Sea Sounds of the Pacific at Big Sur by Jack Kerouac
Cherson!
Cherson!
You aint just whistlin
Dixie, Sea—
Cherson! Cherson!
We calcimine fathers
here below!
Kitchen lights on—
Sea Engines from Russia seabirding here below—
When rocks outsea froth
I’ll know Hawaii
cracked up & scramble
up my doublelegged cliff
to the silt of
a million years—
Shoo—Shaw—Shirsh—
Go on die salt light
You billion yeared
rock knocker
Gavroom
Seabird
Gabroobird
Sad as wife & hill
Loved as mother & fog
Oh! Oh! Oh!
Sea! Osh!
Where’s yr little Neppytune
tonight?
These gentle tree pulp pages
which’ve nothing to do
with yr crash roar,
liar sea, ah,
were made for rock
tumble seabird digdown
footstep hollow weed
move bedarvaling
crash? Ah again?
Wine is salt here?
Tidal wave kitchen?
Engines of Russia
in yr soft talk—
Les poissons de la mer
parle Breton—
Mon nom es Lebris
de Keroack—
Parle, Poissons, Loti,
parle—
Parlning Ocean sanding
crash the billion rocks—
Ker plotsch—
Shore—shoe—
god—brash—
The headland looks like
a longnosed Collie sleeping
with his light on his
nose, as the ocean,
obeying its accommodations
of mind, crashes in
rhythm which could
& will intrude, in thy
rhythm of sand
thought—
—Big frigging shoulders
on that sonofabitch
Parle, O, parle, mer, parle,
Sea speak to me, speak
to me, your silver you light
Where hole opened up in Alaska
Gray—shh—wind in
The canyon wind in the rain
Wind in the rolling rash
Moving and t wedel
Sea
sea
Diving sea
O bird—la vengeance
De la roche
Cossez
Ah
Rare, he rammed the gate
rare over by Cherson, Cherson,
we calcify fathers here below
—a watery cross, with weeds
entwined—This grins restoredly,
low sleep—Wave—Oh, no,
shush—Shirk—Boom plop
Neptune now his arms extends
while one millions of souls
sit lit in caves of darkness
—What old bark? The dog
mountain? Down by the Sea
Engines? God rush—Shore—
Shaw—Shoo—Oh soft sigh
we wait hair twined like
larks —Pissit—Rest not
—Plottit, bisp tesh, cashes,
re tav, plo, aravow,
shirsh,—Who's whispering over
there—the silly earthen creek!
The fog thunders—We put
silver light on face—We
took the heroes in—A billion
years aint nothing—
O the cities here below!
The men with a thousand
arms! the stanchions of
their upward gaze! the
coral of their poetry! the
sea dragons tenderized, meat
for fleshy fish—
Navark, navark, the fishes
of the Sea speak Breton—
wash as soft as people’s
dreams—We got peoples
in & out the shore, they call
it shore, sea call it
pish rip plosh—The
5 billion years since
earth we saw substantial
chan—Chinese are
the waves—the woods
are dreaming
No human words bespeak
the token sorrow older
than old this wave
becrashing smarts the
sand with plosh
of twirled sandy
thought—Ah change
the world? Ah set
the fee? Are rope the
angels in all the sea?
Ah ropey otter
barnacle’d be—
Ah cave, Ah crosh!
A feathery sea
Too much short—Where
Miss Nop tonight?
Wroten Kerarc’h
in the labidalian
aristotelian park
with slime a middle
—And Ranti forner
who pulled pearls by
rope to throne
the King by
the roll in the
forest of everseas?
Not everseas, be seas
—Creep
Crash
The woman with her body
in the sea—The frog who
never moves & thunders, sharsh
—The snake with his body
under the sand—The dog
with the light on his nose,
supine, with shoulders so
enormous they reach back to