examples of childhood wounds,
I washed in private; soaped in silence.
Tell me about your mother, I should have asked
years -- decades -- before such tenders became useless,
stuff of no value, like all lost memories
and the worthless currency printed by long-suppressed rebellions.
"What do you remember about your father?"
I asked, posing my own middle-aged riddle to my
already fading mother.
"Nothing'... Simple truth, and testimony of childhood losses
Fortunate son of surviving parents,
unbroken limbs, and the middling sort of comforts,
candy after church and toys at Christmas,
I should have grasped them to my body,
held them close and listened,
till their hearts gave up their secrets.
May All Be Blessed (With Some Exceptions)
"May All Be Blessed," she sings.
Hari Om Tat Sat, meaning (I discover)
"Supreme Absolute Truth" --
From the beginning of Creation, I am told,
these words were used.
Where would we be without supreme absolute truth?
Chanting these hymns of the Vedas during the sacrifices
I offer a few nominations for the sacrifices --
and for the satisfaction of the suffering inflicted
on those too numerous to account
-- I would receive supreme satisfaction from having the Supreme Commander
have a pole stuck up his ass --
Hands in the air for calming of passions!
'Go peacefully amid the noise and haste'
Om Tat Sat
Peace and love
... and yet this burning inside
this yearning for the Supreme Absolute Truth
these three symbolic representations -- ideas, words, memes,
idioms, images, prayer songs used in the Brahmanas* --
and where are the Brahmanas when we need them? --.
while chanting the hymns of the Vedas**
Would that be Dark Veda? Do Vedas come in colors?
I would choose the colors of the bleeding heart...
Love... and the pure liquid truth of the sacrifice
Here and now in the heart of this holy season of the West
I call on the Supreme Absolute Truth to liberate us
from the clouds of desperate, despondent hellish selfish ego-iddity
-- unqualifiedly admitting I have traveled frequently the road
of my own supremely absolute extremist points of view --
liberate, that is, from the selfish egod-itty fixation that is truly stu-pi-diddy
Hari, oh hari, oh, hari om harim om:
I bless all things that live
from the beginning of creation,
all that exists breathes swims sinks in the w/hole of oblivion
I beat the drum, slowly, of loving desiring... cleansing truth...
Oh, open me to your healing
of the sacrifice of all I give up
... I give up, really,
when it comes down to it
cleanse us all, chanting (and changing) the terms of the Vedas
during the sacrifices,
for which, it appears, I am far from ready
From the beginning of creation,
these three words 'om tat sat,' used to indicate
Supreme Absolute Truth
three symbolic representations used in the Brahmanas
while chanting the hymns of the Vedas
and during sacrifices
for the satisfaction of the Supreme,
and not my own.
* The lengthy commentaries on the Vedas, composed in Sanskrit c. 900–700 BC and containing expository material relating to Vedic sacrificial ritual.
** The most ancient Hindu scriptures, written in early Sanskrit and containing hymns, philosophy, and guidance on ritual for the priests of Vedic religion. Believed to have been directly revealed to seers among the early Aryans in India, and preserved by oral tradition, the four chief collections are the Rig Veda, Sama Veda, Yajur Veda, and Atharva Veda.
(Jahnavi Harrison's recording of "May All Be Blessed: Hari Om" can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xy9pBY2lJA)
Such wind-borne chaff I write today,
the gate blowing listlessly in the wind
Ah, love! -- ah, spring --
Once more you rouse me from this calm
passage, a sail boat drifting on the open sea
to the final port
on the gray misty ocean where
the fantasy heroes await us with sad smiles
Ah, spring! -- ah, time
Always we think we are riding you, fine beast
of animal flesh between our thighs
But you are riding us
to that final stable
where we lay in the bed of old straw,
on our side, breathing to the gait of the final beats --
Oh, song of my heart...
a petitioner for some heavenly hail-ride service,
I wave and stand on tiptoes
at the end of the avenue
while the parade goes by
*Title borrowed from a song by Brian Cain; heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSVyWIzoHPA
The Melancholy Calls of the Night
I should not listen by day
to the evening's melancholy music,
or I will not write my daylight songs,
fresh news of the cardinal wailing his springtime summons
from a stout branch directly above my head,
exercising his droit de seigneur over my modest holding
and declaring his red-feathered need for love
-- less in oblivion to my presence
than in full code-red possession of his need
Strange to think of the songs I sang long ago
and can no longer remember. They too will become so
much wind-blown dream fuzz,
having also served their uses
as stuffing under the door
to keep the March wind at bay
2.
My cousins were always breaking their arms,
jumping from daring heights,
or mixing it up with upscale village thugs
I was more cautions, more lucky, less breakable, more solitary,
better served by a modestly privileged subdivision
mobbed by fugitives from prewar economic and family trauma
The wounds of our parents did not show on our bodies.
Scraped knees a small price to pay for all that freedom
Once I stepped blithely upon an upturned nail in my sneakers,
impaling an arch
(as Count Dracula, legend holds, disposed of his 'Turkish' captives)
and, reporting this wound to my wounded mother,
was advised, cautiously,
"Wash it, maybe."
Given such examples of childhood wounds,
I washed in private; soaped in silence.
Tell me about your mother, I should have asked
years -- decades -- before such tenders became useless,
stuff of no value, like all lost memories
and the worthless currency printed by long-suppressed rebellions.
"What do you remember about your father?"
I asked, posing my own middle-aged riddle to my
already fading mother.
"Nothing'... Simple truth, and testimony of childhood losses
Fortunate son of surviving parents,
unbroken limbs, and the middling sort of comforts,
candy after church and toys at Christmas,
I should have grasped them to my body,
held them close and listened,
till their hearts gave up their secrets.
May All Be Blessed (With Some Exceptions)
"May All Be Blessed," she sings.
Hari Om Tat Sat, meaning (I discover)
"Supreme Absolute Truth" --
From the beginning of Creation, I am told,
these words were used.
Where would we be without supreme absolute truth?
Chanting these hymns of the Vedas during the sacrifices
I offer a few nominations for the sacrifices --
and for the satisfaction of the suffering inflicted
on those too numerous to account
-- I would receive supreme satisfaction from having the Supreme Commander
have a pole stuck up his ass --
Hands in the air for calming of passions!
'Go peacefully amid the noise and haste'
Om Tat Sat
Peace and love
... and yet this burning inside
this yearning for the Supreme Absolute Truth
these three symbolic representations -- ideas, words, memes,
idioms, images, prayer songs used in the Brahmanas* --
and where are the Brahmanas when we need them? --.
while chanting the hymns of the Vedas**
Would that be Dark Veda? Do Vedas come in colors?
I would choose the colors of the bleeding heart...
Love... and the pure liquid truth of the sacrifice
Here and now in the heart of this holy season of the West
I call on the Supreme Absolute Truth to liberate us
from the clouds of desperate, despondent hellish selfish ego-iddity
-- unqualifiedly admitting I have traveled frequently the road
of my own supremely absolute extremist points of view --
liberate, that is, from the selfish egod-itty fixation that is truly stu-pi-diddy
Hari, oh hari, oh, hari om harim om:
I bless all things that live
from the beginning of creation,
all that exists breathes swims sinks in the w/hole of oblivion
I beat the drum, slowly, of loving desiring... cleansing truth...
Oh, open me to your healing
of the sacrifice of all I give up
... I give up, really,
when it comes down to it
cleanse us all, chanting (and changing) the terms of the Vedas
during the sacrifices,
for which, it appears, I am far from ready
From the beginning of creation,
these three words 'om tat sat,' used to indicate
Supreme Absolute Truth
three symbolic representations used in the Brahmanas
while chanting the hymns of the Vedas
and during sacrifices
for the satisfaction of the Supreme,
and not my own.
* The lengthy commentaries on the Vedas, composed in Sanskrit c. 900–700 BC and containing expository material relating to Vedic sacrificial ritual.
** The most ancient Hindu scriptures, written in early Sanskrit and containing hymns, philosophy, and guidance on ritual for the priests of Vedic religion. Believed to have been directly revealed to seers among the early Aryans in India, and preserved by oral tradition, the four chief collections are the Rig Veda, Sama Veda, Yajur Veda, and Atharva Veda.
(Jahnavi Harrison's recording of "May All Be Blessed: Hari Om" can be heard at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Xy9pBY2lJA)
© 2019 Robert Knox
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