Saturday, June 9, 2007

THE PRACTICAL USES OF POETRY

Not to be practical, not

to mean, be, do,

no more than the wind

to insist upon itself, to

move like the wind,

like a disembodied intelligence

over the mindfields

practising the twin disciplines

of light and rain,

scattering the mystic pollen

of intuitive seeds

that bloom like roseate fire

in the shadowless gardens of the abyss

arranging the cosmos like a wild bouquet

in the blood vase of the human heart.

To remind us

we’re not fireflies or stars

stuck on a chromosome

of intellectual flypaper,

a buzzing that will stop,

but a passion of native iron

in the arms of alien oxygen,

urged into creative consummation

by carbon.

Free as water, free as God

the night she put the universe on

like make-up

to attend to the beginning of everything

with a cosmic effloresence of fireworks,

to speak for the stones, the stars, the trees,

to say them into being,

to say us, to whisper us

into the enormity of her solitude,

the inconceivability of her darkness,

a secret she couldn’t keep anymore.

Experience is a child playing,

not function, not a job, not a career.

What’s practical about singing alone

because the mysterious nightbird

has come like a blossom of joy

to the bough of the tree in winter?

Or must dancing have a use,

music be enchained to the stone ear of utility?

Bleeding isn’t very practical either

but how would you ever know

you were a rose scarred by your own thorns

if you didn’t?

Sooner renounce the sweetness

of the star-flavoured summer night air

or teach the wind a compass and a map,

the sky to consult a control tower

than try to grind the stars of poetry

with a stone and an ox

into a function and a fee.

The wages of poetry are always a gift

that takes the recipient by surprise

with the beauty of its subtlety

and a coin as true as the moon.

Who asks to be paid

to dance alone with God?

And even the abyss

has provided you with a world

like a passport to anywhere you want to go.

Among the birds and the leaves

flowing along with this pilgrimage of stars

to shrines that are older than knowing,

if the sun or the moon

should open your voice like a flower

in the deep woods

to hear you singing in the light,

and you are urged into poetry

through a gate as open as the cosmos,

and you discover colours have echoes

and the notes of your song

are a palatte of gardens,

and everything you paint with your picture-music

is the portrait of someone you’re becoming

until you look like everyone

from the inside out,

every passion

the longing of a planet

to burn with life,

and the deepest watershed of your humanity

is itself

the fountain

where the goddess drinks from her own reflection,

and you understand

that the word in the morning

is the word at the end of the day,

and that the life that adorns your body within

is the wine of the worlds

in a cup of clay

encrusted with stars

and you are the delirium the dream seeks,

the lightning and lucidity of the dark sage

your roots consult like a storm,

would you then look upon the first crescent of the moon

and try to fix it to a plough,

would you look forever

into the wells of now

like the eyes of a lover

who combs out the tresses of the willow like the wind

as if he played the whole of the night

on the blue guitar of your heart,

would you renounce the music as impractical?

To walk through this world aware,

with a spear of moonlight through your heart

like a poet, to feel

everything a human can feel

and have the courage and the art

to sing

the joys and sorrows,

the gardens and intimate hells alike

with compassion and understanding,

even when you often don’t understand

because the shadow of the world

eclipses your eyes,

or the windows are saturated with pain,

to be able to do that, to be that

is beyond assessing

because there is no intention to life

or the running of the river

or the unspooling of a poem

that conceives of its seeing as progress.

What the eye writes

on these pages of percipient sky

that reflect the world to a focus as us

is not a reality in advance

of the dream that shadows it.

PATRICK WHITE

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