Saturday, April 23, 2011

Richard Eberhart (1959 - 1961)

Sanders Theater
Shall man destroy the face of earth, 
By universal hatred bomb himself to death, 
Shall he still lust, erect evil 
And shall madness overwhelm our reason? 

I see space travel as instinctive will 
To solve our unredeemed problems in the heavens 
As if man were reborn again as a child 
To the limitless delights of the imagination. 
      In the old poem the cow jumped over the moon, 
      We plan with luck to hit it on the nose, 

And go off on further sidereal exploits 
To escape the confines of the population explosion, 
For surely if we cannot stand up on the earth 
Some mutation will provide heavenly exodus 
      And we shall be as we have never been, 
      Things will not be, as always, what they seem. 

But new. How shall I make a mythology 
Of our gross and stubborn naturalism? 
What words are there for our new energies, 
And how shall we speak to the generations of the young? 
      Shall we say science is a fairest flower 
      In the gardens of our incontestable ecstasies?

How shall we use a computer mind, how ever, 
To walk in the comprehension of the intellect? 
Do I have to be ravished by the psychedelic? 
Do I have to pray that I shall be undone? 

When to the powers of song spirit speaks 
There is a source of spiritual unison 
Which links the songs of the centuries 
To the anguish of the individual heart. 
      The tides coming in and going out 
      Are mysteries to the subtle understanding. 

I prostrate myself before the old mythologies, 
Believe not one of them, and demand a myth 
Of the original spirit of the American ego, 
A world-poetry of the international psyche. 
      I call for the love of man in every man 
      Brotherhood from Iceland to Dar-es-Salaam. 

I call for passionate love and passionate care, 
For lack of violence and for love of peace, 
For love of poetry as inner being, 
And for freedom as inviolable need. 
      In poetry of the innermost heart 
      Of instinctual life shall be the spirit of freedom. 

I shall believe that man will exceed himself. 
What future will arise centuries hence? 
Shall man stand, as in the tarpits of Los Angeles, 
As a lost animal among the galaxies? 

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