PREVIOUS NEXT FIRST ODE To The Present Generation, Out of the pool of Time we brought...


To The Present Generation 77
da Vinci's Ginevra de 'Benci
Out of the pool of Time we brought
the scowling Monument:

It had effectively fought
the ages' scouring Argument

& survived ... And not because it had
Truth, Beauty or Such on its side

but that it was clad
in The Future's hide


... You're only young Once
but you are Old all the time

and, friend, this is the Song of
The Ultimate Generation! ( No doubt

written for the One after that One)

without end or reason if there's enough ROOM
someone always comes by breathing the nuances of

his own boundless Grief, which settles
an infinite stone upon the bottomless
sands you can see're so damn clean all the way to

Depths of almost (a Sea, th'profoundest almost)
a World almost a Cosmos almost too much for

fathoming IF there is sufficient room so
Soul's long Waste of entrances is never denied
One Final & yet Glorious Admission where the
Horizon marks the limits of Sufficiency

One is surprised inside The Burning Bell of

things coming along too well --As it stops cold
to toll the cracking journey of an

artificial Wing's (yet all too mortal) negative

flap mixing up a beautiful mental formula
pharmaceutically & incidentally, let me

add this (a fact well known by fools,
cretins & imbeciles
): "It was the evolution of their
earth that changed their land," that (nothing

justifies Power better than the power to justify
it) --Check it out! & incidentally, let me

just add this, Why is the Pentagon in the shape
of a nut? Do you know &

&  do you know & do you

ever even give it a thought? I mean, old boy,
six million Jews all baked in a pyre
& not a single tear from a goy! ( O, and

what you're looking for is Always
(in the last place you look)

let me add this --Mixing it up (a beautifully
pharmaceutical formula): Had Christ hailed

from Bristol, His magic spell for resurrecting
Lazarus might've been You better get up
old boy, or they'll plug you!...
) so nothing

surprises me, not even that people who do not
even know how cardboard's made can tell you

what's God! --Let nothing surprise you & in-
cidentally, let me just add this: In the Image
of God
comes that cookie, O Man! to state:

"He had His Sodom & Gomorrah & we have our
Hiroshima & Nagasaki" In the Image of God

& incidentally, let me just add this: Which came
first, the chicken or the egg? mixing up a

beautiful formula pharmaceutically which finally
blows up in our face because we've added too many

distractions... Abandoned to the full consent of Th'Many
one folds upon oneself the grim position of restraint

amongst th'criers who seek the freedom to silence us all
... and what moves us towards Hell is but the similarity
of its walls to Heaven's (from the outside): keep in mind

that it's as hard to get out of Hell as to enter
into Heaven--While a dim memory supplants the

scalding Actuality & dead cinders
our former tears become words windstrewn

& dryly reminding us of Whom we have been
The Many and Why! Look now!!! (Things say wordlessly)

for just how brief an instant does life crack

The Mirror of Existence so completely encircling
& surrounding us, shrouding us, blockading us,
enveloping us & encircling & besieging us,
defining us, delimiting us

          ... so Now: Hurry! and
Hurry! Hurry! Look NOW beyond Yourself
& now! Do! Right now! right straightaway!

Existence patches itself up
soon enough! ...     

                               I looked:             It was

                            (& let                 The A w a k e n i n g !
                          me just               of life-Spring! its Gush
                          add this:             captured jessamine guarded
                          If cocks              in a harbor's pardon
                          never had           & the apothecary priest O
                          any hayre           cautionary sparrow Sunshine!
                          how come          then DETONATED!!! Dawn's
                          God gave           erratic plans of splattering
                          every                 wavelets & the pizzicati
                          last one              dews the blazon-Birds praised
                          of'em a               Praised! the Winds where the
                          comb?...             unsteady & wretched hedgerows
                          of cour-             Burst! joyously apart into th'weeds O
                          se only               Song! the herdsmen-mountains
                          pharma-            drank peacocks the milks of
                          ceutic-               Morning whilst dissipating mists
                          ally speak-         of rapidly-disintegrating
                          ing you              fleece (Darkness) shrieked over
                          understand)       the antlers of The Hills

And, "This is The Song of The Ultimate Generation,
friend, and" ... Eye must peer into The Door

ajar & check HOW NEAR to understand HOW FAR

--In other words, the difference between The Real
and The Symbolic is only a technicality, you know:

Matter understands the difference soon enough
but in The Human Mind the difference is a little hazy,
I mean, and if The Government's going around saying
"all the jews must be done away with,"
Jews certainly better start feeling a bit uneasy

even if no Jews have as yet been gassed--Because in
the Human Mind the difference between The Real

The Symbolic is only an infinite stone settling
to the bottomless sands of Almost [and Almost and

Almost] the sounds of Wings silent awakening
Solitude from its Slumber, & sad & angered at

thusly having been disturbed (for Nothing, Solitude's
liable to throw a brick) at the merest "suggestions of

Wings" silent & let me just add this (incidentally):

entire companies of soldiers have given up their lives
O, so heroically (of course) trying to rescue a
twenty-bucks banner from the enemy & this is

something they would not risk the whole company to try
[to rescue but a single sacred human life (naturally)

otherwise The Whole POEM might just go KABOOM!

right in our faces], incidentally, while we are trying
ever so desperately & if possible: even cautiously

mixing up a beautiful formula pharmaceutically (of
bloods & clay) that we can bring out of the muddy

pool of Time like some Monument O life, O life, O life,

O life! that highlights all our Good by
enveloping in such Dark--This is The Song of The
Ultimate Generation, friend,

Only moments remain!
Everything shakes with Awe!

All of The Good of earth we saw
by Evil was explained!

Flowers for miles perish! in flames!
[And] All crimes reign sublime!

[But] Sympathy is the fancy of its fame
and Justice is the privilege of Time

But Sympathy's
th'fancy of its fame

and Justice is
the privilege of Time

of Time
Raphael's St. George Fighting The Dragon

^{77} The distinct elements melding together here: The archeological find (the fundamental metaphor) is being translated; while the translator's subconscious keeps up a running [processing function] in which past, present, and future (history, reality... imaginative experiences) are being modified & called on to help understand/accept the information it is uncovering (the overall metaphor).

Finally: we get an instantaneous [results] throughout of this whole

operation. 1: What it says. 2: What it means. 3: How it's relevant.
(Although how it's relevant is a part & function of what it means.)@