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Sensory Exultation

by seanfarragher 

Posted: 23 March 2006
Word Count: 483
Summary: "The world only goes round by misunderstanding." - Charles Baudelaire
Related Works: Birthday Poem 1-8-2006 Revised THIRD TIME • “Facts Are Stubborn Things” -- Revised 3 • “The Garden of Earthly Delights -- 2005” • Black Immediacy, Dark Matter at Atomic Ground Zero • Books from the Bible • 

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Content Warning
This piece and/or subsequent comments may contain strong language.


Sensory Exultation
Sean Farragher

"The world only goes round by misunderstanding." - Charles Baudelaire


In our world without mass, light has dark formidable scales
made of rust, debris and the sacrifice of the end of space --
solar illumination tastes, smells somewhat dark there,
like burnt coffee beans roasted on a spit with human
eyes as condiments to the magical, invisible spirits
resting in the time zero puddles that populate rows
of thin narrow houses created for horror movies
where the blood, invisible, clings to emptiness
and you suffer sensory deprivation.

In that marginal vision what we know can be
more honest than what we pretend to believe.

We become the blank wall. And when we burst open
sulfur springs bubble noxious gas and your hands
wonder what if I were blind, deaf, without smell,
wild flowers arranged as vulvas would be invisible
Not even Georgia O’Keeffe could reason sight.


2. Carol, Nick and Sean

Once upon a time, Nick, a former Jazz great,
who made his living working the subway
stepped out into the dark one sunny day.

He said. “It was like black feathers covered my vision.”

Carol, my assistant, who loved poetry, cared for him.
She read to him Muhammad Speaks and dirty books.

He asked how she tasted. I told him she was a natural
didn’t drink, was a virgin until recently.

“You dog,” he replied. Then his body language
changed and he added "now, stop this bullshit
and, man, stop bragging, how does she TASTE.”

I asked Nick how he knew Carol and I were lovers.
He said I could smell the sex on you, and when she
let me put my elbow into her breasts while we walked
or kissed me with her tongue good night, and then
would crawl under the covers, and I could breathe,
feel where you had fucked her, I was amazed
how it all came back. I saw every woman I knew
and there were many, and Carol purred, and I felt
as if she was my daughter, and I could not touch
until she made it plain what she wanted and took it.

“Man, how you could give so much? “I heard you had
told her to take care of Nick. The old ladies here
were jealous when I couldn’t tend them –“

“I told her that you were an extraordinary
human being capable of sensory exultation.”

“When she came back to my bed and hugged
me I smelled and tasted you and loved it.”

3.
Carol became a Doctor married some man
and I am certain Nick will be a perfect sensual
moment, more intimacy that life usually allows.
I wish I had been a woman that day.

Nick and Carol smelled of the subliminal universe.
Of course, that is what I think now, looking back
thirty years ago when the air was easy on the lungs.




END
http://seanfarragher.com
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Comments by other Members



Paul Isthmus at 01:08 on 26 March 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean,

Overall, really got into this. Has a kind of genesis feeling about it... but with half an eye on the story to come. The two sections work well together, with tiny echoes that pull them both together under the title in surprising ways.

In our world without mass, light has dark formidable scales
made of rust, debris and the sacrifice of the end of space --
solar illumination tastes, smells somewhat dark there,
like burnt coffee beans roasted on a spit with human
eyes as condiments to the magical, invisible spirits
resting in the time zero puddles that populate rows
of thin narrow houses created for horror movies
where the blood, invisible, clings to emptiness
and you suffer sensory deprivation.


I like the cascading form and sense of this - it seems to originate in a chaotic bolus of everything... tries out coffee beans and mixes sensual ecstacy with revulsion (coffee beans spit human eyes condiments invisible spirits... phew)and then intriguingly finds form with horror houses and walls, and traps us in there.

I'm always pleased with the integrity I find in your poems, even though they seem at first chaotic. They reward close reading. The 'magical, invisible', 'blood, invisible' modulation says a lot. And even upon finding integrity, the chaos remains - ordering somewhere else perhaps.

In that marginal vision what we know can be
more honest than what we pretend to believe.


The vision of being 'trapped in the wall'? And its limited perspective at least affording, after deprivation, some kind of honesty, more so than that of the belief which forced that perspective in the first place? I think I get it..

We become the blank wall. And when we burst open
sulfur springs bubble noxious gas and your hands
wonder what if I were blind, deaf, without smell,
wild flowers arranged as vulvas would be invisible
Not even Georgia O’Keeffe could reason sight.


First two lines excellent. Line 4 I think you could look at again.. maybe one invisible too many? But it kind of works alongside the others all the same. The Georgia O'Keeffe reference threw me a bit, had to look her up and she looks like an amazing lady. Made more sense.. but still I wondered why you put her in... I checked out your homepage and noticed the marilyn and georgia conversation.. so she seems to be a preoccupation of yours.

It's late Sean, I apologise for the premature closure of my comment, but I must get some sleep. Will continue in the next few days.

Paul I

gard at 16:40 on 27 March 2006  Report this post
Sean



is it only a man who could say that he wished he had been a woman that day? Why is that? Is that what you infer,what every woman wants? Sorry to be so direct.

I like the convolutions of this piece but I need to re-read it. I am at work right now..will comment later

G



seanfarragher at 16:45 on 27 March 2006  Report this post
I never infer what a woman wants. It is what I wanted to be close to him. But two straight men cannot climb that boundary, and Carol was our bridge. Thanks for the read. I look for more when you get a chance.

gard at 23:39 on 27 March 2006  Report this post
Hi Sean

I see now. And ironic the sub title...sigh...

I read this almost as a prose really. I thought it could be a short piece of literature in the form of a prose though you formulated it into a poem. It works or would work well either way.

I agree with PI that the poem at first seems dark and chaotic, almost in formation, but that the second part has integrity and coherency.

They do work together.

Do you think that sometimes some people are so beautiful that it becomes confusing emotionally no matter what their sex or orientation?

What I like about this is the human components, the depth of your feeling in wanting to be close to someone of the same sex. The release of this feeling with the woman.

It is a sensitive piece

G








paul53 [for I am he] at 11:50 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
I wonder sometimes if we're not being overwhelmed, like finally seeing a long-awaited new film by a famous director.
the sacrifice of the end of space

the time zero puddles

“It was like black feathers covered my vision.”
Each of these, and more, could be mulled over and discussed at great lengths, yet they are there and then gone, strewn into the piece because there is more where that came from, and better things up ahead.

seanfarragher at 12:00 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
The first two you quote may need development in separate poems. They can be in both places: the original poem and and then trasported to a new point of view.

but "black feathers...." was actually spoken by Nick. I wrote it down then, because it seemed the pefect line, an accurate depiction of detached retina. I always remember it.

I wrote several poems after that experience. I have them somewhere in my files, as they were not copied into digital form when I started working on an apple 2e in 1983.

I appreciate your read and comments. You always provide a good eye and ear.

thank you

Sean

paul53 [for I am he] at 12:07 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
Sean,
What do you think of Robert Creeley? I didn't really come across him until he had died, but I keep meaning to read more of him.

seanfarragher at 12:29 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
He is an important poet with great influence. He is a voice anyone reading and writing poetry needs to know. He and Charles Olson headed up Black Mountain College, an experiement in education that no longer exists. My mentor, Joel Oppenheimer (1930-1988), studied with Paul Goodman, Ed Dorn and others there. Charles Olson had a tremendous influence on my work. Joel mostly taught me how to edit, and to take some of the ego out of my earlier work. Joel also taught me how to teach. From his example I learned how to hug and tell the truth at the same time.

paul53 [for I am he] at 13:15 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
Thanks, Sean, I'll add Olson and Oppenheimer to my already long list.
I learned how to hug and tell the truth at the same time.
There's another poem in that.

seanfarragher at 13:55 on 28 March 2006  Report this post
Actually, the line was, and my mind was not working. (morning here)....... Hug and kick in the ass at the same time. With me Joel needed to kick more than hug.

Olson wrote about his poetics. He was a natural progression from William Carlos Williams (who influenced Joel) to Olson.

Read Olson's <u>Maximus Poems</u> with a guide. There is one published, andd available in most libraries. Olson's allusions are concrete and very local but they catch you in a thought and you twist and turn in your mind and come out at the end of the read in a different frame of mind.

Beanie Baby at 18:29 on 29 March 2006  Report this post
This is almost like a mini saga. I like the way it explores so many depths. Your use of the five senses works well and your style is gritty and streetwise.

I can't see why a straight guy shouldn't someimes feel attracted to another straight guy. There must be the odd time when we all have similar feelings regardless of our gender or sexual preference.

I have read this twice and found it very powerful both times. I'm very impressed.
Beanie


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