Ok, Charles Olson wasn’t a robot. I just couldn’t keep my fingers off the keys. Olson spent the last ten years of his life writing the Maximus Poems; dying before finishing the project. I think that I would be happy if I could produce something even half as fine in my life time. The way he uses space on the page to build tension in the poem is as valuable as the words. That’s the lesson he taught me from beyond the grave.

THE MAXIMUS POEMS
The Ocean

** clay

                  Ganesha  

                          	pushed  

                 	into the  

              sea (after a single year as worshipped  

              God floated out and sunk  

              in the Indian Ocean, from  

          Bombay  

                     target area as  

          St Sebastian-body as  

          shot full of holes for a  

          purpose the God punished each year done away with  
               knocked off   

               the Solar King the Excess-Energy   

               transformed. Used. Excessive   

           energy  

      anyway-in a society like America energy if it is not moral is  
          only  

      material. Which cannot be destroyed is never destroyed is  
          only   

      left all over the place. Junk.  

  						Gloucester is  

              sea-shore where  

              Ganesh  

              may be  

      dropped rubbish  

      into the Harbor cleared away   

      yearly, to revive the Abstract to make it possible for form  

      to be sought again. Each year form has expressed itself. Each  
              year it too  

      must be re-sought. There are 70 odd "forms", there are 70  
              chances at revealing  

      the Real. The Real   

      renews itself each year, the Real   

      is solar, life is not, life is 13 months long each year. Minus  

      one day (the day the sun turns) The Sun  

      is in pursuit of itself. A year  

      is the possibility, the Real   

      goes on forever**