Report #6 - 09 MAR 2009 (Jim Harrison and Flies)

This week's poem is by the poet and novelist Jim Harrison: part Basho, part Bakunin, and part Bukowski. The poem, "North," is from an amazing little book called After Ikkyu and Other Poems. It's a small and powerful Shambala edition of zen-inspired poems.

I've been lucky enough to share a few dinners, several conversations, and many drinks with Jim -- always an inspiring event. Here's an excerpt from an essay I wrote in the summer of '07:

"The full moon has just broken free of the mountain pass at Pine Creek. I finish a beer reclining on the hood of Clyde. He has new-used tires from a junk yard in White Sulphur Springs and feels like a new man, or a new truck anyway. I feel like an old man, and love that feeling.

'So, what do you do, old man?'
'I'm a cloud-watcher.'
'What's that mean?'
'It means I lie on the hood of my truck and watch the clouds.'
'Oh. ... What do you do at night?'
'Watch stars.'

"That full moon now commands my window and makes me wonder what the hell am I doing indoors. ... I will sleep in the hammock tonight, and the moon will whisper dreams in my ear.

"Earlier today, I met Jim Harrison for drinks at the Murray Bar. He goes there because it's one of the few bars in Livingston where you can still smoke. He smokes American Spirit, and for that alone I consider him a good man. But beyond that, he's one of the greatest living American poets. He's good enough to write: 'God is terse. The earth's proper scripture could be carried on a three-by-five card if we weren't drunk on our own blood.' And then on the next page, write: 'I poke my stick in the moon's watery face, then apologize.'

"This is a fragment of our conversation:

"Jim: 'To write a poem requires a state of metaphysical unease. You can't be uptight. You need to be vulnerable. A certain vulnerability, like you kill a fly and then wonder, why did I do that?'
Marc: 'Then you're almost ready to write a poem.'
Jim: 'Right. Almost ready. It's The Fly Test.'

"I tell him of my poem that was inspired by the line in How to Know the American Mammals. -- 'The average size of all living things is a housefly.' He tells me that he has two poems inspired by flies, and now I have to sift through his dozens of books to find those poems. But first, I'll finish this next beer, and then grab a blanket and head out to the hammock and see what the moon has to tell me."

[Jim, if you're reading this, I have bad news for you: The Murray has gone non-smoking. What's left? Maybe the Old Saloon in Emigrant?]

The music featured in this episode is from Yusuf Lateef's 1961 release Eastern Sounds: "Blues for the Orient." It has Lateef on oboe (on other tracks, he plays flute, tenor sax and xun - an ancient instrument also called a "blob flute" by the Easy Guitar Superstars and featured in their seminal hit "Peter Brady"). The other players are Buddy Harris on piano, Ernie Farrow on bass, and Lex Humphries on drums.

Listen to the full episode here:
reportfromthemountains06.mp3