In addition to my spoken prologue on the video, I should add that this type of verse in my general oeuvre, owes a great deal to my early absorption in the vision of the German poet Holderlin and in the sort of approach typified by him. Music above content; but music of a peculiarly and intensely abstract variety: that sounds paradoxical, as it must be. There is a sort of verbal striving that attempts to break through the barriers into another and possibly coterminous universe of speech. I can explain this (a bit!) only by pointing to the work of Bach and the later works of Beethoven. It is something which can only be experienced and hardly ever explained, as this ludicrous foreword aptly illustrates! I hope the feeling generated by the poem is sufficient to render this foreword (and the spoken one) redundant!


Extension

How deep are these foundations? And how sure
the underlying bedrock? Permeable
soil is fine for roots - these first green shoots
will flourish there. The edifice requires
upholding strength. How soon before
such playfulness need cease, less fullblown passion
overflow its bound? The countryside
is quiet; the warm air still. What we feel
is under lock and key - momentarily.
The scent of perfumed bodies much outglows
pink petals of the intertwining rose.
Sculpture, poetry, music fused together
inhabit this one body. Sense of touch
is beauty miles beyond the mind's control,
overspilling into empty space.
Unspoken acquiescence, full consent
of eye and lip and limb. Curling hair,
touched by these summer breezes, is one chord
of the symphony we create; tonality
extraterrestrial in scope; in content
fire, unconsuming, clear, cleansing
without burning. Cleave together then,
devoid of cleaving's separation, joined
in mutual ecstacy of longing; tenderness
unlimited by time, consummation
unfinalised, unpeaked. Full noon of day
where time and day and sun are without end.
Into such transcendence we ascend. (less info)