The villanelle is a fixed poetic form consisting of nineteen lines. There are five sets of three lines (tercets) ending with a quatrain. There is also a fixed line relationship. The first and third line are repeated and the poem ends with these two lines. The villanelle began as a rustic, pastoral song and dance of peasants and other “outsiders.” The most famous villanelle is Dylan Thomas’ “Do not go gentle into that good night.” After nearly dying out, the villanelle has come back strongly and is popular among contemporary poets and lyricists. One of my favorites, is Frank Scott’s “Villanelle for Our Time,” made famous by Leonard Cohen [His YouTube version can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UzvVOy0Dq8].

My “Villanelle for Ragnarök” is a response to a dream that I initially recorded as a poem I called, “Welcome and toast, $5.99 a cup.” This dream-poem has haunted me as it points to a “final” Ragnarök, an image that becomes more and more compelling each day. Here is the dream-poem.

Welcome and toast, $5.99 a cup

The setting:

An anywhere, everywhere

living room middle crust

at best or no crust at all

The characters:

Strangers all, but known

to me; everyone friendly

not a party, but festal still

The hostess:

Black-gowned but all

eyes on the black earthen

cups, squatting on her tray

The drink:

Black too, Blavod it is

libation for night's time

black clay holding black

The toast

She says it costs $5.99

a cup for this final toast

just drink up and welcome

Ragnarök

The dream tells me that the drink is Blavod. I did not consciously know this name, but in researching it, I discovered that it is black vodka—a triple distilled vodka infused with Catechu, an extract from the heartwood of Burmese catechu acacia trees. In legend, the acacia is associated with a number of Ragnarökean events, such as Noah’s Ark built from acacia wood as the world was engulfed in deluge. In a number of traditions, the acacia plays a crucial role in prophecy. It is often the wood of the “secret of secrets,” hence its use to construct the Ark of the Covenant. The burning bush from which God spoke to Moses, was acacia. So, in toasting the final Ragnarök, drinking vodka infused with burnt acacia feels apposite.

More recently, as part of immersing myself in Ragnarökean reflections, words came and formed themselves in lines and I saw that it was becoming a villanelle. I completed this in what I’ll call a Ragnarökean mood—a mood becoming more common. I may set this to a background beat and give it voice. Here are the words.

Villanelle for Ragnarök

Toasting Ragnarök

Facing full on the ending

Join in or sleepwalk

This is the last shock

We know not what is coming

Toasting Ragnarök

Time has left the clock

Raise your glass, join the singing

Join in or sleepwalk

You miss the sweet talk

That covered over everything

Toasting Ragnarök

No time left to mock

Those who called for the seeing

Join in or sleepwalk

Do you hear the knock?

The Coming Guest is asking

Toasting Ragnarök

Join in or sleepwalk

2017 Reality Parade

They say that three's a crowd, but not at a parade
Fewer floats this year too, serving only Kool-Aid
I hear the truth float didn't qualify, nor did justice
But the lies float is out front, bannered with "trust us"
It’s followed by a bomb float, bedecked in flowers
The third and last float, declaims great powers
It's loaded with women, all number tens
Their pulchritudinous abundance, announcing trends
Not for feeding babes, nor caring for the lame
Every value now trumped, by wealth and fame

They say...

            —make hay while the sun shines

            —money begets money

            —murder will out

            —fight fire with fire

            —only time will tell

            —waste not, want not 

and an endless stream of such

but I say, it's all hearsay.

But Newtruth is coming like a train

Here's a sample for your brain

            —A penny saved is a penny not spent

            —Lie with a smile and beget denial

            —Hack the facts and let the world end

            —Saying so makes it so for any so and so

            —It's always darkest before it gets darker

            —It's never too late to spin a lie

I dare say it's not here say, nor hearsay,

but Newsay, moving along and gathering speed.

On Tuesday, February 28, I went for my scheduled cataract surgery. At the last moment, an administrator came in and announced that the surgery could not proceed because my PCP (Primary Care Provider) had not submitted a physicians' clearance form as the required OK that my health was good enough for the surgery. I had spent a good bit of time and energy getting myself ready for the surgery, so I was upset, to say the least. In fact, I had not been this grumpy for as long as I could remember. It took me a long while to get it all sorted out and rescheduled for the following week. When you are my age, these things can be upsetting in the extreme.

Still, I knew enough from my own work that any "unexpected" or "unintended" consequence must be respected. The ego's natural emotional reactions are never the whole story. Once I calmed down and sorted everything out and came to a better place, the first thing I decided was to not go ahead as if nothing had happened and do my regular things both for Tuesday and for Wednesday. I decided to go ahead and keep my "time out" and to see what sort of things would appear if I didn't over agenda the cleared space. So, I relaxed into this "free" time.

What happened initially was a flood of memories, beginning with a very early memory of having my tonsils out when I was a kid. When I came out of the anesthesia, Dr. Dixon showed me my tonsils. I wanted them. He said no. I kicked his arm and he dropped the specimen jar, the glass breaking. This was followed by a memory of being in the hospital with mastoiditis--a complication of measles. I had taken with me a box of Hershey bars that I had won at a Saturday movie matinee. I put them on top of the radio. Radios in those days were powered by tubes and got hot. My Hershey's melted. This flood of "medical" memories kept going. I noted each one down and then was greeted with several more streams of memories—long since forgotten, but now vividly recalled. This continued the following day as well. It has been quite an extraordinary experience and one I am grateful for in so many ways.

The most stunning result of my reflections was the realization of how invariable my medical experiences have been tied to new ways of doing art. So, as I prepare now for the procedure next Tuesday, I go into the experience with a whole different mental and emotional set than before. This seems like a gift from that work of pursuing something other than the ego's emotional grump.

     Always pay attention to the unexpected and the unintended.

My "Pistachio Owl" ... Pistachio's have been around since 6750 BC. This may be the first image of an owl made from the Pistachio. I've told Mr. Pistachio in our various conversations that he is a culinary nut, not a botanical nut. He's not much interested in bits and pieces from Wikipedia. Since making his image, he has appeared in a number of dreams, always with the feeling of urging me on to something that he seems to know about but I'm a bit slow in getting to it. He's great to have around.

Like

CommentShare

They ask me

Sunday, February 12, 2017

7:32 AM

They ask me why I risk

life and limb or worse

with these people

these people of the street

It is my assignment

I tell them as they look

queerly at me clearly

wondering at my sanity

Most will back away

at this point not waiting

for elaboration or any

answer to their query

But the answer is thus:

years ago a dream voice

said, "Listen to the voiceless

open your eyes to the unseen."

And so I have listened and

and looked, time and time

again and will continue

and what do dreams tell you?

The Cane

Sunday, February 5, 2017

11:43 AM

His cane was not a proper cane

just a stick—well a branch to be

exact, should exactness be

required in such matters.

I learned his name was "Z"

because he was always last

to be chosen or to hear the news.

Last and lost, he repeated, smiling.

What are those notches?

Days when something good happens.

And the bad days?

Man, nothing big enough for that.

Could I try out your memory cane?

No one ever interested before

Feels good, nice heft

I think I'll make me one.

Now that's a good thing

Worth two notches I'd say

Good luck in finding yours

Mr. Z, you are first in my book!

I met him there

there on the sidewalk

sitting against the wall

of the ramshackle bar

Bedraggled one would say

in describing his condition

his weathered cardboard sign

declaring "Anything…God bless"

"You're the dream doc, aren't you?"

he announced, extending his hand

shaking it, I said, "Yes, how did you know?"

"They say you always wear owl shirts."

"Yes, it's true. My totem animal. You have one?"

"What's a totem?" I sat down beside him.

"Well, if you were an animal, what would you be?"

"Hey man, I'm just a bum. They call me Crazy Gus."

"Well, Mr. Crazy Gus, do you dream of any animals?"

"Nah, I can't remember dreams worth shit, no…nothing."

"Wait. Awhile back, months maybe. It was an elephant.

It was standing on its hind legs and it was a funny blue.

Must have been the stuff I was using. Crazy, like they call me."

"OK Gus, for now, your totem is a blue elephant. Name him."

"Max. Just popped in my head when you asked. Max. Yes."

I got up, shook hands, and said, keep Max close. Mr. Gus."