BIG SUR 199
and worn, aright—
Arra! Aroo!
Ger der va—
Silly silent cities in the sea
have children playing cardboard
mush with eignyard old Englander
beeplates slickered oer with scum
of histories below—
No tempest as still & awful
as the tempest within—
Sorcerer hip! Buddhalands
& Buddhaseas!
What sails Maudgalyayana used
he only knows to tell
but got kilt by yellers
sreaming down the cliff
“Let’s go home!
Now!”
—leave marge smashed djamas
Maudgalyayana was murdered by the sea—
But the sea dont tell—
The sea dont murder—
The seadrang scholars
oughter know that
or
go back to School
Hear over there the ocean motor?
Feel the splawrsh of it?
Six silly centepedes here, Machree—
Ah Ratatatatatat—
the machinegun sea, rhythmic
balls of you pouring in
with smooth eglantinee
in yr pedigreed milkpup
tenor—
Tinder marsh aright arrooo—
arrac’h—arrache—
Kamac’h—monarc’h—
Kerarc’h Jevac’h—
