Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Day 10: "Constantly Risking Absurdity" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Lawrence Ferlinghetti was a member of the Beat Generation, who founded the City Lights bookstore which published a lot of early Beat poetry, including the first edition of Allen Ginsberg's Howl and Other Poems. As a poet, Ferlinghetti's collections include A Coney Island of the Mind and Pictures of the Gone World, as well as the poem "Constantly Risking Absurdity". "Constantly Risking Absurdity" uses imagery and eccentric formatting to compare the craft of poetry to acrobatics.

CONSTANTLY RISKING ABSURDITY
Constantly risking absurdity
                                             and death
            whenever he performs
                                        above the heads
                                                            of his audience
   the poet like an acrobat
                                 climbs on rime
                                          to a high wire of his own making
and balancing on eyebeams
                                     above a sea of faces
             paces his way
                               to the other side of day
    performing entrechats
                               and sleight-of-foot tricks
and other high theatrics
                               and all without mistaking
                     any thing
                               for what it may not be


       For he's the super realist
                                     who must perforce perceive
                   taut truth
                                 before the taking of each stance or step
in his supposed advance
                                  toward that still higher perch
where Beauty stands and waits
                                     with gravity
                                                to start her death-defying leap


      And he
             a little charleychaplin man
                                           who may or may not catch
               her fair eternal form
                                     spreadeagled in the empty air
                  of existence

Tomorrow: Pablo Neruda.

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