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Gary Snyder Online Poems Essay Research Paper

Gary Snyder: Online Poems Essay, Research Paper


How Poetry Comes to Me


It comes blundering over the


Boulders at night, it stays


Frightened outside the


Range of my campfire


I go to meet it at the


Edge of the light


Online


Source


For All


Ah to be alive


on a mid-September morn


fording a stream


barefoot, pants rolled up,


holding boots, pack on,


sunshine, ice in the shallows,


northern rockies.


Rustle and shimmer of icy creek waters


stones turn underfoot, small and hard as toes


cold nose dripping


singing inside


creek music, heart music,


smell of sun on gravel.


I pledge allegiance


I pledge allegiance to the soil


of Turtle Island,


and to the beings who thereon dwell


one ecosystem


in diversity


under the sun


With joyful interpenetration for all.


Online


Source


On Top


All this new stuff goes on top


turn it over, turn it over


wait and water down


from the dark bottom


turn it inside out


let it spread through


Sift down even.


Watch it sprout.


A mind like compost.


Online


Source


Hay for the Horses


He had driven half the night


From far down San Joaquin


Through Mariposa, up the


Dangerous Mountain roads,


And pulled in at eight a.m.


With his big truckload of hay


behind the barn.


With winch and ropes and hooks


We stacked the bales up clean


To splintery redwood rafters


High in the dark, flecks of alfalfa


Whirling through shingle-cracks of light,


Itch of haydust in the


sweaty shirt and shoes.


At lunchtime under Black oak


Out in the hot corral,


—The old mare nosing lunchpails,


Grasshoppers crackling in the weeds—


"I’m sixty-eight" he said,


"I first bucked hay when I was seventeen.


I thought, that day I started,


I sure would hate to do this all my life.


And dammit, that’s just what


I’ve gone and done."


From Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems by Gary Snyder, published by North Point


Press. Copyright ? 1958,


1959, 1965 Gary Snyder. Online Source


Old Bones


Out there walking round, looking out for food,


a rootstock, a birdcall, a seed that you can crack


plucking, digging, snaring, snagging,


barely getting by,


no food out there on dusty slopes of scree—


carry some—look for some,


go for a hungry dream.


Deer bone, Dall sheep,


bones hunger home.


Out there somewhere


a shrine for the old ones,


the dust of the old bones,


old songs and tales.


What we ate—who ate what—


how we all prevailed.


from Mountains and Rivers Without End, published by Counterpoint Press, 1996. Online Source


Kisiabaton


Beat-up datsun idling in the road


shreds of fog


almost-vertical hillsides drop away


huge stumps fading into mist


soft warm rain


Snaggy, forked and spreading tops, a temperate cloud-forest tree


Chamaecyparis formosiana–


Taiwan hinoki,


hung-kuai red cypress


That the tribal people call kisiabaton


this rare old tree


is what we came to see.


from No Nature by Gary Snyder. Copyright? 1992 by Gary Snyder. Online


Source


At Tower Peak


Every tan rolling meadow will turn into housing


Freeways are clogged all day


Academies packed with scholars writing papers


City people lean and dark


This land most real


As its western-tending golden slopes


And bird-entangled central valley swamps


Sea-lion, urchin coasts


Southerly salmon-probes


Into the aromatic almost-Mexican hills


Along a range of granite peaks


The names forgotten,


An eastward running river that ends out in desert


The chipping ground-squirrels in the tumbled blocks


The gloss of glacier ghost on slab


Where we wake refreshed from ten hours sleep


After a long day’s walking


Packing burdens to the snow


Wake to the same old world of no names,


No things, new as ever, rock and water,


Cool dawn birdcalls, high jet contrails.


A day or two or million, breathing


A few steps back from what goes down


In the current realm.


A kind of ice age, spreading, filling valleys


Shaving soils, paving fields, you can walk in it


Live in it, drive through it then


It melts away


For whatever sprouts


After the age of


Frozen hearts. Flesh-carved rock


And gusts on the summit,


Smoke from forest fires is white,


The haze above the distant va

lley like a dusk.


It’s just one world, this spine of rock and streams


And snow, and the wash of gravels, silts


Sands, bunchgrasses, saltbrush, bee-fields,


Twenty million human people, downstream, here below.


from No Nature by Gary Snyder. Copyright? 1992 by Gary Snyder. Online


Source


Smokey the Bear Sutra


Once in the Jurassic about 150 million years ago,


the Great Sun Buddha in this corner of the Infinite


Void gave a Discourse to all the assembled elements


and energies: to the standing beings, the walking beings,


the flying beings, and the sitting beings — even grasses,


to the number of thirteen billion, each one born from a


seed, assembled there: a Discourse concerning


Enlightenment on the planet Earth.


"In some future time, there will be a continent called


America. It will have great centers of power called


such as Pyramid Lake, Walden Pond, Mt. Rainier, Big Sur,


Everglades, and so forth; and powerful nerves and channels


such as Columbia River, Mississippi River, and Grand Canyon


The human race in that era will get into troubles all over


its head, and practically wreck everything in spite of


its own strong intelligent Buddha-nature."


"The twisting strata of the great mountains and the pulsings


of volcanoes are my love burning deep in the earth.


My obstinate compassion is schist and basalt and


granite, to be mountains, to bring down the rain. In that


future American Era I shall enter a new form; to cure


the world of loveless knowledge that seeks with blind hunger:


and mindless rage eating food that will not fill it."


And he showed himself in his true form of


SMOKEY THE BEAR


A handsome smokey-colored brown bear standing on his hind legs, showing


that he is aroused and


watchful.


Bearing in his right paw the Shovel that digs to the truth beneath


appearances; cuts the roots of useless


attach- ments, and flings damp sand on the fires of greed and war;


His left paw in the Mudra of Comradely Display — indicating that all


creatures have the full right to live to


their limits and that deer, rabbits, chipmunks, snakes, dandelions, and lizards all grow


in the realm of the


Dharma;


Wearing the blue work overalls symbolic of slaves and laborers, the


countless men oppressed by a


civilization that claims to save but often destroys;


Wearing the broad-brimmed hat of the West, symbolic of the forces that


guard the Wilderness, which is the


Natural State of the Dharma and the True Path of man on earth: all true paths lead through


mountains —


With a halo of smoke and flame behind, the forest fires of the


kali-yuga, fires caused by the stupidity of


those who think things can be gained and lost whereas in truth all is contained vast and


free in the Blue Sky


and Green Earth of One Mind;


Round-bellied to show his kind nature and that the great earth has food


enough for everyone who loves her


and trusts her;


Trampling underfoot wasteful freeways and needless suburbs; smashing the


worms of capitalism and


totalitarianism;


Indicating the Task: his followers, becoming free of cars, houses,


canned foods, universities, and shoes;


master the Three Mysteries of their own Body, Speech, and Mind; and fearlessly chop down


the rotten


trees and prune out the sick limbs of this country America and then burn the leftover


trash.


Wrathful but Calm. Austere but Comic. Smokey the Bear will


Illuminate those who would help him; but for those who would hinder or


slander him,


HE WILL PUT THEM OUT.


Thus his great Mantra:


Namah samanta vajranam chanda maharoshana


Sphataya hum traks ham nam


"I DEDICATE MYSELF TO THE UNIVERSAL DIAMOND


BE THIS RAGING FURY DESTROYED"


And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,


Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick


people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children:


And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution, television,


or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR’S WAR SPELL:


DROWN THEIR BUTTS


CRUSH THEIR BUTTS


DROWN THEIR BUTTS


CRUSH THEIR BUTTS


And SMOKEY THE BEAR will surely appear to put the enemy out


with his vajra-shovel.


Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice willl


accumulate merit as countless as the


sands of Arizona and Nevada.


Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick.


Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature.


Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts.


Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot under a pine


tree to sit at.


AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT.


thus have we heard.


(may be reproduced free forever)

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