Literary Complexity and its Antithesis, Ambiguity

This relatively short essay is part of an on-going series of musings concerning language in the service of clearer and more insightful modes of thought. The interested reader who is, as yet, unfamiliar with my poetry and my program to restructure English, might want to read the following, to put this essay in context. I would suggest beginning with:

Why I Rite So Funnee [Feb 13, 2010 on this blog].
This essay is also on my website, which contains a number of book-length poems, plus some of my art and manuscripts.
Then I would search this blog for the following posts:
     A docent’s tour of my poetry, Part 1. [July 10, 2006]
     Part 2 of a docent's tour of my poetry. [July 10, 2006]
     The definitive function of true art. [August 29, 2006]
     Musings on a Non-linear Narrative Poetics. [July 20, 2006]
     RE: the poem: Guerden ov Addomz (see 10/26/06) [November 10, 2006]

So...

There are many ways to be accurate in thinking and writing. A marvelous statement on “traditional” understandings about literary accuracy can be found in Richard Moore’s essay, “Seven Types of Accuracy” in his book The Rule that Liberates. However, we have made enormous gains in science that are not reflected in our arts, and especially in poetry. Our language and our use of language have not kept pace with our ability to See. We still measure the accuracy of language by our ability to say one thing clearly, unambiguously.

Sadly for the traditionalists, we have passed beyond a world of one dimension. We realize (or must realize) now, that we live in a highly superimposed world. There are many ways of seeing, many ways of feeling, many ways of knowing, all coexisting, each with its own particular value. There are many competing, and often co-equal truths, that point to a higher truth or truths. An educated, and more importantly, an ethical individual must become aware of them all. This is the job of literature in this era. We must implement these ways of thinking, and not merely theorize about them.

To this end, in my poetry I sacrifice accuracy in one dimension (one level of meaning) to gain accuracy in multiple dimensions (multiple levels of meaning). For some people it makes my writing too difficult to penetrate. I truly regret this, but I will persist in my vision. Perhaps if I explain how it works (how I think and compose), I might be able to make my poetry a bit more approachable. What follows are two common examples of superimposed meanings that can be found in my writing. The first involves modifications of spelling. The second involves modifications of grammar and verb tense, as well as spelling.

On September 25, 2006, you can find a poem entitled “Kinder, Prepare Yurselz.” We will go no further than the title, which contains two variant spellings representing superimposed ideas. The first is the word “Kinder,” which is intended to have two meanings: 1) “to be more compassionate,” which, if I didn’t intend a second meaning, I would have spelled “kiender” to indicate the long “i” in pronunciation, and 2) “children,” from the German and Yiddish. The second variant in spelling that signals multiple meanings is “Yurselz.” The word refers directly to the word “yourselves,” but I have substituted “-selz” for “-selves” to show that this is not simply a psychological process related to the self, but a process that must penetrate all the way into our bodies, into our cells. We children must prepare ourselves profoundly, physically and mentally. And we must prepare ourselves to be kinder, more compassionate. I could delve further into the implications, but I hope that gives a sufficient taste.

The second example can be found on November 2, 2006, in the poem “Plowmen with Taelz.” In the second stanza I write:

     "I meet a plowman a reternen frum feelz.
     "He will say, ‘For jennerratenz I am plow this expanz.
          ‘My lingz ar groen frum its oxxide dust.

There’s a lot going on here! We have the clashing present tense of “meet” with the future tense of “will say.” I did this for a number of reasons. The simplest is that often our experiences are not understood until much later, so that what we hear now, we will re-hear differently in the future. Secondly, time is purely a function of consciousness. I have come to believe that past, present, and future all coexist, but our experience is limited, as Blake says, “by our senses five... which are the inlets to the Soul in this age.” “For jenneratenz I am plow” suggests another aspect of the time-consciousness unity. The moment of consciousness in this statement spans generations. Such a claim has important implications, both for the definition of “self,” and for our understanding of how experience and belief are culturally transmitted. Finally, “lingz ar groen” is fraught with meaning. “Lingz” are both “lungs” and “languages” and “groen” is both “grown” and “groan.” And all the possible combinations of meanings coexist and amplify each other.

Understanding how I write may not make reading my poetry any easier, but perhaps you may be comforted to know that there’s reason, purpose, and intention in it. Perhaps it is only cold comfort.

However, I think it is very important to make this distinction: what I’m trying to do is the opposite of what I see as an overwhelming tendency in modern poetry, that is, the creating of intentional ambiguity, the purpose of which is to create the illusion of deeper meaning(s) without the author’s intentionality of what that meaning is. We know this kind of ambiguity creates merely an illusion of depth, because a byword of modern poetics is that “the reader must create the meaning,” thus absolving the author of that responsibility. I reject this perspective entirely. It is the author’s job to create meaning, and to convey it clearly.

Now, the search for multi-dimensional accuracy is not a matter of (mere) rationalism and logic. Often the choices one makes are intuitive, or based on feeling and sensuality. Depending on the author’s success, the accuracy and richness of the language may be deteriorated or amplified. The author is guided, to one degree or another, by personal, transpersonal, and/or transcendent (dare I say Divine) knowledge, and the literary outcome is dependent on the quality, authority, and genuineness of that knowledge.

In pursuit of the scientific method, modern language has evolved to strip ambiguity, at the cost of reduction in levels of meaning. English has been the leader in this enterprise, thereby becoming enormously powerful (and by the way, a highly intimidating carrier of dangerous culture to those who resist this process). I have tried to break the mold of English, not as an act of resistence, but in an effort to regain complexity of knowledge and efficiency of expression, while holding onto accuracy of language. This is not a strange or unique or aberrant goal. Mathematical notation epitomizes this process. One need only read a modern physics text (say Feynman, who speaks to expert and layman alike) to experience the efficient complexity of thought embedded in mathematical language.

In sum, our art and language have the ability to evolve, and to evolve us, into higher levels of consciousness, but that requires new kinds of language and language tools. Failing that, our art will remain mired in Aristotelian one-dimensionality, and we will, with impotent romanticism, look back on the literature of “ancient” languages, such as Hebrew/Arabic and Sanskrit, as the last bastions of holy ambiguity.

For my sister; from my sister

Deer wunz
          Du not say, "We hav loss the way."
          But neether say, "It iz shorlee knowen."


My Rizel Frum a Narro Plase
               For my sister, Rizel Laya

It happend wuns, Rabbiy Yosee wuz wokking
Ammung the ruwenz ov the Tempel, the nashenz.
The saekred stoenz wer a sarro dissarray,
The pure morter intu krumbelz and lime.

Pressing between the falen piller
A witen dust on hiz tungz and breechez,
Thare kumz he intu a dirj, a breth
Ov wind, a Dotter ov a Vois*, a rushing.
                         * In Hebrew: “But Koel,”
                         where Koel is “voice”
                         and But is “daughter/feminine.”
                         The phrase is usually translated
                         “Divine Voice.”

And she sed:
     “I hu am dowting; unwerthee, unwerthee!
     “No mor may I enter in dwelling the Lor.
     “I must liv my sarro, an unspeken exxile;
     “No mor may I heer the salmz on my hart.

     “Silens, silens, wut a punnish yu ar!
          “Tu understand no mor the ling ov my Soel*!”
                         * Utherz say: yewth

Then Reb Yosee sat down on the shardz and ponderd,
Tu heer this vois a rizel in hiz Soel,
Him huze hole life a devvoten tu the ling
In hiz Soel, hu kan heer her praerz so klare.

Then this faent breez, this wind breth, Reb Yosee:
     “O Sister ov a Vois, so dowtful, dowtful,
     “Huze iyz ar blerring in this Tempel a Ruwenz,
     “Huze vois iz chok ov the dust all a werl,
     “Lissen, o lissen. Wut ar theze werdz
     “If not a brij? Take wun mor step
     “Bak tu yur Soel, tu yur waeten joy.
     “Weeping, weeping. Return frum yur exxile.
     “Ammung the Ruwenz, Sister Vois, arize!”

Slow to drink, but deeply

I confess, this one always makes me smile. With thanx to Louis, Reb Arya Zev, who helps me unravel myselves.

Sweet Wotterz
               "The unholy surrounds the holy"
               -- Rebbe Nachman
Thare iz a pool ov wotter
And evree day I see it,
Sitting still and kalm
Reflekting the shaddoez and liets.

I see it and it kallz tu me:
     "Kum dreenk. Defer
     "Frum yur goingz a duingz.
     "This Momen ammung mennee momen,
     "Take a sip and reflek."

A kleer pool in a kleering.
Wy du I feel such dout?
Wy du I hezzatate tu go
Tu take the steps, tu neel,
Tu kup my hand and dip it in?

Thare iz a well, deep and silent.
If yu wisper down, nuthing reternz;
If yu speek, garbeld sowndz will ekko;
If yu drop a rok, yu heer but a splash.

A deep well, not far awway.
Wy duz it draw me
Tu lowwer a bukket, tu werk the pullee?
Wy du I not draw frum it?

Iz thare not a tumarro an marro?
Hav I not drunk mennee time?
Iz it not kleen and kleer and refressing?
Iz thare a feer or a lak ov therst?

Thare iz a gergelling brouk, not far...
A path I kno well; I see it now,
That leedz ammung the russelling boushez.
I louk at my woch and I tern...

Evree path arrownd me overgrowen,
Wen Reb Arya Zev, sent by Reb Yosee
Kumz frum behiend and wochez me awile.
Then he asks, "Du yu theenk the wotter iz safe?"

     "This iz not just wotter
     "And yu ar no littel sipper.
     "This iz a likker that taerz yur Seel,
     "And that iz a mikveh intu Deth-Staets.

     "Wen did yu last dans naked down the street,
     "Or ly konvulsen yur oen vommet?
     "Ar yu reddee tu sakrafise yur luv wun, Izak
     "Or tu maek yur bed in a lyon den?"

Then Reb Arya smielz hiz smielz, and askt,
"How ar theengz?" and befor I waested
Hiz time, he left; and I, I just marvelld.
     Thare iz a pool, dellereyen sweet...

Our 'reason' is a bucketful of one-dimensional correspondences

This, from my collection, Ammung the Ruwenz ov the Tempel, I Herd...

Offeringz Thru the Nite

And the Lor enterd intu Proffets,
Frum Moesheh tu Ezra,
Tu emmerj a Torra thru them.

And Uddoniy askt them,
     "Yu hu kry ekstattek weepingz
     "In Owwer speretchuwel kohabbettate:
     "How will the chieldz rememmer This Moment,
     "And how will the knowen My Prezens be sustaend?
     "In the day wen My rezen iz unfathem.
          "The paganz will hak at the branchen ov my Tree.
          "Thay will wieldlee tare at its illumennaten leevz,
          "And bern owt the nests in its swaying arberz,
          "And the dellakkut frute thay will kast in the street
          "Tu krush with the heel ov thaer pawlish boots.
          "And the faent iyz pepel will refuze tu see.
          "Thay will fill thaer iyz with delluezhen and mith,
          "And no mor deziyer the taest ov trueth.

     "And thus My riten
     "Until yu understand:
          "The offer on its piyer on the Alter all nite
          "Until the morning the fiyer on the Alter keep berning.*
                    * Viyeekra/Leviticus 6

     "If yu keep the fiyer berning all nite
     "Then My absens will kum tu an end.
     "If not, tu hume and tu wut will I retern?
     "Hu iz slaying the bullz?
     "Hu iz laying a hart-wept peese on the flamen?"

Thinking of David van Dusen and broken worlds

In Zohar, the author-prophets talk about the Divine Light shining so brightly, so powerfully, that it shatters the vessels intended to contain it. (A Divine engineering flaw? A flawed Kabbalistic metaphor?) In any case, the result is that we, in the 8th day now of creation/creating, are mandated (and womandated) to carry on the process of creating, while the Divine withdraws and observes our work (avodah). The Gnostics, who see the Biblical "God" as evil, would translate "avodah" here as "slavery." More traditional readers of Bible would translate it "holy work."

Meddattaten a Braken Vessel

We ar the 8th day, werld kreyatenz,
Extenden the Divvine Prezzens
Deeper intu matter, expanderz ov time.
Intu the rejenz still void,
Intu the klowdee werldz arrownd Addom,
Dens mist ov tohu and vohu,* raenz a Divine Life.
               * see Genesis 1:2

Kan it be? This! Godz werl,
Konshents hewn ov Uddoniy?
Kan thare be rejenz a remoov frum lite?

We ar the 8th day, dessenden with life,
Addomz upspringz: the Devoraz, the Ruets.
A long kerv ov departen, now reternz.
Ternd owwer baks on kulcher ov konker,
On the krude koedz and hewmen sakraffise.
Attanenz tu preesthoud, we unvois the rebbel seel
Frum Nebbakh-kannezzer tu Soddee Jehod.

Kan thare be pepelz remoovd frum Lite?
Hewman life unyoekt frum Uddoniy?
Kan thare be konshents withowt a Kawz?
It kannot be!

But wut ov them, the hatrenz and vilen?
Them ov kersen, thaer faeth a wor?
Thay ar not seelz soen ov evel.
Thay remoov the Lite frum themsellz.

Written in Beijing

Beijing Journal: Hutoongs

I know I cannot see far
Among these alleys and their crooked, aching ways.
But step by step and veil by veil, I pick my way,
As if thru gauzy curtains; as if thru dusk and shadows.
Another dead end. I turn and brush aside another veil.
It slides across my face in whiffs of charcoal and kabob.
Beyond, I push back courser curtains of dust and fumes,
Swirling in the wake of a motorized rickshaw.

With each step I traverse a momentary universe.
This one is bordered in a frayed brocade of rubbish.
And then, behind a curtain of airy music,
A man squats on an oily stone, picking for ball bearings
From a pile of motor parts. Like a fine machine, he rolls them
Between his finger and thumb, to test if they are worn.

Now, sitting within a lacy cloud of boiling tea
Two men play a board game with ivory disks,
Thinking, slamming, sliding, then... I've passed beyond.

On a slower board, a roof tile slides.
The world thinks; it slides some more, and slams
With a muffled crash into a hidden courtyard.

Wondering, searching, I bend and peek
Around a low and narrow doorway framed in banners.
What say these hieroglyphs on crimson drapes
Fluttering around doors into a still more narrow path?
Aha! I see the broken roof tile, where it lies
Among a stack of crates, a twisted broom,
Some broken pots, a heap of coal.
So much more, but these veils close so fast...

I come to another set of doors, all patched and shrouded
With hammered plates of tin and heavy bolts.
Someone else’s hand throws askew these veils.
Inside, a wall of broken bricks, aslant to the vertical.
By art or by decay, it achieves a certain grace,
As I pass by. And that veil, too, turns once again opaque
Within this maze of glimpses and conjecture.

More on science and religion

In his insightful comment to my last post, David Van Dusen <http://www.typeschrift.blogspot.com/> says:

"The dogs will fight." & "There is a (divine) gradient to nature." --- Indeed! --- And a divine gradient, also, to the blood-feuds, cock-fights, and peace-by-other-means we wage over Divinity, and Nature?

Well David, a "Divine gradient" does not mean a straight line. To the contrary, it means a tendency with many irregularities and seeming inconsistencies, and even much that appears retrograde.

One example: The Romans destroyed the 2nd Temple and did their best to destroy Judaism, but what resulted was a renewed Judaism, Rabbinic Judaism, with a profoundly powerful social, moral, and intellectual trajectory. That’s the Jewish view, and we’ve been saying it for 1800 years, but you would be hard-pressed to find much Christian (or Muslim) acknowledgment of that point of view until the enlightenment was well under way (1750+). In fact, in Europe (as opposed to the US, whose founders used Judaism as an important model) it only became "reasonable" to openly talk about Judaism’s historic value and validity after the military destruction of European nazism. That war, which dismantled the last vestiges of Europe’s moral and intellectual "authority," allowed a more open and honest reevaluation of Judaism and Jews. In sum, in spite of, shall we say, 95 generations of active resistence, the Divine gradient, which we Jews believe establishes Judaism’s priesthood role, persisted. Israel was restored, and Judaism’s fundamental importance to Western and Middle Eastern culture is now beginning to be acknowledged and studied by people other than Jews.

The clash of science and religion

Jbooks.com, in its 'discussions' section posed the following question to its readers, under the title of The Clash of Scientific Understanding and Religious Truth:

"Rabbi Soloveitchik suggests that the controversy isn't between evolution and creationism, nor is it whether God exists. The issue at heart is that man cannot be both made in the divine image and be equal to other species.

Are you convinced? Does human capacity for understanding our physical world separate us from everything or do biological similarities trump religion? Can science and religion ultimately be synthesized?"

I responded:

I think the Reb is a bit inaccurate in his thinking here. Science can not, and will not extinguish the divine spark in humans. That spark is an existential fact, tho many may not be attuned to it. Neither will science diminish our (apparent) higher consciousness of the divine; that is, higher as compared to other animals. The conflict between science and religion is really not about truth. It is about modes of thinking, and authority.

As for authority, the transfer of power from religious institutions to secular ones (or vice versa), was and is a turf war. The dogs will fight.

I think the more interesting issue is modes of thought. Put in its simplest terms, science asks how, and religion asks why. For example, we would not go to an evolutionary biologist to get an answer to why we humans exist. We would rather ask how we (probably) came to exist here. We would ask 'why are we here?' to a person who specializes in addressing questions of ethics and values.

However, the 2 modes of thinking are critically dependent. The Hebrew Bible often addresses the issue of how, and produces anecdotal evidence to describe the process. For example, Beraysheet/Genesis begins as a clearly scientific text, addressing the issues of origin of the universe (1:1+), origin (and evolution) of species (1:11+), origin of culture (2:16+, 6:18+, and other places), and origin of nations (10:1+). Science has filled in a great deal of detail in some areas.

But the evolutionists (and I am being specific here for the sake of brevity), for all their focus on process, have failed to grasp and work with an essential fact: there is a (divine) gradient to nature. What drives evolution, a process that goes from simple to more complex? There is no survival advantage in greater complexity. Indeed, it violates the principles of inertia and entropy. Specifically, "life" appears to be non-inertial in its behavior. There are no physics to answer the questions of what sets life in motion, what resists it, and what impels it. Life is anti-entropic in its trajectory towards greater complexity and organization. The evolutionists simply ignore these essential "details" and not a few other issues as well.

In sum, there is no conflict between science and religion, even tho there are many foolish and uninformed (or ideologically pre-formed) people on both sides.

Musings on the nature of cause and effect

We must rethink our linear and simplistic ideas about cause and effect. This is true not only for the physical world, but even more critically, for the nature of consciousness, or as some would call it, the spiritual world. The following poem continues my explorations on these matters.

Mewzen on Kawz in Effeks

Hoeshaya 8:4: "They ordained officers but I [God] did not know."

How kan this be?
Wut iz it God duz not kno?

Thus we ar telld:
The hewman Seel in Addom iz non-exxisten.
Oenlee az it seek holeeness,
Oenlee az it bilden knowen,
Oenlee az it persu justis,
Duz it rizen tu exxisten.
Els it stumbel in degreez a darkness
And exxert itsellz tu no effeks.

Addom themsell iz mere indetermennus.
The Prezzens a God alone giv direkten tu the werl.
And wut iz not tu God will fall awway, debree,
Az a skatter a leevz sterrd by a winden,
Az a pile ov ashez, a life bernd awway.

That wich livz in darkness, in Addom
Haz no fewcher in Godz evolven werlz.
It shudder and flikkerz, it vibe and reverb
Beneeth the kawz and effeks a Life.
The vast and tedeyus hewman laberz
Ar but soyelz in wich the dellakkut frute
Ov the hewman Seel iz seed and rooted.
This sivvillazzaten, this moest ov wut we see
Iz insubstanshel, iz a dezzert merrozh,
Like dust devvelz sterrd by owwer on-rushen Lor.

The Ejjipshenz, the Babballoneyanz, and the Romenz,
The inkwizzatterz, the zarz, the notseez,
The iyattolahz, thay will all tare down,
But the Lor iz lift Hem holee wunz.
And the tru, the holee werk kontinnewz
And, nevver dout, but nuthing haz bin loss.

Opening stanza to (Stormz and Graevz)

What follows is transcribed out of my notebooks. It’s a kind of peek into my literary and conceptual processes, as I try to convert threshold experiences into known language. It is really a process of translation. The Biblical Prophets, Dante, Milton, Shelley, Blake, Bialek: they were all expert translators, and they are my guides.

Two simple notes for those of you who may try to read this:
Words in parentheses are uncertain. Often I come up with a series of alternatives as I try to unpack and explore the poetic experience (ie, the thought-vision) shaping the image and action. Not infrequently, there is no “correct” word, the poetic experience being multi-faceted. In this case, the group of alternatives, as a whole, can be thought of as being the best estimate of the experience. But, God knows, my poetry is hard enough as it is, so, ultimately, I pare it down to produce a fair copy of the poem.
Phrases in brackets are also uncertain, as with words in parens.

(Down marbel kollonaedz that (sparkel)(boyel)(plunj) like (wotterfallz)(kristel kaskaedz)
Eech likwid kollum splashing at owwer feet,
A spray of lite, mika and (korts)(kworts),
Iz a (gaetway) intu [the Pardaes Uddoniy][owwer Pardaes breet*][owwer Pardaes, a breet*].
               * “breet:” holee kontrakt; kuvvannent

A week later, I revised the above to this:

Ar thay (marbel)(skulpted)(ruwend) kollonnaedz? Ar thay (kristel)(marbel) kaskaedz?
Ar thay likwid (kollumz)(skroelz)(duenz) (unroling at)(washing tu) owwer feet?
A spray ov lite (;)(frum) mika and korts,
[A fomee serf][And a kwiyer ov waevz][And the rumbel and mermer] (at)(by) [the Gaets ov the See].

And as I try to focus the above, this is what I’m currently thinking will work:

Ar thay marbel kollonnaedz? Ar thay kristel kaskaedz?
Ar thay likwid skroelz unroling at owwer feet?
A spray ov lite, mika and korts,
In a kwiyer ov waevz at the Gaets ov the See.

From: Ammung the Ruwenz ov the Tempel, I Herd...

I have always felt that everything that can be known, is revealed in the waves of the ocean...

Open Wun Skroel, Enter the Ferst Wave
               Shabbat Pesukh khoel Ha-mowaed 5760
               Shakhreet Shemmona Esray

And then I kame tu the Grate See.
And the darkness in the forres
Reseeded intu oek shrub
And yello flowwer brume.
Then sharp ej beech grass rubbd my shinz,
And the roer ov brakerz washt akross my fase.

My foutprints krosst the beech in her singing,
Her armz spred wide with fraktel pattern tallit*.
               *shawl; sandz
She dessendz and the wotterz rize up tu her,
Erasing the kruwelteez that hav echt thaer furroez
Intu her fase. Re-riets her histerree evree momen.
Unkovverz her seel in salm an immerzhen.

I lay with her, lips tu her lips,
Brest tu my brest; the shape ov my boddee
Imprest in her Soel, an expans ov sand.
The see sang its versez tu me by thowzendz,
Wave after wave, vers after vers,
Storee after storee, letter after letter,
Era after era, the brakerz the song,
Reveeled tu eech Soel and tu all the werldz,
And hu evver iz reddee tu approech tu lissen.

I gaezd on the skroelz unroeling befor me
Trying tu interpret thaer infinnit voise.
Eech skroel az it opend reveeld ferther skroelz,
Eech werd expanding tu hewman lievz,
Eech skroel re-roeling and klozing at my feet,
Swerling a foming arrownd my aenkelz.

I reecht down tu gather and lift up a handful.
Between my feengerz a dimend kaskade.
I splash my fase, senshuwus and koeld.

The songz kaskaden; thay rize and re-spirel,
And I, huze steps will be eraest frum the beech,
Konkluden my praerz, I steppt back and bow.

A message from beyond the body

This poem won an award in the 2005 Reuben Rose International Competition.

Tahharra: Borderz
               begun 10 Tishray, 5764
Frum I, hu am not,
Tu yu, hu ar not;
I, hu hav seest tu be
Tu yu, hu ar no mor.

Havving taken wun step up the infinnit ladder
Owwer lumennus boddeez tranzmit thaer knowenz...
     A bowndree ov C,
     Ware we stand, this side
     Ov the ark ov the Lor.

With theze eyz
     The long ark ov dezzerted beech
     Seen frum on hi, the Truro duenz.
     And the koeld Atlantek, ultra mareen,
     Rippeld in the tenshenz ov plannettaree moeshenz.
     Between the infinnit graenz ov sand
     And the kolapsing waevz ov rezistless momentum,
     A thin wite line of lasee foem,
     Swaying and swerling a dellikut border...
That iz the kerten, and behiend it I stand,
The not me of lite in the not yu ov lite
Within the arken Torrah and Divvine gaetwayz.

With eyz kuvverd by karben** shardz
               ** utherz say "potterree"
     The Hi Preest prepaerz,
     Hiz breth groez shallo.
     Hiz fase deth pale, handz almoest fleshless,
     Hiz skin tranzlusen az skraept parchmen.
     Kloethd in a robe ov fine woven kotten,
     A brusht wite brokade and thik kotten belt.
     A brusht wite skull kap, kotten brokade
          Its dansing liyonz and leeping deer.
     Hiz naelz ar klippt, hiz wite beerd trimmd,
     He immerst 3 tiemz in a chill mikvah.**
               ** ritchuwel baething

     The Hi Preest prepaerz.
     He seesez tu breeth;
     The waevlike moeshen ov hiz puls groez long.
     He taeks a last step, an endless instant
     Az he enterz the ark ov Divvine Prezzens.

That iz the kerten, and behiend it I stand,
The not me ov lite in the not yu ov lite,
Boddeez ov lite within the tranzlusent arks ov Torrah.

RE: the poem: Guerden ov Addomz (see 10/26/06)

Reb Rick Kool wrote to me, asking:

So what is it that is written in our cells that we drag up the hill? The search for the peaceful place, the search for the garden with food (all kinds of foods for mind and body), or is it that our cells tell us to stir up dust?

In answering him, I thought maybe it would be of interest to all of you, so here it is:

I guess I would have to answer that, on the first level, the poem attempts to unlock these kind of questions, rather than provide answers. But then again, I hate writers that spew out the copped-out, bullshit company line that "art and literature have no meaning except what each reader/viewer gives it." That's just so much hogwash in a bucket.

So I am glad if this poem inspires questions, but if that's all it does, it's a failure. If art/literature is to be more than decoration or entertainment, if it is to take leadership responsibility for making this world a better place, the author must be able to clearly convey intentions (in-tensions) and meanings, and not merely create questions, ambiguities, and bizarreties.

Technically, I am merging/superimposing into a single picture a few worlds: 1) this, the one we see with our eyes; 2) the after-death state which we cannot see at all with any certainty; 3) the Biblical-spiritual world that provides us with images of some kind of original (or pre-world) paradise, that may also be, 4) a Divine state of peace and perfection that is immanent but hidden.

We are the tillers of this soil, this world, but yet we hardly know what fruit it is we grow or harvest. Indeed, we are so busy, so overwhelmed even, with the details, that we hardly have the time, much less the vision, to contemplate what, if any, are the enduring impacts of our presence and our work here. We have hardly the time or the vision to consider that, as many believe, we stand in the Presence of the Divine, and yet, grievously, we see with our eyes how shameless our behavior can be. Many also believe the Messiah has come, and yet, grievously, we see with our eyes that these are not Messianic times, at least by any definition I can understand.

Perhaps with these kinds of meditations we can begin to remove the veil from our eyes, a curtain upon which is projected this obvious world, but which separates us from higher states of knowing and being. Many say, "no, there is only this world, and it is not (but) a veil." They say there is nothing deeper, nothing Divine, nothing Messianic to see or to know.

But I have seen the veil pulled back, and I am trying to address that experience and convey it, both for those who don't believe there is anything beyond this world, and for those who have seen beyond, and want to see more. The problem is, visionary experiences transcend our rationality, and thus can't be conveyed in simple, or literal, or rationalistic modalities. I'm not interested in telling about the experience. Plenty of others have done that. I want to generate a reality transcending experience in the reader! My response is to construct linguistic forms that stretch, or tear, the fabric of language, and that superimpose multiple states and places. By partially emulating the "visionary" experience, perhaps I can literarily (and literally) activate or stimulate it. I don't know what else to do, to try to help people see thru, or beyond, that which appears so opaque, so impenetrable, so insurmountable.

But to attempt to achieve such results in one way or another is absolutely necessary. Whether I succeed or fail is another issue entirely. How else are we to be inspired to change, to do better, if we cannot begin to glimpse the Divine Presence beyond the veil?

Tahara: "purities," also used in the sense to prepare a body for burial

Deer Wunzelz and Rappunzelz,

There's nothing like good poesy. Well, anyway... today, I'm not uploading the one that refers to Darcy Thomson's On Growth and Form. That one's titled "Lamment ov the Hi Preest." It happened to me while walking my son Cal to school. Aaaaannnnd, I'm not uploading the one that explores, in an imagistic manner, the way in which randomness and determinism are simply two sides of a divine coin. It begins with a cool epigram from Zohar 1:15b, "The letters and vowel-points follow (Him) in their singing... like an army at the behest of the king."

Instead, this (which was recently published in the journal Sh’ma)...


Tahharrah: Boddeez ov Lite
               week ov Va'yera, (Genesis 18-22)
Thare iz a man, hiz boddeez wer lite.

Wen he sat in hiz hows, mingeld with eevning,
Hiz boddee ar shaddoez in the pajez ov a bouk.

Wen he wokkt on the way, hiz chields befor him,
Hiz boddee iz a darkness aggenst the briten sun.

Wen he praez with hiz minyen, wisper and wunder,
Hiz boddee ar not, but a fluttering shawl.

Ware he sell frum hiz skreen owt tu the markets,
He wer fleshee fasez, and hevvee armz.

He haz wokkt in feeldz, furro and klod,
The raen a dripping down hiz shivver ov boenz.

This iz the man and hiz boddeez ov lite.

Eech benden shape and eech deegree ov thikness
Iz a vael, abstrakt on the Hevvenlee pallas.

Eech gate tu Hevven iz thin az a shaddo,
     Like a pawlish marbel, likwid and smooth.
Eech windo dissolvz in a prizzem ov lite,
     An oeshen ov unprediktabbel glints.
It's wallz ar kerv in a mennee foelden kerten,
     Lase within lase ov intrekkut dezine.
With iyz, the man will not see a way in.

Kaerful, methoddek, intense reppattishen
Ov lissen and feel, a strikt hullakhah*,
               * Jewish law; divine behavior patterns
Such a dellakut tuch on a flutter ov shawlz.

     Like lips slo karressing her foerhed, her nape,
     Her shoelderz, her brests, such a slo karress;
     Downwerd, downwerd, in erottek foeldz,
     Lips barelee tuch, all breth and trembel...

So the man ov lite, hiz boddeez ov deziyer
Muving ekstattek* in the vaelz ov Uddoniy.
               * the fizzekz ov it iz, mor propperlee
               "Muving diskontinnuwus"

New verses for the Zohar

So here's something I'm working on. This is an excerpt from a long semi-narrative poem called The Pardaes Dokkumen. It is the first 2 of 4 stanzas, but I thought 22 lines was enough to begin with here.

Context: There is a story (midrash) in Talmud (~2nd-5th C. CE) of 4 sages who ascend to "pardaes." This word can be translated as "garden" or "paradise" in its most obvious interpretations, but the midrash itself is very enigmatic. Of the 4 sages who ascend, one comes back an apostate, one comes back apparently mad, one doesn't come back (suicide? dead?), and one comes back "whole." The Zohar (~13th C. CE) picks up on the Pardaes midrash, directly and indirectly in many of its passages - mostly tangential expansions on the story. Also, the Zohar occasionally cloaks a great sage in the appearance of a peasant or lowly worker. "The Pardaes Dokkumen" draws on both Talmud and Zohar, as it reframes the story. I hope that gives you enough references points to read this excerpt.

Plowmen with Taelz

A donkee driver sed,
"I met a plowman reterning frum feeldz,
"Hu sed, ‘This partikkuler vallee iz flud,
     ‘And the oxxen ar serlee and I hav plow
     ‘The muk and the klay intu thik slerree.
     ‘Up tu my waest I hav groen and drivven
     ‘The beests, foemen at nostrel and kikken;
     ‘The plow in my handz, a sord tu the erth.
     ‘That iz the Torrah ov my narro vale.
     ‘The ferro ar fludden and no wun kan dissern
     ‘The seed frum the staen in the lienz I skribe.'"

A wotter kareyer sed,
"I meet a plowman a reternen frum feelz.
"He will say, ‘For jennerratenz I am plow this expanz.
     ‘My lingz ar groen frum its oxxide dust.
     ‘In morning its salt iz kurst on my iyz.
     ‘My fout print rekorden on the dune and drift.
     ‘My skin a reenkel az my plow iz reenkel.
     ‘Wut I du tu the lan, it duz tu me.
     ‘That iz the Torrah ov this endless span.
     ‘The sun and the wind strip off owwer raen.
     ‘We kut owwer ferro; thay bekum owwer grave.'"