Wednesday, September 13, 2006

sweet subliming ('sweet' pronounced "swate")

each day i fall
through the crack between the worlds--
into communes deep, and lofted
with dewy moss and lichens in pearls of water:
too pure of
scent for any breath
but
baby's
breath...

tumblimg out of the turbulent plumes
of waterfalls
of water falling
around me

i melt
and if
i melt into
some new beloved place

may i feel
the freedom of support
from ancestral loving presences
beyond the
interminable
bump and grinding
impulses
of the too-strong
pulse of living
in this sixty-something habit of

forever
dreaming of
sweet
subliming



~fini~

9 Comments:

At 5:54 PM, Anonymous Jess said...

Mmm-hmm, hot, wet, breathy, rhythmic... yeah, it's got a good beat alright, you could definitely dance to it...

 
At 3:36 PM, Blogger LJ said...

So much went through my mind so fast when I read this poem..

This part:
"Beyond the/interminable/bump and grinding/impulses/of the too-strong/pulse of living/in this sixty-something/ wishing for/sweet/subliming/forever"

A friend and I were speaking of death today. About a funeral he'd attended, where there'd been talk of another friend who committed suicide. Everyone wanted to know how this person could have done that to his family and my friend said, "He loved his family. He just didn't know what to do with the pain." And someone else spoke up, "Who hasn't thought about it?"
"Have you?" I asked my friend. And he had, once or twice.
"I have," I said. "But more now it's like I sometimes get impatient and weary and wonder if it isn't time to go yet."
Beyond the interminable bump and grinding, you know?
Yeah. Apparently you do know.
Thanks for saying how it feels, exactly.

 
At 12:04 AM, Blogger chuck said...

LJ-

Thanks for continuing to visit...
You got me thinking...

Maybe this blog about eros and thanatos simply reflected a 'momentary desperation'.

Of course, eros cannot exist without thanatos...

Who knows what my thrill is in diving into cold ocean surf, 'sans wet suit'; all I know is...I feel wonderfully renewed when I emerge-- ALIVE, LIVING, SENTIENT!

Something about facing some immense fear dissipates...and I am made whole.

Between living and dying exist a wide spectrum of life choices and life risks...to each individual, choices according to their 'taste':
"chaq'un a son gout".

Today I exchanged my ocean swim for a swim in the river (water is my bliss).

 
At 2:52 AM, Blogger chuck said...

LJ

I changed the poem from the one you commented on-- which isn't fair to your comment.

still, editing an old poem seemed more manageable than writing a blog about the writers' conference I attended over the weekend at the local college, College of the Redwoods, Del Norte...a good conference.

 
At 9:20 PM, Blogger zhoen said...

oh.

 
At 5:16 PM, Blogger LJ said...

Well, Chuck (she huffed) you took out my favorite lines nearly! Sheesh.

I still want to know about the writer's conference, so you see, you're still on the hook! And oh, can I nag!

 
At 11:10 PM, Blogger chuck said...

Yeah--I kinda eviscerated the poem...to make it more readable to a wider audience...and to, proverbially speaking, de-sensationalize the poesie...as sensation in a desensitized era can be perceived as crying out for attention and public censure; and therefore be viewed as subversive of the status quo and the attendant
abhorrence of any antinumbing impulses that may course through the body politic or more personal.

 
At 2:11 AM, Blogger chuck said...

ENOUGH OF THIS 'NAVEL GAZING'...I MUST PACK A VIRTUAL LUNCH AND VISIT SOME INTERESTING BLOGS I KNOW OF...OFF I GO...TA TA...

 
At 5:48 AM, Blogger Mary said...

Chuck. What a stunningly beautiful poem. Don't know what the earlier version was like, but I love this.

It's obvious I've been away from here too long.

*lofted with dewy moss and lichens in pearls of water*. Gorgeous.

 

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