Passion

One Hour To Madness And Joy

One hour to madness and joy!
O furious! O confine me not!
(What is this that frees me so in storms?
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)

O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man!
O savage and tender achings!
(I bequeath them to you, my children,
I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)

O to be yielded to you, whoever you are, and you to be yielded to me, in defiance of the world!
O to return to Paradise! O bashful and feminine!
O to draw you to me—to plant on you for the first time the lips of a determin’d man!

O the puzzle—the thrice-tied knot—the deep and dark pool! O all untied and illumin’d!
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!
O to be absolv’d from previous ties and conventions—I from mine, and you from yours!
O to find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of nature!
O to have the gag remov’d from one’s mouth!
O to have the feeling, to-day or any day, I am sufficient as I am!

O something unprov’d! something in a trance!
O madness amorous! O trembling!
O to escape utterly from others’ anchors and holds!
To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and dangerous!
To court destruction with taunts—with invitations!
To ascend—to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me!
To rise thither with my inebriate Soul!
To be lost, if it must be so!
To feed the remainder of life with one hour of fulness and freedom!
With one brief hour of madness and joy.

Walt Whitman, 1860

I am not so sure one can feed the remainder of life with just one brief hour of madness and joy. I think it much more likely that, having climbed those heights once, one's instinct is to want to climb them again and again. And if those heights are forbidden besides, well, so much more the pull to them. I imagine it would be easy to fall into a trap that way, always looking for that same thrill and never finding it. And in the constant search, I also imagine it would be easy to overlook a different kind of joy. Maybe less madness to it, but that doesn't mean it can't be just as fulfilling. There is much to be said for the slowly accumulating joy of tiny little moments of everyday kindnesses and shared laughter and comforts of familiarity.

The truth is that, as we move through life and find each other, we gather more and more ties and lose more and more freedom. Sometimes it happens slowly, almost imperceptibly, other times we choose the ties deliberately and publicly. And while there is intoxication in the thought of breaking free from all those ties at times, I imagine regret would follow such an action. And surely that regret would, in time, overshadow the joy of the moment.

All that aside, reading this poem, don't you just want to jump off that cliff anyway?

Electricity

you
heart pure and raw
you say
high voltage pumping desire
you say you
to your limbs, your fingers electric
you say you ache
our embrace
you say you ache for me
a closed circuit

Kirsten Larsen, 2008


What is the electricity of pure desire worth? If you know, through experience, that it will lead to disaster in the end, do you still plunge forward, for the sake of the jolt of the joining? Can you ignore the warnings your head screams at you and listen instead to the blood rushing through your veins? Can either be trusted? Does it make a difference if you fall into a pit because you didn't see it or if you jump into it with your eyes wide open?

Still Seduced

Lady Midnight

I came by myself to a very crowded place;
I was looking for someone who had lines in her face.
I found her there but she was past all concern;
I asked her to hold me, I said, "lady, unfold me,"
But she scorned me and she told me
I was dead and I could never return.

Well, I argued all night like so many have before,
Saying, "Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more."
Then she pointed at me where I kneeled on her floor,
She said, "Don’t try to use me or slyly refuse me,
Just win me or lose me,
It is this that the darkness is for."

I cried, "Oh, lady midnight, I fear that you grow old,
The stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold."
"If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
So I walked through the morning, sweet early morning,
I could hear my lady calling,
"You’ve won me, you’ve won me, my lord"

Leonard Cohen, 1968

Still obsessing, slightly. I love the imagery here, especially the stars eat your body. Pure poetry.

Discovery

Take This Longing

Many men have loved the bells
you fastened to the rein,
and everyone who wanted you
they found what they will always want again.
Your beauty lost to you yourself
just as it was lost to them.
Oh take this longing from my tongue,
whatever useless things these hands have done.
Let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love.

Your body like a searchlight
my poverty revealed,
I would like to try your charity until you cry,
"Now you must try my greed."
And everything depends upon
how near you sleep to me
Just take this longing from my tongue
all the lonely things my hands have done.
Let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love.

Hungry as an archway
through which the troops have passed,
I stand in ruins behind you,
with your winter clothes,
your broken sandal straps.
I love to see you naked over there
especially from the back.

Oh take this longing from my tongue,
all the useless things my hands have done,
untie for me your hired blue gown,
like you would do for one that you love.

You're faithful to the better man,
I'm afraid that he left.
So let me judge your love affair
in this very room where I have sentenced
mine to death.
I'll even wear these old laurel leaves
that he's shaken from his head.

Just take this longing from my tongue,
all the useless things my hands have done,
let me see your beauty broken down,
like you would do for one you love.

Like you would do for one you love

Leonard Cohen, 1974

I have a tendency, when discovering a new author or poet, to immerse myself, to the point of near-obsession. Leonard Cohen, songwriter and singer, had escaped my notice until a few months ago, when lizarddrinking posted a song of his on her blog. I was mildly intrigued, but did not follow up. Then, a few weeks later, he cropped up again, mentioned by another friend, as the writer for the sublime song Hallelujah. I was seduced by the longing and emotion of the song, and had to check out the original. And so I was hooked. Now, a few weeks later, his songs are still haunting me. In general, they are sparse and straightforward, and his singing is almost deadpan and unmelodic, but the emotion in the lyrics draws me in further and further. Love and longing, bitterness and joy, whimsy and anger--they are all there and more. It would be impossible to pick a favorite, but Take This Longing is certainly in the running. It has been quite a while since I was so taken by music, and I am enjoying giving in to the seduction.