Saturday, 24 March 2012

A Basket of Snakes

.

Snake charmer, Varanasi, India: photo by fredcan, 2006



Beyond the shadow of the ship
..I I watch'd the water-snakes...


When Coleridge "saw" the water snakes

was he having

"The Horrors"? Poisonous coils

of those

notoriously assail


"Poets in their Youth". Later

Despondency

and Madness

allow so much less

free time.






Bapuji & his daughter, Varanasi. India. This sadhu is a Khareshwari Sita Ram Baba (Vishnu devotee) who has already been doing tapasya for over 10 years, that is making a vow to keep standing for 20 years, a mortification of the body to concentrate on the mind: photo by fredcan, 2007

13 comments:

  1. The obvious locus classicus for this small dismal thoughtlet (admittedly sea-changed somewhat in the serpentine channels of Time):

    We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
    But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

    Wordsworth, Resolution and Independence (writ 1802)

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  2. The pendulum handed me

    arcs wildly in a distant
    though not disembodied way ‒
    my friend once more flailing between
    disappointment and belief

    *

    Ghosts I never saw still
    the hairs rose at the nape . . .

    Grandmother
    conversing with her (long) dead husband . . .

    seems now so ordinary

    no hypnosis necessary

    Terror a walking commonplace

    An explanation for everywhere

    (Those years few after all)

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  3. In the end what else can we say but Let It Go?

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  4. But was Sam able to do that when Charles Lamb (knowing his penchant for the supernatural) asked him Whether the higher order of Seraphim Illuminati ever sneer?

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  5. I have no answer to Mr Lamb's Questions but I do take away the word 'oppugned'

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  6. I really like Empson's 'Legal Fiction'

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  7. T misquote Mr. Empson:-

    I'm no' mad yet

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  8. Well it mentions a snake and is one of my more crazy pieces of scribble??? Segues with "let it go" too?



    Everything goes

    The story has been revived several times – a farce with stars
    filmed more than once

    illustrates a talent for assuming various disguises
    Banished you say to a time and a place where popular taste

    and lack of imagination are the same thing And not
    how in the hell are we going to end the first act? How here

    and how to get moving the dead weight of it all at all?
    Fallen in love you mistakenly leave behind a quartet

    of sailors Now there will always be a waiting shore for them
    If we are to discuss an impending marriage there is also

    a machine-gun in tow Hope heard it Moon admits it
    and we get to make a new costume out of an assortment of stuff

    the details of which are quite amusing but would be a dead giveaway
    to mention It’s an awkward business and a merger seems as unlikely as

    that bluebird in your wood stove a few years back
    If I try to invent some decent explanation I may be asked to lead

    a revival in the ship’s lounge therefore snake eyes
    and send both factions to the brig or pen instead some Chinese

    characters with a fake beard made of dog’s hair the particulars
    of which have been widely circulated elsewhere

    Even should I glimpse the mysterious girl she will be no doubt
    in the company of her mother and idiot fiancé makes me seasick

    and eager to confess some true identity to any Wall Street broker
    whose indecencies exposed is still idiot enough to listen

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  9. Methinks that madness
    hath no constraint—

    Let that thought loose
    lest the mind feel pain.


    --Saffilis Zaengmac

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  10. Yes, I suppose madness comes to us.
    And about snakes, my sister used to catch snakes, copperheads included. She and my mother were always chiding me for not being willing to give it a try.
    Then one year my sister got a pet boa, and its dinner-mouse ate it. Ugh.
    Sounds like someone's eating popcorn in here, my mother commented.

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  11. TC:

    I wonder at the Wordsworth ... it seems, for himself at least, he got it backwards ...

    Don

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  12. Stanza VII of Wordsworth's poem Resolution and Independence goes like this:

    I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,
    The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride;
    Of Him who walked in glory and in joy
    Following his plough, along the mountain-side:
    By our own spirits are we deified:
    We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
    But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

    The "marvellous Boy" was dead at 17; the ploughman is Robert Burns, dead at 37.

    I don't know how much Joy and Gladness WW himself would go on to experience in old age. Comfort, yes. A post office sinecure, nice. But one suspects the despondent moments crept in every now and again, the morose brown studies.

    But now, Nin's mother -- better than joy and gladness or despondency and madness is good old tough laconic wit.

    Popcorn!

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  13. Despondency and madness ... no wonder I'm so busy doing nothing.

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