Word Experiences--Out Loud

Words used to be experiences.  Words still are experiences, but we have lost our mooring to their origin.  In times past words were considered all powerful. If someone knew your true name they had power over you. If a person could learn the right words, they could cast a spell.   Medieval manuscripts are filled with exquisite illuminations of the word.  The book of John even begins,  "In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was made flesh."

Words are primal.  They began with the breath.  I guess you could say, "In the beginning was the breath."  And from breath comes sound which is created by breath being shaped in the body—the tongue, the lips, the vocal chords and where the breath comes from in the body cavity.   How it's shaped where it is centered how it moves in the body shapes the outcome of gesture, movement, tone rhythm which in turn shapes the outcome of the words.  It's a bit of a  "sound" robin.  I believe all of these components are embedded  into words and are inherent in words and when words are spoken out loud from a congruent place they are extremely evocative and potent and can take us either  into new experiences or enrich or illuminate experiences we have had.

The reason I am even having this conversation about words is that I feel words have lost their potency in modern times.  Printing, typing, the internet, texting have contributed towards words being used for reading and information.  Words stay on the page and don't often come off of it with sound.  Words have become  symbols for exciting expository and exploratory thinking.   But more and more they are stopping on the page or stopping with the thought process.  They have gotten vitiated.  Spoken words by default have traversed this same path.  The most juicy word out there now is the "f" bomb and it has it's power since it is forbidden.  We've gained from the powerful thinking styles which come from words treated this way,  but we're forgetting what they originally gave us:  direct links to experience, direct links to connection.  These kind of links are taken not only to the mind, but also to the body--the heart, the gut, sensuous enjoyment.... 

In modern times there are only narrow doors with which sound is acknowledged in words.  There's onomatopoetic words: " screech", "wow" , " titillate".  But this doesn't make up a large part of our lexicon.  And there's phonetics which talk about sound and combination of sounds: consonants, vowels, semi-vowels, mutes and liquids.  Readers and poets can use this information.  But for readers this information is functional.  Poets and songwriter's work with rhythms, arcs, counterpoint.  And some eastern religions use the sound of syllables and words to take people into different states of consciousness.  But again in the modern western world there is not the attention to the individual sounds in any given word.  To me so many words have beautiful "sound" fancy dresses and we should appreciate them, take pleasure in them, and let ourselves be transported by them.

Shakespeare composed his plays with the stuff of sound.  He would create anger in a character by  choosing  combustive sounds and explosive combinations of words.  If a a character was struggling with a decision he would pick word combinations which were hard to say together.  Certain more feminine characters would speak with more lilting " ssssss's"  and " llllll's."  The sounds, the rhythms, the syntax would evoke the moods, the feelings.  All good Shakespearean actors know this.  They don't have to go into a character by themselves.  The actual dialogue will take them there.  All they have to do is sink into the language.

Yeats is another sound master.  For a treat listen to Yeats reading his poem "Isle of Innisfree" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u2FT4_UUa4I  He says in this recording that  he is emphasizing the rhythms of the poems,>  Listen to that but also listen to the care he gives to sounding the resonances of  each words.  They roll out of the chest, across the tongue and out of the mouth.   So much beauty, richness, and depth. 

That's what I hope to do in my poetry. Of course I am humbled by these masters.  But to me they are pointing to treasure.   My goal in many of my poems is to create sounds, rhythms which generate experiences in the audience.  And when I sound out my poems to an audience I  add the present to include inflections, intonations, and cadences which the words invoke in me on a personal level.  That is why I am a poet.  I love to create  multidimensional and different experiences.  So let the words tickle your ears whether you hear them from me or whether you read them  out loud.  Let your ears hear groups of sounds, rhymes, slant rhymes, changes in pacing, changes in tone. Let your ears hear sound resonances and let the resonances carry you where they will.  We need to take the words off the page and into our ears.

Soon I will post "soundings" of some of my poems.  You can read poems of mine out loud from past blog posts.

 Let me know what takes you.  Let me know what doesn't.  And let me know other sound treasures you find.

WEATHER

For Miyazaki


Green green all is green

morning:  pressure building mounting compression darkening clouds thicken
sky and me about to burst
a Scheherazade wind sweeps in
redwood boughs blow down and up
skimmering the roof of the old dutch barn
setting off needles in a twisting twirling dance.

And then the rains came

a rush of water tumbles down is struck sideways by sudden gusts
and swims  across the sky.

A shift in the wind

water streams straight down in glistening strands
the sound of fall
earth becomes drum
and it in turn plays me
Release.

The wind comes back bouncing

puffs of air displace drips with pockets of air
patterns of water and clouds of space--
silence in the empty places.

A shift again

rain begins to slant in a diagonal vector
moves to syncopated pings:  ping     pingping     pingpingping            
ping
(my lips curl in smile)
stopping
stop
stopped.

The very air becomes a factor.

still, clear
I can see straight through
to forever.

Below, green green all is...

my moods  move like weather
( on any given day.)

All is  green

CLOUDS

Clouds flowing across the moon

In rivers of air.

My breath sleeps

        Feels its shape

         And pulse.

The wings of my back

          Relax.

The light flickers

          From day to night

          And back again.

                   Setting up its own font

                       Resetting my eyes.

My fingers want to touch

My mouth to taste

           What is so far away….

I feel the moisture

         In my bones.

         The smile.

a simple for emily

Big black bumblebee
With a buzz so strong
It pulls me
Out of my
Reverie
To the simple
Task
Of Looking.

astonishing emily dickinson poem about grief

There is a pain—so utter—
It swallows substance up—
Then covers the Abyss with Trance—
So Memory can step
Around—across—upon it—
As one within a Swoon—
Goes safely—where an open eye—
Would drop Him—Bone by Bone.

Written awhile back but appropriate for California

SPRING IS NOT A GENTLE THING

There are days when you go outside
And are stunned by the glories of nature
Purple skies
Sunwhite clouds
Carpets of neon yellow
Other days you go out
You are part of it.

A red -headed and throated fox
With plumed
Salt and pepper tail
Ambled towards me today
Straight towards me
No stopping.

Finally I shouted, “Hey!”

He looked at me like
“Well, okay, if you insist.”

He scooted under the
Barbed wire fence
Running alongside
And still kept coming
In my direction
Like the fence
Would make all
The difference.

He glided by
Licking
His lips
Letting his
Tongue
Lollygag
To the side.
Panting
Puffing
In the newborn
Heat of spring.

I succumbed.