Pure Between-Ness Reaching Through, Expostulations, Tones, Bones Upon A Life Of Poems Poem by Warren Falcon

for Gerard Manley Hopkins & Nathaniel Mackey

"Listening to music, then, we are not first in one tone, then in the next, and so forth. We are, rather, always between the tones, on the way from tone to tone; our hearing does not remain with the tone, it reaches through it and beyond it....pure between-ness, pure passing over." - Wilson Harris, from The Angel At The Gate

Riff on the above: "Listening to music, then, we are not first in one bone, then in the next, and so forth. We are, rather, always between the bones, on the way from bone to bone; our hearing does not remain with the bone, it reaches through it and beyond it....pure between-ness, pure passing over."

"Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be."1- Gerard Manley Hopkins


1
Dear Incomprehension,

in a marble park behind Astor Place
reading a lifetime of poetry some
good odd to read hits mostly misses
but on benches nearby now can think
of "nother bether" other than lying naked
skin to skin brown or other darker the
more beside me

now long in tooth just gazing gazing
at miracle mounds-fresh muscle
smooth shy grin desire's child come
to wildness with and within me

other than bliss of bed and barter,
breath and rhythm, reading of,
working on, a poem, the rare reading
all these in bulk - mine was and is
yet not a life well lived but most
certainly paid great attention to too
painted, sketched, searched, reached,
stretched, dropped, slung headlong
downstairs out windows into Polaris
center splinter off chasing one Bear
or Her other, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor

no matter urges
mind and matter

pickin' up paw paws put em in a pocket
live long sing song all give the long day
its docket, and say, praying still to

G DASH D 2

Here's breath for you


2
But cold now.
Bone frozen to marble.
Going home to thaw
the morrow

got some
pork neck bones the
marrow smoked they
cry out for beans
dried white

I remain forever
postulant. And flatulant,
am gravy cold in the pan
down to a man

stand/stake my
claim continuously take
in air from nowhere out
into eternity's

oui oui oui
all the way tomb


catacomb futures
forever invested
in pork

hot fat on
the maw

lean the snout

smoked withers
desolation in the pot


3

[Hopkins riff & rip]


Not, I'll not, tarrying cornbread
d'espere, not not feast on thee;
Not insist - cracked they may be -
these last grains of corn In me ór
grock, most hungry, cry I can
upon them feast the more. I can

run butter on the ghee

suck neck bones how

many per shout "sprach! "

root rut wring word

wild cling surds torn

from scruff-curdle

from shrub-sedge

to pit pond sound

scrim scrum loudly

larded cold hard

and so plea

Lord! Lord!

scrape it over!

pitch me dark

upon the ptich

where I can no

more pitiably carol,

empty what's left

out of marrow,

may dedicate my

all to the Harrower,

to Life Lender,

THat Tvam Asi (3)

I'll glad marry me

ever the sorrier

bride sore the

more tone tune

carry more in

the spoon the

fork than voice


Still, rejoice! rejoice!

the other choice's

the worser discourse

which, discursive,

means "to prance about"


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Footnotes

1Carrion Comfort - by Gerard Manley Hopkins (the full poem upon which I have riffed in section 3 of my poem)

Not, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
Not untwist — slack they may be — these last strands of man
In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?

Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems)I kissed the rod,
Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!)my God.


Source: Gerard Manley Hopkins: Poems and Prose (Penguin Classics,1985)


2 G DASH D - In Judaism, writing/saying "G-d" is a way of avoiding writing a name of God, to avoid the risk of the sin of erasing or defacing the Holy Name.


3 Tatt vam asi [I have played with the "Tat" by adding an 'h' thus turning it to "That"], (Sanskrit: "thou art that")in Hinduism, the famous expression of the relationship between the individual and the Absolute:

"Tat tvam asi. That is You. You are that.

You are the one you came in search for. You are the one you are seeking. The one who can help you in troubles. The one who punishes you.

Your body is nothing but food, food is nothing but nature, nature is nothing but earth, earth is nothing but universe. Tat Tvam Asi.

Tat Tvam Asi establishes Advaita, non-duality.

If you understand this, you realize you are the God you talk about. Your duty includes helping others. And you also receive help from others. Because, by that you are only helping yourself. Because they are no different from you."

- excerpted fromquora.com/What-is-the-meaning-of-Tat-Tvam-Asi-That-art-thou