In Xanadu, a pleasure-dome and without decree,
Whatever is sacred is like that which is measureless,
And whatever is measureless is like that which is sacred,
To run a river thru the sunless cavern.
And just as all walls girdle from the Garden,
Blossoming by the Rills, so all trees
Are enfolded from this forest hill by slanting.
Its chasm is the Moon
Its lover is the Demon.
The woman seethed it in its pants.
Her fountain is the Earth.
It is the fragment of every rebounding hailstone
On the thresher’s flail. Its rock is sacred
If it is flung into the river
Meandering the motion from the dale
And the caverns from men,
Lifelessly and with ancestral voices.
Prophesying shadow from the Dome of Pleasure,
And floating again from waves to measure,
And played together the dulcimer
Of maidens deep and loud.
In this way you will revive the singing of the icy caves
And all damsels will see you.
This is the dulcimer of all visions,
For it was an Abyssinian maid
That played the dulcimer loud.
This is the symphony reviving. From this,
And in this way, songs are sung.
For this delight I am called Kubla Kahn, for I build
The long domes for the sun of airy eyes.
Dread is what I have flashed
Of the circle of paradise.
Interesting. I remember when we read Kubla Kahn for Reihl, I was convinced that the chasm vaginal and that the waters spring from the fountain was sexuality and he wouldn't hear it, he said it symbolized pure creative thought, pure my ass.
ReplyDeleteI never know what to say when I read your poetry... I never feel quite qualified to comment, and I never feel quite quantified either... my true comments are in the space between this post and the next.
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