19. Hear Singing to Voyaging Here

Sing on yet again, old man

Sing on your unending songs about the old fights

Sing about the fights we must make to win against old gods

Sing these fights against the gods & how they bring us to an old truth

***

The truth, Homeros, is what you must sing

The truth of force, always, Homeros, is what you must sing

Through you, Homeros, the truths of the force of the intellect can sing

And through you, Homeros, the truth & pain of force and intellect shall sing

***

The pain is the wound in the world where we stand

It thrusts open the wound within the place you are

Our natures thrust against the livid wound which is our ground

The wound is the mould out of which we are thrust by our natures here

***

Sing of those constraints that thrust us here

The children sing of each sweet constraint of being here

The children playing in the rubble sing within the constraints that come from here

At nightfall, Homeros, sing with the children in the rubble of our constraints so we can hear

***

Karla and Darrel, too, are here, voyagers

Karla & Darrel’s language is always that of further voyaging

Karla & Darrel’s language lies at the start of this great voyage

Karla & Darrel sing, this language given as lies to set us all on unending voyagings

10. A Sent (The Balancings)

Let’s use each word sweetly

Every instance that is acceptable we’d want to be so sweetly

The things that are acceptable we shall dedicate to female American language poets (in the broadest sense), who use that language sweetly

***

OK, then, let’s dedicate this venture to their writing, and the rain

The venture must dress to match the declining glory of the poets and the rain’s increasing rigour

Damson shall be the dress to match & mature into the declining glory of the poets and the rain’s increasing rigour

We can realise how the damson dress shall venture and joy within this turning silver & grey, unexceptional as the declining glory of the poets

***

Joy, in this case, we’ll find at the balancings

The rests in the midst of where we are, these are the balancings

Against what we have eaten, what we have thought – this rests within the balancings

We’ll hold our wits about us, no matter how it rests with what we have eaten, through the balancings

***

Ah, if only our wits were real

Our wits build up this whole world around us

Our wits build up this world, this one world, out of fear of all the others

Our wits build this fear into a world – it is empty – look! look!

***

So let’s be heroes we’d said once, empty but hopeful

Heroes are good at posturings and are ever hopeful

Our delight at the heroes’ posturings can make us ever hopeful too

A fine slice of damson pie, gives as much delight as the posturings of heroes and is more helpful too

The rich dark fruit juice of that pie – haemorrhagic but hopeful ever too

The language leaking out of this crust is haemorrhagic and staining yet hopeful too

What a mess! licking up the language leaking a process unending but ever hopeful to