Big Sur

by Jack Kerouac

  pedigree, we’ve sunk more boats

  than dreamer’ll ever ever see

  —Burning—Burning—The world

  is burning & needs waaater

  —I’ll have a daughter,

  oughter, wait & seee—

  Churning, Churning, Me—

  Panties—Panties—

  these ancient fancies are

  so girling—You’ve not seen

  mermaids in my actual sea

  —You’ve not seen sexless babies

  with breasts of Majesty—

  My wife—My wife—

  Her name is Oh so really

  high life

  The low life Kingdom where

  we part out tea, is sea

  side Me—

  Josh—coof—patra—

  Aye ee mo powsh—

  Ssst—Cum here read me—

  Dirty postcard—Urchin sea—

  Karash your name—?

  Wanta swim, sink or swim?

  Ears ringing again?

  Sea vibrate rhythm

  crash sets off cave

  hanger blowers whistling

  dog ear back—to sea—

  Arree—

  Gerudge Napoleon nada—

  Nada

  Pluto eats the sea—

  Room—

  Hands folded by the sea—

  “On est toutes cachez, mange

  le silence,” dit les poissons de la

  mer—Ah Mar—Gott—

  Thalatta—Merde—Marde

  de mer—Mu mer—Mak a vash—

  The ocean is the mother—

  Je ne suis pas mauvaise quand j’sui

  tranquil—dans les tempêtes

  j’cri! Come une folle!

  j’mange, j’arrache toutes!

  Clock—Clack—Milk—

  Mai! mai! mai! ma!

  says the wind blowing sand—

  Pluto eats the sea—

  Ami go—da—che pop

  Go—Come—Cark—

  Care—Kee ter da vo

  Kataketa pow! Kek kek kek!

  Kwakiutl! Kik!

  Some of theserather taratasters

  trapped hyra tchere thaped

  the anadondak ram ma lat

  round by Krul to Pat the lat

  rat the anaakakalked

  romon tottek

  Kara VOOOM

  frup—

  Feet cold? wade—Mind sore?

  sim—sin—Horny?—lay the sea?

  Corny? try me—

  Ussens here hang no more

  here we go, ka va ra ta

  plowsh, shhh,

  and more, again, ke vlook

  ke bloom & here comes

  big Mister Trosh

  —more waves coming,

  every syllable windy

  Back wash palaver

  paralarle—paralleling

  parle pe Saviour

  A troublesome spirit

  hanging here cant make it

  in the void—The sea’ll

  only drown me—These words

  are affectations

  of sick mortality—

  We try to make our way

  in self reliance, aid

  not ever comes too quick

  from wherever & whatever

  heaven dear may have

  suggested to promise us—

  But these waves scare me—

  I am going to die

  in full despair—

  Wake up where?

  On second breath in life

  the atmosphere is dearer

  maybe closer to Heaven

  —O Paradise—

  Is the sea really so bad?

  Have you sent men

  here for this cold clown

  & monstrous eater at the

  world? whose sound

  I mock?

  God I’ve got to believe in you

  or live in death!

  Will you save us—all?

  Soon or now?

  Send illumination

  to our drowning brains

  —We’re pitiful, Lord,

  we need yr help!

  Save us, Dear—

  (Save yourself, God man,

  ha ha!)

  If you were God man

  you’d command these waves

  to very well Tennyson stop

  & even Tennyson

  is dear

  now dead

  Leave it to the light

  Concern yourself with supper,

  & an eye

  somebody’s eye—a wife,

  a girl, a friend, an animal

  —a blood let drop—

  he for his sea,

  he for his fire,

  thee for thy desire

  “The sea drove me away

  & yelled ‘Go to your desire!’

  —As I hurried up the valley

  It added one last yell:-

  ‘And laugh!’”

  Even the sea cant stop me from

  writing something to read in my old age

  —This is the chart of brief forms,

  this sea the briefest—Shish yourself—

  After scaring me like that, Mar,

  I’ll excoriate yr slum—yr

  iodine weeds & slime hoops,

  even yr dried hollow seaweed

  stinks—you stink all over—

  Boom—Try that, creep—

  The little Monterey fishingboat

  glides downward home 15 miles to go,

  be home to fried fish & beer b’five—

  It guides the sea its bird routes—

  —Silver loss forever outward

  —From blue sky of human bridges

  to the massive mawkcloud sea center

  heap—to the gray—

  Some boys call it gunboat blue,

  or gray, but I call it

  the Civil War of Rocks

  —Rocks ‘come air, rocks ‘come water,

  & rock rocks—

  Kara tavira, mnash grand bash

  —poosh l’abas—croosh

  L’a haut—Plash au pied—

  Peeeee—Rolle test boulles—

  Manche d’la rache—

  The handsome King prevails

  over boom sing bird head—

  “Crache tes idées,” spit yr ideas,

  says the sea, to me, quite

  appro priate ly—

  Pss! pss! pss!

  Ps! girl inside!

  Red shoes scum, eyes of old

  sorcerers, toenails hanging down

  in the barrel of old firkin cheese

  the Dutchman forgot t’eat that

  tempest

  nineteen O

  sixteen—

  When torpedoed by gunboat

  Pedro in the Valley

  of a Million Fees?

  When Magellan crosseyed

  ate the Amazonian feet—

  And, Ah, when Colombo cross’t!

  When Drake sir francised the waves

  with feeding of the blue jay

  dark—pounded his aleward

  tank before the boom,

  housed up all thoughts of Erik

  the Red the Greenland caperer

  & builder of rockdungs in New

  Port—New—yet—
>
  Oldport Indian Fishhead—

  Oldport Tattoo Kwakiutl Headpost

  taboo potash Coyotl potlatch?

  Old Primitive Columbia.—

  Named for Colom bus?

  Name for Aruggio Vesmarica—

  Ar!—Or!—Da!

  What about Verrazano?

  he sailed!—

  He Verrazano zailed & we

  statened his Island in on deep

  in on dashun—

  Rotted the Wallower?

  Sinners liars goodmen all

  sink waterswim drink Neptune’s

  nectar the zal sotat—

  Zal sotate name for crota?

  Crota ta crotte, you aint

  ’bout to find (Jesus Christian!)

  any dry turds here below—

  Why fo no?

  Go crash yonder rock

  of bleak with yr filet mignon teeth

  & see—For you, the hearth,

  the heart, the lock of hair—

  For me, for us, the Sea,

  the murdering of time by eating

  lusty cracks of lip feed wave

  at aeons of sandy artistry

  till nothing’s left but old age

  newmorning primordial pain

  of sitters by

  the unborn

  bird

  of roses yet undone—

  With weeds your roses,

  sand crabs your hummers?

  With buzzers in the sea!

  With runners in the deep!

  This Sceptred Osh, this wide leg

  spanning rock U.S. to rock

  Ja Pan, this onstable

  roller roaming all,

  this ploosher at yr gory

  dry dung door, this mouth

  of silverwhite arring to hold thee,

  this purger of conscience

  arra for thee—

  No mouse in here but’s got

  a little glee—and

  aft, or oft, the osprey

  in his glee’s agley—

  Oh purty purty ocean

  me—

  Sop! bring the Scepter down!

  Again you’ve accepted me!

  Breathe our iodine, filthy yr drink,

  faint at feet wet, drop

  yr profile move it in the sea,

  float weeded watery Adonais

  longs for thee—& Shelley three,

  that’s three—burn in salt

  with slow most change—

  We’ve had no crack at eternity

  in a billion years of trying—

  one grain of sand possesses

  3 thousand worlds of glee—

  not to mention me—

  Ah sea

  Ah si—Ah so—

  shoot—shiver—mix—

  ha roll—tara—ta ta—

  curlurck—Kayash—Kee—

  Pearls pearls in the yellow West

  —Yellow sky to China—

  Pacific we named here

  water as always meeting

  water—Pacific Pacific

  Pacific tapfic—geroom—

  gedowsh—gaka—gaya—

  Tatha—gata—mana—

  What sails used old bhikkus?

  Dhikkus? Dhikkus!

  What raft mailed Mose

  to the hoven dovepost?

  What saved Blackswirl

  from the Kidd plank?

  What Go-Bug here?

  Seet! Seeeeeeeeeee

  eeeeeee—kara—

  Pounders out yar—

  Big Sur they call this sand

  these rocks this creek?

  Raton Canyon by name pours

  Coyote leaves & old Pomo bones

  & old dust of Tomahawks

  into your angler’d maw—

  My salt maw shall salvage

  Taylors—sewing in the room

  below—

  Sewing weed shrat for hikers

  in the milky silt—

  Sewing crosswards

  for certainty—Sartan

  are we of Price Victory

  in this salt War with thee

  & thine thee jellied yink!

  Look O the sea here called

  Pacific Sea!

  Taki!

  My golden empty soul’ll

  outlast yr salty sill

  —the Windows of my jelly eye

  & fish head muck look out on thee,

  slit, with cigar-a-mouth,

  some contempt—

  Yet I hie me to see you

  —you hie thee to eat

  me—Fair in sight

  and worn, aright—

  Arra! Aroo!

  Ger der va—

  Silly silent cities in the sea

  have children playing cardboard

  mush with eignyard old Englander

  beeplates slickered oer with scum

  of histories below—

  No tempest as still & awful

  as the tempest within—

  Sorcerer hip! Buddhalands

  & Buddhaseas!

  What sails Maudgalyayana used

  he only knows to tell

  but got kilt by yellers

  sreaming down the cliff

  “Let’s go home!

  Now!”

  —leave marge smashed djamas

  Maudgalyayana was murdered by the sea—

  But the sea dont tell—

  The sea dont murder—

  The seadrang scholars

  oughter know that

  or

  go back to School

  Hear over there the ocean motor?

  Feel the splawrsh of it?

  Six silly centepedes here, Machree—

  Ah Ratatatatatat—

  the machinegun sea, rhythmic

  balls of you pouring in

  with smooth eglantinee

  in yr pedigreed milkpup

  tenor—

  Tinder marsh aright arrooo—

  arrac’h—arrache—

  Kamac’h—monarc’h—

  Kerarc’h Jevac’h—

  Tamana—gavow—

  Va—Voovla—Via—

  Mia—mine—

  sea

  poo

  Farewell, Sur—

  Didja ever tell him

  about water meeting water—?

  O go back to otter—

  Term—Term—Klerm

  Kerm—Kurn—Cow—Kow—

  Cash—Cac’h—Cluck—

  Clock—Gomeat sea need

  be deep I see you

  Enoc’h

  soon anarf

  in Old Brittany

  21 August 1960

  Pacific Ocean at Big Sur

  California

  • • •

  For a complete list of this author’s books click here or visit

  www.penguin.com/kerouacchecklist

  1The complete poems written by the sea are to be found at the end of this book, in the appendix, entitled “SEA”: Sounds of the Pacific Ocean at Big Sur. JK

 

 

 
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