pedigree, we’ve sunk more boats
than dreamer’ll ever ever see
—Burning—Burning—The world
is burning & needs waaater
—I’ll have a daughter,
oughter, wait & seee—
Churning, Churning, Me—
Panties—Panties—
these ancient fancies are
so girling—You’ve not seen
mermaids in my actual sea
—You’ve not seen sexless babies
with breasts of Majesty—
My wife—My wife—
Her name is Oh so really
high life
The low life Kingdom where
we part out tea, is sea
side Me—
Josh—coof—patra—
Aye ee mo powsh—
Ssst—Cum here read me—
Dirty postcard—Urchin sea—
Karash your name—?
Wanta swim, sink or swim?
Ears ringing again?
Sea vibrate rhythm
crash sets off cave
hanger blowers whistling
dog ear back—to sea—
Arree—
Gerudge Napoleon nada—
Nada
Pluto eats the sea—
Room—
Hands folded by the sea—
“On est toutes cachez, mange
le silence,” dit les poissons de la
mer—Ah Mar—Gott—
Thalatta—Merde—Marde
de mer—Mu mer—Mak a vash—
The ocean is the mother—
Je ne suis pas mauvaise quand j’sui
tranquil—dans les tempêtes
j’cri! Come une folle!
j’mange, j’arrache toutes!
Clock—Clack—Milk—
Mai! mai! mai! ma!
says the wind blowing sand—
Pluto eats the sea—
Ami go—da—che pop
Go—Come—Cark—
Care—Kee ter da vo
Kataketa pow! Kek kek kek!
Kwakiutl! Kik!
Some of theserather taratasters
trapped hyra tchere thaped
the anadondak ram ma lat
round by Krul to Pat the lat
rat the anaakakalked
romon tottek
Kara VOOOM
frup—
Feet cold? wade—Mind sore?
sim—sin—Horny?—lay the sea?
Corny? try me—
Ussens here hang no more
here we go, ka va ra ta
plowsh, shhh,
and more, again, ke vlook
ke bloom & here comes
big Mister Trosh
—more waves coming,
every syllable windy
Back wash palaver
paralarle—paralleling
parle pe Saviour
A troublesome spirit
hanging here cant make it
in the void—The sea’ll
only drown me—These words
are affectations
of sick mortality—
We try to make our way
in self reliance, aid
not ever comes too quick
from wherever & whatever
heaven dear may have
suggested to promise us—
But these waves scare me—
I am going to die
in full despair—
Wake up where?
On second breath in life
the atmosphere is dearer
maybe closer to Heaven
—O Paradise—
Is the sea really so bad?
Have you sent men
here for this cold clown
& monstrous eater at the
world? whose sound
I mock?
God I’ve got to believe in you
or live in death!
Will you save us—all?
Soon or now?
Send illumination
to our drowning brains
—We’re pitiful, Lord,
we need yr help!
Save us, Dear—
(Save yourself, God man,
ha ha!)
If you were God man
you’d command these waves
to very well Tennyson stop
& even Tennyson
is dear
now dead
Leave it to the light
Concern yourself with supper,
& an eye
somebody’s eye—a wife,
a girl, a friend, an animal
—a blood let drop—
he for his sea,
he for his fire,
thee for thy desire
“The sea drove me away
& yelled ‘Go to your desire!’
—As I hurried up the valley
It added one last yell:-
‘And laugh!’”
Even the sea cant stop me from
writing something to read in my old age
—This is the chart of brief forms,
this sea the briefest—Shish yourself—
After scaring me like that, Mar,
I’ll excoriate yr slum—yr
iodine weeds & slime hoops,
even yr dried hollow seaweed
stinks—you stink all over—
Boom—Try that, creep—
The little Monterey fishingboat
glides downward home 15 miles to go,
be home to fried fish & beer b’five—
It guides the sea its bird routes—
—Silver loss forever outward
—From blue sky of human bridges
to the massive mawkcloud sea center
heap—to the gray—
Some boys call it gunboat blue,
or gray, but I call it
the Civil War of Rocks
—Rocks ‘come air, rocks ‘come water,
& rock rocks—
Kara tavira, mnash grand bash
—poosh l’abas—croosh
L’a haut—Plash au pied—
Peeeee—Rolle test boulles—
Manche d’la rache—
The handsome King prevails
over boom sing bird head—
“Crache tes idées,” spit yr ideas,
says the sea, to me, quite
appro priate ly—
Pss! pss! pss!
Ps! girl inside!
Red shoes scum, eyes of old
sorcerers, toenails hanging down
in the barrel of old firkin cheese
the Dutchman forgot t’eat that
tempest
nineteen O
sixteen—
When torpedoed by gunboat
Pedro in the Valley
of a Million Fees?
When Magellan crosseyed
ate the Amazonian feet—
And, Ah, when Colombo cross’t!
When Drake sir francised the waves
with feeding of the blue jay
dark—pounded his aleward
tank before the boom,
housed up all thoughts of Erik
the Red the Greenland caperer
& builder of rockdungs in New
Port—New—yet—
>
Oldport Indian Fishhead—
Oldport Tattoo Kwakiutl Headpost
taboo potash Coyotl potlatch?
Old Primitive Columbia.—
Named for Colom bus?
Name for Aruggio Vesmarica—
Ar!—Or!—Da!
What about Verrazano?
he sailed!—
He Verrazano zailed & we
statened his Island in on deep
in on dashun—
Rotted the Wallower?
Sinners liars goodmen all
sink waterswim drink Neptune’s
nectar the zal sotat—
Zal sotate name for crota?
Crota ta crotte, you aint
’bout to find (Jesus Christian!)
any dry turds here below—
Why fo no?
Go crash yonder rock
of bleak with yr filet mignon teeth
& see—For you, the hearth,
the heart, the lock of hair—
For me, for us, the Sea,
the murdering of time by eating
lusty cracks of lip feed wave
at aeons of sandy artistry
till nothing’s left but old age
newmorning primordial pain
of sitters by
the unborn
bird
of roses yet undone—
With weeds your roses,
sand crabs your hummers?
With buzzers in the sea!
With runners in the deep!
This Sceptred Osh, this wide leg
spanning rock U.S. to rock
Ja Pan, this onstable
roller roaming all,
this ploosher at yr gory
dry dung door, this mouth
of silverwhite arring to hold thee,
this purger of conscience
arra for thee—
No mouse in here but’s got
a little glee—and
aft, or oft, the osprey
in his glee’s agley—
Oh purty purty ocean
me—
Sop! bring the Scepter down!
Again you’ve accepted me!
Breathe our iodine, filthy yr drink,
faint at feet wet, drop
yr profile move it in the sea,
float weeded watery Adonais
longs for thee—& Shelley three,
that’s three—burn in salt
with slow most change—
We’ve had no crack at eternity
in a billion years of trying—
one grain of sand possesses
3 thousand worlds of glee—
not to mention me—
Ah sea
Ah si—Ah so—
shoot—shiver—mix—
ha roll—tara—ta ta—
curlurck—Kayash—Kee—
Pearls pearls in the yellow West
—Yellow sky to China—
Pacific we named here
water as always meeting
water—Pacific Pacific
Pacific tapfic—geroom—
gedowsh—gaka—gaya—
Tatha—gata—mana—
What sails used old bhikkus?
Dhikkus? Dhikkus!
What raft mailed Mose
to the hoven dovepost?
What saved Blackswirl
from the Kidd plank?
What Go-Bug here?
Seet! Seeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeee—kara—
Pounders out yar—
Big Sur they call this sand
these rocks this creek?
Raton Canyon by name pours
Coyote leaves & old Pomo bones
& old dust of Tomahawks
into your angler’d maw—
My salt maw shall salvage
Taylors—sewing in the room
below—
Sewing weed shrat for hikers
in the milky silt—
Sewing crosswards
for certainty—Sartan
are we of Price Victory
in this salt War with thee
& thine thee jellied yink!
Look O the sea here called
Pacific Sea!
Taki!
My golden empty soul’ll
outlast yr salty sill
—the Windows of my jelly eye
& fish head muck look out on thee,
slit, with cigar-a-mouth,
some contempt—
Yet I hie me to see you
—you hie thee to eat
me—Fair in sight
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—
Tamana—gavow—
Va—Voovla—Via—
Mia—mine—
sea
poo
Farewell, Sur—
Didja ever tell him
about water meeting water—?
O go back to otter—
Term—Term—Klerm
Kerm—Kurn—Cow—Kow—
Cash—Cac’h—Cluck—
Clock—Gomeat sea need
be deep I see you
Enoc’h
soon anarf
in Old Brittany
21 August 1960
Pacific Ocean at Big Sur
California
• • •
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1 The complete poems written by the sea are to be found at the end of this book, in the appendix, entitled “SEA”: Sounds of the Pacific Ocean at Big Sur. JK
Jack Kerouac, Big Sur
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