Page:Big Sur (1963).djvu/198

188BIG SUR

No Monarch ever Irish be?
Ju see the Irish sea?
Green winds on tamarack vines—
Joyce—James—Shhish—
Sea——Sssssss—see
———Varash
———mnavash la vache
écriture—the sea dont say
muc’h actually—

Gosh, she,
huzzy, tow, led men
on, Ulysses and all them
fair headed moin—
Terplash, & what difference
make! One little white
spark of light!
Hair woven hands
Penelope seaboat
smeller—Courtiers in
Telemachus ’sguise
dropedary dropedary
creep—Or—
Franc gold rippled
that undersea creek
where fish fish for
fisher men—Salteen
breen the wet Souwesters
of old Portugee Prayers

Tsall tangled, changed,
salt & drop the sand
& weed & water brains
entangled—Rats
of old Venetian yellers
Ariel Calibanned
to Roma Port—
Pow—spell—
Speak you parler,
in this my mother’s