Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.58.0401142322570.24735@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>,
"WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines" <WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA>
Subject: Carson
Date: Wed, 14 Jan 2004 23:23:10 -0500 (EST)
Carson the heart of darkness in the jungle, the menace of men and animals, fires burning in the night, typhoon, soft trade-winds bringing men and women, ships that sail the sea, to their senses, to their destination, to the sun and the level ocean, to the moon and the level sky -:aye, this evil haunting us forever, the good Lord notwithstanding, Uma the native girl, Fiona the long-lost love disappeared far before the tale begins, Jim at the helm, Jim with the engines, Jim with the Beaufort scale over the top - you just had to look into his eyes, they were those of someone hunted far worse by himself than ever an enemy would bring to the fore - their eyes reflecting his, these pilgrims held to the ground by their stern belief, the captain grappling with the first mate, first mate with the engineer, stay out of it, there's the lush beauty of the islands, the dark beauty of the girl -:my old friend. he's always infuriated with Dylan Thomas and that line of his, as if Dylan hadn't done anything else in his bloody life. but he's got a chance to read it again, the outcast native girl, the missionaries, the dim view of humankind in general, more and more betrayal, another drink for the old man, penny for the old guy. his Lord Jim's the meandering of a soul with division inherent among the races, ratings, and that pain of his, a coward against those of Islam who tend beneath steel-grey skies - who tend, I say to my old friend, as if there's yet another mindless sea-captain, fat or thin or tall, who can tell? -:aye, the natives and their fearsome beliefs:aye, the voices breathing down our necks: aye, the voices chanting in the distance aye, the voices changing all about the fire, but where aye, the voices breathing down our necks aye, the natives and their fearsome beliefs aye, the whites and their pale skins and paler morals aye, the voices breathing down our necks:through my the heart of darkness in the jungle, the menace of men and animals, fires burning in the night, typhoon, soft trade-winds bringing men and women, ships that sail the sea, to their senses, to their destination, to the sun and the level ocean, to the moon and the level sky -! _