May 11th, 1980, Serial No. 01813

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are part of that energy and you have a kind of mystique that it will happen. You don't get to have that out of Sardella because Sardella dies on the vine when confronted with where it would even begin, death. And he could have no sense of how his own entrance into the thing redeems this man. In other words, he can't, in this, when he says collective man outstrips the individual, that's collective man outstrips the individual. It's still not in any, Hegelian is when you've got a spirit, when collective man has a spirit. I mean, when on mass that's Whitman and so on is a spiritual entity and this is not what humanity looked like, misery it looks like to Brown. Who began the acknowledged greatnesses? I, your own archael service, put the poet's minds apart. That's what Brown is going to do, he's going to act, he's going to be a poet of mining, he's the great mind, close with the poet's self, and lo, a dim


yet too plain form divides itself from him. And that divides into two entities, one strength and one grace. This is just the orchestration through and through. This is a poem, not a poem coming to you, it's rightly, it would be atrocious, but it would be impossible also that it could be imagination, that it could be telling us what the experience of the poet's soul was, because you're not, it's just beginning. It's pictures of what the whole potentiality is, the thing that only, the thing you only know when you're 20 that you don't know when you're 60. I mean, I can't, my difficulty with Heavenly City, Earthly City, which is what, when I was 21, I was 27 or so, is that I can't remember, I mean, I cannot recall its clues, and I keep wanting to disown, and the hardest thing is to go back to what was the journal thing, acknowledge that it could imagine its whole situation. It couldn't do it yet, but it could imagine the whole situation. It was launching it. What you do


know is that you were one of the things launched, and then you can search it and launch from it endlessly. I mean, not be it, but that Sardello could be written as fully as it does to portray the inner quarrel of the, well, it had a great thing, because, for instance, it didn't have to qualify to be printed in Canyon Review or something. That was not where it was. Remember, Browning's daddy paid for his publication and went broke, and Browning, who had a pretty good reputation for the two previous poems, he certainly tested his readers by, a few stayed by him, but they weren't happy, and he got a lifelong reputation for being a man that you couldn't understand. Well, let's enclose. I want to give this passage that struck me about the alchemy of it. I'll complete it, this how-to-choose passage that I...


Nor, if one man bore brand upon temples while his fellow wore the oriole, would it task you to decide? But portion duly out, the future buys never with the unparcelled present. Smile, of course, bears so much on warrant, all so slight. My bitter and acrimonious break with Denise Levitoff took as it is occasioned. It's the only way to use it, I think, bitter and acrimonious breaks come from other sources, but it's occasion it took was exactly what's present here, that the poet does not get, the poet's got to go beneath what we want to choose between the brand on the temple and the oriole, the one that we see. But the poet's got to go beneath, and a perfect example of going beneath is that while we're watching Macbeth, who is certainly, you'd think we'd all be out with carrying banners in protest march, that isn't what we're doing in the poem. We're going deeper and deeper and deeper


into an identity with Macbeth, and this is what our, of course, Shakespeare in his own poetry, even doing Henry VIII, doesn't get to go deeper, deeper, deeper, so he finds certain prototypes that go deeper, but where I was making my break is that we can't, we can have moral attitudes toward a war, we can also have intellectual insults and so forth, but the poetry is to go deep into our imagination of its nature. This is again the ill, you do not, you're not out to cure the ill, you're out to deepen the experience of it and come into, in the poetry. The doctor's got one attitude, but you've got another attitude, and the poetry goes deep into finding out, and this is a gift it gives back that nothing else gives back. The philosophy gives you system and knowledge and various things, and it's answerable to a system of truth, and if interested in it, are there contradictions or not, but we would never know the richness of contradictions were it not that poetry


is expected by its audience to have rich contradictions. That's what they want from it. They run around and get some wise man to straighten it out. They need a wise man. Only a few lose. If they want wisdom in poetry, they end up like, you know, Don Blanding with The Lady and My Mother's Day. It's comforting to read, you're off for a while, and you do not need as much in the bank, and the depression is there. Okay, I'm going to now close with a passage of it. It's a rich impact. Richer than we could have ever gotten through, but in the beginning, I posed that it would be a little like Kantorovich who, in constitutional law, never got to the Magna Carta. Great joke! Do you think this time we'll get to the Magna Carta? He knew in legend that he never got to the Magna Carta in constitutional law. The little group of constitutional law students would all look bewildered and think, oh gosh, but we've got to answer that in our exams.


Well, this is along line 302. Give body and spirit the first right they claim, and pass your soul on a voluptuous shame that you, a pageant city's denizen, are neither vilely lodged amidst lombard men, can force joy out of sorrow, seem to truck bright attributes away for sordid muck, yet manage from that very muck-induced gold, then, subject nor scruple to your cruce, the world's discardings. Now, that pageant city is that arise for own, appear for own. I mean, how many books back, huh? Each book a thousand or so lines, that's a pageant city, and the pageant city is the one we're looking at as an audience. And this is a creature entirely that, a denizen entirely of that pageant city, but just already the muck appears, and what


interests me is, in a world, how immediate to the beginning of the 19th century was the use and reference of alchemy to stand for the transformation and finding things and things. The other great point for finding gold in that very muck, going to the muck, now the other, we have another sort of thing that Milton doesn't talk about is the spark which is hidden throughout, so you go into everything, and that is that there would be a process, that's the thing that goes on in chemistry and alchemy, that there'd be a process of transformation and a process of sublimation, but Browning uses the word sublimate and so forth, these are all alchemical terms, long before Freud uses them, and as a matter of fact, many people felt that we shouldn't sublimate, so there are reactions in various ways, but I'm thinking about, where this enters in here, how in Patterson, when it comes to uranium being found, and he of course has a terrific play in that, because what


we know is that the Curies did not want to know what they knew, they so much did not want to know that that radiation was radiation, that they didn't want to even hear what it would do to their bodies and their cells, and they poisoned their own children, this is like a magma deal, when somebody in depth writes that kind of poem, and he begins to grasp the appalling, so eager for the fact that we're making a discovery that would change the world, the Curie himself carried samples around to show how it glowed, they had all the data of what something like that was, and they were sickening on it and still had it around to poison the entire household. So it shows that we've got a very poor argument indeed to explain that, of radiation, if you're excited about the radiation. So there's a turn, a marvelous turn in this whole thing, and it would go back to, is it


so easy when I propose that I'll be of Milton's party? No, it also, just as we would now want Blake to add to Blake's double vision, the double flaw, we would want to add to Milton's spark that the truth we must know is the poisoning of the truth we must know. We will be poisoned by the truth we know and we'll still seek it. And this comes up in Zardello's mind in part. There is something, a passage in which he talks directly with himself, that he can't go back to the fancy, he can't go back to the state of being enthralled that he began with in Mantua, because once the idea of mankind has come to him, it isn't a moral thing that he can't desert, it has come to him. And he understands himself now as being there, so


he's withdrawing himself, he's losing himself if he goes back to the fancy. He doesn't lose the fancy, but the fancy entirely causes imagining mankind. So we see rightly, he isn't in some vain quarrel with himself, he's thinking about good and evil and mankind and so forth, he simply has come into it and can't be, so there's no return. Though real ingots pay your pains, the clods that yielded them are clay to all beside. Would clay remain, though quenched your purging fire? Who's robbed them? Had you wrenched an ampler treasure forth, as tith they crave? Now, of course, that clay happens to be the human clay. Let me read it again. It is shifted out of our hands, and the gold in the clay, the gold is almost bringing his poetry away, his insights away from mankind and so forth, his sight of the whole. And yet, something bright, okay. Give body and spirit the first


right they claim, and pass your soul on a voluptuous shame that you, a pageant city's denizen, are neither vilely lodged midst long-burnt men. Can force joy out of sorrow seem to truck bright attributes away in sordid muck? That's the golden good part, but now that sordid muck is its own human clay. Yet, manage from that very muck it is gold, then subject nor scruple to your crews the world's discardings. All the things they've thrown away themselves. Though real ingots pay your pains, the clods that yielded them are clay to all the sight. Would clay remain, though quenched, your burgeoning fire? Who's wrought them? Have you wrenched an ampler treasure forth, as tith they crave, a share that ruins you and will not save them? Why should sympathy command you quit the course that makes your joy, nor will remit their woe? Would all arrive at joy reverse the order time instructs you, nor coerce each


unit till some predetermined mode, that total be emancipated? Man's road is one, men's times have traveled many. T'wart no enterprising soul's precocious start before the general march, and the passage that ensues is one of, not including one at all, but one that departs that outreach. I want to close by reading of a recent passages in which you find that, I think you can hear how much being immersed in Sardello has brought in, come into my own work. I had in Naropa, which I guess is two years ago, the summer, where they were having their protest against plutonium, and I was asked how they were protesting against


metal. It really was absurd. To build a whole protest against plutonium itself, in great influence of plutonium, or this thing, and especially I felt it intensely because I read actual life, not as a dream, dream and actual life. Everything seems to me to be informing and meaningful throughout, and with so many correspondences that I don't think that we dream the message of actual life or live the message of dream. There's now so many realms of being in which things appear, but we certainly can read from one to the other, and in the case of the plutonium, it hardly seemed to be the center or the question from which it was moving, since to protest before forces that mean throughout to bring to an end the species. Well, you can hear them. I mean, at the present time, they nuke everything.


They do not understand what all of us read in the paper, because the paper is their media, not ours. There, I mean, I'm talking about the powers that move, that have nuclear. The workers of the nuclear plant may not want to know that they're going to have melanoma. They may be alarmed when they find out they've got a higher incidence of melanoma, yet they do want to know about it, because they, like us, only imagine plutonium ore, and so forth, to be deadly. It's only imagination. They can't invent a satisfactory economic power source with it. That will have nuclear plants. It just costs too much. And yet, they could invent a bomb overnight. I mean, every creative energy could stream forward, because that was the real imagination of that world. It was Einstein's imagination of that world. It was the only dream they had. And the rest was barely invented. It was kind of, think


what we could do with the atom. That was hardly a dream. That was a charged dream. So the deadliness of, I mean, to get up and protest as if you were, call attention to the deadliness of the patently deadly, it's in its innocent areas you should look and point out. Because this is the one where they sign out front, but behind that I'd leave the plutonium alone and start looking at some of the places where it protests that it comes out to be good. So, I had a, at Naropa, I had started, I was also struck by, again, the other aspect, because there was a good deal, and certainly it was in the group at Naropa, not only in their going forward altogether to represent a point of view in protesting, but there was a strong enclave of the Naropa Buddhist work where there was a party, a party consciousness being.


So that the individual insight or the individual testimony was beginning to be found, was beginning to be a source of guilt. And so I started a poem and got just the first, the one ground of learning a life to live, the word itself has no other foundation. Yeah, these are the lines that I got there at Naropa, and then I go on with the poem. The first, the one ground of learning a life to live. The word itself has no other foundation. The lie eats at the live fruit, the eye that avoids seeing sickens. Speech has only its one heart to come from, in each living the one tongue. Yet in the imagination potential of the world, so that there is no ancient wisdom except in each the ancient, from the


initial thrust of the elements in evolution, living in their momentous moment. That is ah-ha, I'm catching myself up. No, the passage that I want is, comes up in this one. Comes up in this one. It's worth, later, oh yeah, it doesn't begin, this isn't the beginning, this is the one from 1978, from July 1978, and this is the passage, so it waited for the passages it belongs to. The people of this nation throughout time are not one but a multitude, each from his own, heart, mind, coming forward, masked. So you cannot strike down our leader, for no one leads us. You will be exhausted before we are to strike down the multitude of volitions we come from. War, you have set as a first priority, the most profitable in a system


of wasting the world. And that is where I left at that point. Because it was a picture not of a unified protest but of the unlocatable multitude of protests that come from inner realities and consequently you cannot get to, and can still march together. One thing that struck me about our marching in San Francisco was how much it was marching together in the street. I mean, how much it was coming from everywhere, marching together, not as one mass or one thing. And yet, in the minds of the leaders and so forth, constantly one mass, one thing, and then the ones who most wanted to form a party out of it declared by the second or third year they were more alarmed than Nixon was that we wouldn't march any longer. I mean, strange message, though. We had one meeting at the Longcharmin Union where Allen was running around telling us that there were people of, should we read certain poems because there are people that the real message was we must form ourselves and be members of certain parties and so forth. And at marching with middle class, I said,


I am the last of the bourgeois poets in the world. I'll march alone. Then what I'd like to close in reading is, to Michael Palmer, I said, well, I'm getting pretty preachy and so I think maybe a preacher is coming into it. I think you can see out of Sardella where I've gotten at. And I sort of grinned and I said, yeah, maybe, Michael, the whole thing is the preacher is about to come forward in the passages. And so as I got on the bus and the plane, what I had written at the beginning of the passages were the first opening lines which are out of Stimmung of Stockhausen. And as I got on the bus to go to the plane and then on the plane, the poem got finished. The preacher appeared. Stimmung, the outpourings of personal love, the magic names, the true intonation. And after


these have become false, they must constantly be found again. And after these have become lost, the truth of the sound there is must be constantly found out. Transformations, various deviations, pulsations, assimilations. Is it also composed? So the preacher arises again, just when exalted we would call upon the dignities. And luminous, self-evident, transcendent, these governing takers stand. He takes over the voice, raising the tone, the authority. Aborts just temperament, the canticle of sublime regence yields to his cant, and from the beginning of time. I have brought down from the mountain this mighty presumption I put on, the mask of righteousness, the lawgiver, the fire of wrath, this megaphone. In me the stony Zoroaster speaks again. The master architect has arranged horizons in a renewing design. At the end of the avenue


of golden trees, no, the area was black. The illusion of a vanishing point contradicts the judgment of the eye. And what was far is suddenly near. In every phrase changed the face of color. The bright arrays of tulips, ranunculi, rare hyacinthus, the very depth bloomed balloy, not the flowers you know by that name, but the spreading power of the lavender and gold, answering tears raw. A circle of alabaster columns, stairs ascend, the garden implodes open. Here I have released the bound of my allotted space. Here I shape the opening of the mind, as if at the limits of art there were a breathless allowance, this rest before vertigo, an address to the timeless. Excoriating the exploitation of the earth of the deceit of fallacial designs, the master of the reality principle, harangues the passersby. Turn from your pleasures, you enthralled by


the turning of the lyre's music. Shake from your nerves and the leaping thrill of this poet's dream. The outpouring of personal luck, the golden vanity sails in this song. All night long the magic names, daimones, entering and leaving bodies. The genius of the five-fingered hand, moving the arm. The enraptured hyacinth in the death cave, him the god-love. But I am the mouth of the wretched, howling. I am loudspeaker of the injured. I have taken offense unto dying, as the thriving in the system of vigorous mediocrity, I ran against the rulers. I come from the ranks of jealous men. The knife of injustice has been driven home in me. Nothing is lovely in the end of this time. All the time, the nine actors stand motionless, staring into the mind-space-time project, the depth our perspectives seek out. Very like the aura of this falling in love. Stimmung. Aussi passage pour l'air encore.


Voir ce sourire fin et voluptueux. Où la gratuité romance en externe. Verliebte Tage. Love Bitten, the English translation has it. April 1967, by San Francisco, und am Meerhofer. April 1980. Der viel deutlich ist. Die reine Stimmung. In Göttingswort steckt Stimmung. Oberstöhne zum Grundformen. The preaching in earnest, in over-earnest. The love played into a vowel. Janus accusis. Speech. Stockhausen. Von Atmosphäre, von Fluidum, von Seelischer. Is dimmheit. Drawn. In impermanent line. So, that's a little bit of grammar. We've got a couple of characters now. We've got


architects in every form. We've got preachers. Thank you for attending me. Am I not ever getting all the way to the poem? What's next now? What's next now? Oh, for me? Oh, I've got long overdue. Four New Directions announced a book of essays last year because they actually had their hands in manuscripts, and then I took back the essay I wanted to rewrite, and it never got in the back of their hands. I might have a few of these left at the present time. Is there a new college next fall? Yes, in the fall, a new college. Diane Dupremont and Nelson and I are designing the program Poetics. And the fascinating thing about it is, at least potentially I'll explain it to you at the end, but it's essentially Poetics, paradox, or poetry itself, just as we've been staring at it for quite a while.


There's a man called Mark Dunn, a long, long, long time ago. He wrote a book that no one has heard of yet. It's called Poetry, and it's just a piece of his book. And it's based on his experience in Europe for a period of time. And it's a book that doesn't expand much.


However, we know how many of you have read it, and I was very concerned that it was going to be too long. There's not a lot of text in that, so I asked the person who wrote it, what part of it, or a part of it, is it that it's just a piece of his book? It's not a great, you know, kind of joke, because it's not a great book, and I don't like the book, and I don't think I've ever heard of it, so I didn't want to know about it. However, that's what it is, and it was rather frightening to me. I've heard of it, but I've never heard of it. And it's just as it is, it's too long, so it's a rat race, and it's not a rat race. It's not a rat race. There's a lot more to it than that, but it's just a piece of his book. Question inaudible


And maybe, I don't realize they have three lectures in the community, and less than three lectures. Well, it's the fall, the winter, and the spring. What I do is, no, no, it's a graduate course for a master's degree in history. But what I do is one of my own part-time, this will obviously occupy me. A master's degree in history. If I get a chance to return again, I will. I'm always going away to colleges and saying, thank you, my dear, and it's something that is best and free, and it's never in this community. Question inaudible


I listen to what you're saying. Question inaudible And thank you. Question inaudible The next week.