Jon Orsi-- Tyger by the Tale

Reading John Nay’s poetry has further solidified and understanding of the way we are, that for long years I have come to accept. The central idea is that of the two way ladder, while we descend, we simultaneously ascend-the action being entirely independent or unintentional of the outcome, yet the outcome is a direct product of the action.

What epitomized this for me in John’s poetry was through his descent of the ages—gold to iron—the poetics took off in unbound flight. With his closing stanza being a saturation of understanding. And only through the full conceptualization and experience of decline can one see, wholly, the image of the poem/life/world (considerably synonyms).  After complete decay comes rebirth, phoenix like—more brilliant in its second coming, and more radiant by its contrast to the bleakness of its present context.
The idea though, is that the composition of the poem  or any poem for that matter is an act of creation. And as the poem itself is completed upon the conclusion, its birth is present in the moment of death- and this cycle begets itself. It may also beget new understanding away from itself. Poetics, mythos, logos- may all serve as catalyst for those exposed. This effect on future generations may be unseen or unnoticed, but it may too serve as a moment of great awakening.

 These epiphanic happenings may serve as the flood--in all its occurrences-- to cleanse, to unveil, to enlighten.

as with Nay's poem, and  Ovid's, and the Bible... flood flows forth on unclean grounds. In these dystopic visions, the world* shattered by understanding, by the poetic. It is a barbaric yawp that awakens the sleeping. It unclouds the eyes.

As in Steven’s Poem Disillusionment of Ten O’clock  -from my newly acquired collected poems (thank you Vargos- support your local bookstore) – the beauty of the world is reserved for those free of illusion, but the illusion is not the dream, rather the absence of dream. The illusion is the limitations of life that we subscribe to, that we-unable to see beyond, are limited to.

Disillusionment of Ten O'Clock 

The houses are haunted

By white night-gowns.

None are green,

Or purple with green rings,

Or green with yellow rings,

Or yellow with blue rings.

None of them are strange,

With socks of lace

And beaded ceintures.

People are not going

To dream of baboons and periwinkles.

Only, here and there, an old sailor,

Drunk and asleep in his boots,

Catches Tigers

In red weather. 

The absurdity is not catching tigers, or technicolored nightgown schemes. But, rather the absurdity is the formula of white- nightgowns, the absurdity of life devoid of absurd possibilities.

Subjected to limitations of any age, or anything for that matter our world becomes limited. In one of Dustin’s blogs he speaks about “the gaze” Rather than paraphrase or misinterpreted what Dustin put most eloquently, I will instead give a piece of what he as written “To gaze upon something is not to open oneself to it, but to impose an organizational structure upon it: the gaze makes sense rather than receiving it.”

Perhaps my even mentioning of this blog, Johns blog, or my even mentioning at all is an act of futility because I am imposing structure, but I am trying to receive.
But, my point is with John’s or Ovid full realization or omnipotence over the ages and over himself he has become free from the boundaries of ages or self.

There is a great Blake quote I often turn to because it provides me solace and inspiration.

"If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern."

This is a passage from his work The Marriage of Heaven and Hell which too, works along the two way ladder. For he envisioned a world inverted since the fall of man, the only way up is down.

And if we descend down into our subconscious level, the shared consciousness of the world. A world dictated by archetypes, we may find our lives too, dictated.  There are happening at bay that are out of our control, out of our consciousness even. But if we understand that these are all threads of the web of the collective,if we understand and become familiar with the subconscious, the archetypes of our lives, the mythic tradition of the world, then perhaps we may become masters of that world. We may become the artificer, or we may finally realize that we have been all along.