There is a festival of lights over the filthy bog
but I turn my eyes away.
Flies hover over a festering sore;
I shoo them aside and
inexplicably
they do not return.
And then I know
what it is
that I must know:
Is the foam of the sea thicker at night?
Do the sizzling bubbles last longer
marooned there on the sand
when the moon is full?
Someone tell me.
Don’t google it, for heaven’s sake!
For the love of God,
don’t swim the high tide
with your graduation gowns on!
Just tell me. Now.
I am standing naked on the bridge tonight
looking out over a river of purple ink
with my back to the sea.
But I hear her dull thud,
I hear her suck and her lisp,
how she drowns the moaning thunder
in her forgotten heart.
And I must know.
If not, I will have no
choice but to
jump…
… or to wait
for this fever to ebb.
And if on leaving, the fever makes
the same seething sound as the sea
when she recedes,
then I will know.
I will not have to jump.
Tell me.
I must know. Now.
© Lorenzo — Alchemist's Pillow
Do you know?
Oh, Lorenzo you do articulate the desperate need to understand so beautifully. I often stand on that same bridge trying to persuade myself to trust the mystery ...
ReplyDeleteSo, no I do not know and for today I am okay with that. Tomorrow ... the need may return and I am okay with that too. (But if you find out will you please tell me?! :-)
Nice to have you back, btw!
Well I go through the same, and I do ponder about these things often.
ReplyDelete"Unfortunately there's no answer,
only silence greets,
I realize I must try to find my own street."
Wonderful lines! hope to see more of you.. :)
I dare not guess, Lorenzo, the answer to your questions has such an urgency I would not want to get it wrong. Nor dare I Google it, though I need not tell you. But then what if...
ReplyDeleteI did Google your question, Lorenzos: Is the foam of the sea thicker at night?
Do the sizzling bubbles last longer
marooned there on the sand
when the moon is full?
What came up was YOU, in the form of your blog, so the question goes on and on and on.
Thanks for this challenge, cast in such beautiful words.
hello lorenzo - rich questioning words that offer mystery and perhaps no resolution. i think that some mysteries are there as entry points to allow for thoughtful reflection. have a peaceful day. steven
ReplyDeleteIn this poem, you nailed the tension one feels between knowing through experience and touch -- all the physical senses, and longing to know what cannot be known. Even if I knew the answer, which I don't, I might not tell you, because what would happen to longing, that mysterious, delicious stream that runs through our life, if we knew it all?
ReplyDeleteShould have said, meant to say, so good to see you back on your Pillow.
ReplyDeleteI like. Welcome back.
ReplyDeleteAnd if not Google, can we Bing?
(I hate that word... "Bing")
(Then again, I hate "Google" as well)
Ah, the delicious and delicate mysteries of life. My favorite bit is...
ReplyDelete"Don’t google it, for heaven’s sake!
For the love of God,
don’t swim the high tide
with your graduation gowns on!
Just tell me. Now."
Welcome back to the world of blog.
great to see you lorenzo...top notch verse...do i know the answer, no...but i probably would have been in the water already...which is not necessarily a good thing...
ReplyDeletemmmm, great one, beautiful... questions. thanks.
ReplyDeleteFirst, Lorenzo, rest assured that the timing of my comments is not related to the wonderful comments that you just made on my blog. I read your poem early this morning, but did not want to comment until I had the chance to return and read it again, perhaps give it some thought.
ReplyDeleteI have stood naked on that same bridge many times throughout my life, and it's always the same dilemma — I want answers to my questions, new answers, not the threadbare answers of the past that now seem trite and contrived. As Job learned, however, we are never going to be given the answers we seek.
There is an answer, of course, and it's name is mystery — big, bad, terrifyingly beautiful mystery. As Gertrude Stein once said, "there ain't no answer, there ain't gonna be an answer, there never has been an answer. That's the answer."
To this, I would only add that I agree with Rilke that the challenge is to live the questions, not necessarily answer them. It is in the dance of uncertainty, preferably a dance without judgment about what is good and bad, that we find the unspeakable joy of being alive.
Be at peace, my friend, and continue to produce beautiful, provocative, and meaningful poetry, as you have with this poem.
it's good to read you back Lorenzo! i loved the lines, "For the love of God,don’t swim the high tide with your graduation gowns on!"
ReplyDeletei agree. some mysteries of life are meant for exploring through your own means, and others are meant for exploration with others in debates or other forms of communication. but whichever path we choose, the journey should be ours to wander through.
warm smiles,
Thanks, Bonnie, it’s nice to be back. I haven’t been writing, or commenting much, but have more or less kept up on my blog reading, including your beautiful Original Art Studio, where I enjoy your explorations and your “trust the mystery” philosophy as you practice it there. A nice guiding principle – ‘trust the mystery’.
ReplyDeleteHi, Tanvi, and welcome to the blog. Nice verse you quote. Is it yours?
ReplyDeleteAh, Elisabeth, you are clever and ‘disobedient’ — a fine combination. The actual question was the least of it, really. I guess it is all a matter of the passion with which we seek answers, knowing that there are none, that, as you say, the “questions go on and on and on” …
ReplyDeleteHi, Steven, yes, mystery is the operative term, and they are only resolved by other mysteries and questions. Peace to you, my friend.
ReplyDeleteHi, Ruth: yes, we are swimming in the same delicious stream. The question was not meant to be answered, only to be asked, with desperate urgency, in the grip of a fever that recedes like the sea and then surges back in … again and again.
ReplyDeleteGo ahead and bing away, if you like, Jeff, but take a dip in the sea, too, without the graduation gown. Thanks for the welcome back. I have only been away from writing on the blog and comments. Still keep up with my reading on your blog and elsewhere.
ReplyDeleteHello there, willow, I know this is a beautiful time of year for you at the manor as the summer heat recedes and your favorite season sets in. Enjoy!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Brian, if you are in the water already it is because you do know the answer or, more importantly and accurately, that there is no answer. I wouldn’t have looked for you anywhere else except in these waters.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Valeriana, beautiful of you to stop in from Ravenwood Forest., where I have really been enjoying your series on meanders and spirals, pebbles and stones.
ReplyDeleteHi, George. I think you capture the spirit of this poem beautifully and enrich it with you own take and the Gertrude Stein and Rilke quotes. The love of mystery, the comfort with uncertainty, the knowing there are no final answers are all fundamental strands of the woof and warp of your stimulating blog, Transit Notes. In fact, before posting the poem I discussed it and received some helpful feedback and input by email from a mutual blog friend of ours. Your name and blog came up in that conversation, in which we both regard you as a kindred spirit. All questions and mysteries, by their very nature, demand we explore and live them and yes, seek answers, but this must be done, I feel, in the spirit of knowing that the answer to our questions is another set of questions, that mysteries are only resolved in other, deeper more enthralling mysteries. For me this is the essence of the kind of poetry that moves me and even of what is called the scientific spirit and scientific method. The drive not to dispel mysteries, but to live and them and pull further mysteries from their womb. The search for final absolute answers and resolutions of mystery only leads to those “threadbare answers” you mention, to poor science, poor religion, poor poetry; to a world flattened and drained of her wonder.
ReplyDeleteWell, I do not want to blather on overlong on this, but believe me that I know from your enriching blog and always thoughtful commenting and answers to comments that you, too, have stood on that bridge.
Thanks, Jessie, for your kind comment. I like your take on this, that some mysteries are to be explored directly by us by diving in (without the graduation gowns) and others, perhaps, in the company of others, in debates and discussions with others.
ReplyDeleteOf course, the bubbles want to imitate the moon, don't you know?
ReplyDeleteThanks, Nathalie (spacedlaw)! But of course! A poetic answer, and one discovered without a graduation gown.
ReplyDeleteI'm taken by the urgency of this poem. You of course already know the answer, but you may not be ready for it. Oh to have the patience to wait for the fever to ebb, to be lucid enough to hear the answer.
ReplyDeleteWow--what a wonderful poem--just meant to be recited out loud--such rich sound here. Beautiful, Lorenzo, as always. Great to see a new post from you. I never go away from your blog without feeling in some way inspired.
ReplyDeleteHi, Lorenzo. It's so good to see you again. I hope your time away was wonderful. Thank you very much for the lovely shout out. It made my day when you told me.
ReplyDeleteWhen I read your latest poem, I was doubly glad that you are back. It is fantastic. Absolutely beautiful. Of course, I love stanza four. The graduation gown says it all. Knowledge is not necessarily wisdom. Actually, some academics I know think they have all the answers wrapped up in a neat little package.
I don't mean to put down all academics. It just depends on the individual. I'm just thinking of some academic poets I know personally. They have been caught up in that quest for tenure, so they say and act in ways they think will earn brownie points for their careers. That refusal to question is, in my opinion, a stagnation of wisdom.
Of course, anyone can fall into that trap. Your poem sums it up beautifully. I love that the narrator is standing naked on the bridge. We have to strip away the layers and swim naked in the bubbles. Excellent work, Lorenzo!
Hi, dutchbaby: yes, the poem has the urgency of an obsession, one that will probably settle for no answer until the fever ebbs. I loved your recent Oslo post.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sue. Beautiful to see you here, as always. I am glad you recite the poems out loud. I do that will of them as I write them and with many of the ones I read. Sometimes the poem on the page seems like sheet music, just crying out to be played and sung.
ReplyDeleteHey, Julie, no need to thank me for featuring your stunning poem “Abundance of Oxygen” on my Caught our eye… sidebar. It was self-defense, pure and simple. I had to share it with everyone or it would burst inside me. I agree, book learning and academics are fine and necessary, but all of us, academics and non-academics, must also know how to brush aside that “veil of reason” and plunge into life with all our senses, fears and desires, without the academic robes and graduation gowns.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to the sensibilities this poem addresses.
ReplyDeleteThat said, the first line (as I read it) was: "There is a festival of lights over the filthy BLOG."
I thought, to which blog is Lorenzo referring?? Then, with a double take, I realized "bog." Oh. Makes more sense that way.
Happy to see the lights on @ your blog again.
Lorenzo,
ReplyDeleteI am quite content to live in the mystery. And exceedingly so of late, when I wake each and every day so so thrilled to be alive in it.
There's that you know. A peace that I am so grateful for.
Blessings to you and hope to "see" you here again.
Ahhh, you have been missed. That is what I can say for sure. This was haunting.
ReplyDeleteCatching up since coming back and how privileged I am to read such a wonderful poem, Lorenzo! Thanks so much for blogging this.
ReplyDeleteLorenzo:
ReplyDeleteThe poet in you yearns for the waves to speak your heart, and in its whispers may it grant your wish to perceive the eternity in the sea.
Joanny
Glad you are back posting-- but also hoped your vacation was filled with wonderment and love with your family.