UNDERGROUND RIVER

HENRY MILLER WAS AN UNDERGROUND AMERICAN RIVER.
UNLIKE HIS HERO,BLAISE CENDRARS, MILLER DID NOT SEARCH IN EXOTIC EAST AFRICAN LOCALES FOR TREASURES,
BUT, INSTEAD, HE CHOSE TO SEARCH THROUGH THE PAGES
OF FIVE THOUSAND BOOKS & THEN, HIMSELF,
LOOKING TO DISCOVER SPIRITUAL TREASURES.
IN THAT POOL OF INK ,
HENRY BECOME THE RIVER THAT CARRIES
THE PURE LIVING WATER OF THE SOUL.
HENRY MILLER’S RIVER WAS A  MARK TWAIN STEAMBOAT
CARRYING CARNIVAL OF A RIVER LADEN
WITH EVERY INTERESTING CHARACTER
HE  COULD SMUGGLE ABOARD.
IT WAS FILLED WITH THE BLOOD & TEARS  & MOST OF ALL,
THE JOY & LAUGHTER OF EVERY OUTCAST ARTIST & CHARLATAN
THAT COULD ENTERTAIN  & EDIFY HIM.
MILLER’S RIVER FLOWED UP ! UP & AWAY THROUGH HILLS, MOUNTAINS, TREES, THROUGH THE CLOUDS, CIRCLED THE EARTH, CROSSED THE ILLUSIONARY DISTANCES OF SPACE UNTIL IT FLOWED, FINALLY, INTO THE MILKY WAY.
OFTEN,THE RIVER OVERFLOWED ITS BANKS.
HOW GENEROUS THIS RIVER.HOW FECUND,
THE DELTA THAT THIS RIVER  SPAWNED.
SOMETIMES THE RIVER RAGED SO STRONG
THAT IT WOUNDED.
IT WAS AN UNDERGROUND, ROLLER COASTER OF A RIVER
THAT BEGAN NEAR CONEY ISLAND..
NO WONDER IT HAD WILD TWISTS & TURNS,
UNEXPECTED DETOURS, & DECEPTIVE MEANDERINGS
LEADING TO EXOTIC ISLANDS WITH DRAMATIC WATERFALLS.
THE WATERFALLS WERE WONDROUS, BREATHTAKING,SEETHING, DANGEROUS & CHURNING. YOU COULD HURL YOURSELF OVER IT WITH HIM, BATHE IN THE IDYLLIC POOL BEYOND OR HIDE BEHIND IT,PURIFIED AS A NEW BORN BABE,
NAKED AND AS OPEN TO THE NEW WORLD
THAT HAD JUST OPENED UP BEFORE YOU.
THE RIVER PASSED THROUGH INCREDIBLE VARIETIES  OF TERRAIN; MYRIADS OF MOOD TURNS; THROUGH DARK GULCHES OF DESPAIR;
THROUGH SKYSCRAPER CITY QUARRIES;  
CEMETERY FARMS & IMAGINARY FORESTS OF DELIGHT 
PEOPLED WITH NYMPHS & SATYRS.
IT STRETCHED FROM MANHATTAN ISLAND TO MONTEREY PENINSULA;
FROM GREEK ISLANDS TO PARISIAN BROTHELS;
 FROM UNDERGROUND CAVES 
FULL OF DRIPPING STALACTITES & GUSHING GEYSERS  
& STRANGE FOUNTAINS OF YELLOWSTONE LANDSCAPE.
IT WAS A CURIOUS,EVER MOVING, CONSTANTLY DIVERTING
 & ALWAYS EXPLORING NEW LEVELS, 
VARIEGATED TEXTURES & OF COURSE, NEW BEDS …
MILLER’S  RIVER POLISHED EMERALDS & RUBIES; 
ROBBED BANKS; PROSPECTED RICH DEPOSITS OF ORE
& LORE & ALCHEMIZED THEM ALL. 
IT WAS A WONDEROUS, REFRESHING,
 CONTINUALLY SEARCHING RIVER, 
LOOKING FOR OLD STREAMS OF THOUGHT,
FORGOTTEN BRANCHES OF KNOWLEDGE, 
ANCIENT WELLS OF WISDOM 
& TAPPING ETERNAL FOUNTAINS OF YOUTH
*********
THE TRIAL OF HENRY MILLER
INQ
Mr. Miller is on trial for obscenity for something called Tropic of Capricorn which he wrote three years ago here in Brooklyn.
LAWYER
Your Honor, my client wrote Tropic of Cancer twenty-five years ago in Paris.
He is now 73 years old. You might as well put DH. Lawrence on trial.
INQ
So, We’ll arest him and wel’l put him on trial, too
LAWYER
Your Honor, he is not from Brooklyn.
So, we’ll get an extradition order.
LAWYER
Well, first…
INQ
Yes?
LAWYER
He’s dead!
INQ
And secondly?
LAWYER
He’s not an American.
INQ
Well I guess in that case there are extenuating circumstances.
LAWYER
Your Honor, I move to dismiss this case.
INQ
Where is Mr. Miller, counsel? And, Why isn’t he here today?
LAWYER
Mr. Miller is living in Big Sur, California, and has sent a letter to the court
which I will submit for the record.
INQ
What are the grounds for dismissal?
LAWYER
Your Honor, when Mr. Miller wrote Tropic of Cancer, Grove Press did not exist and Mr. Miller’s publisher was twelve years old and still knew nothing
of the joys of self-abuse, much less obscenity.
INQ
(MUMBLES) Wel I began masturbating at 12. But, ah. case dismissed!

from TIGHTROPE

see web page and youtube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUpXqoe5HnI
1:44

********
WITHOUT HENRY MILLER
I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD THE EXAMPLE OF HOW TO SURVIVE
WITHOUT BEING FAMOUS.
I ONLY ENVIED BOB DYLAN ONCE,
THAT HE PLAYED PING PONG
WITH HENRY MILLER!
AND I HAD READ MUCH OF MILLER
BEFORE I READ BOB’s SONGS & POEMS…
I GAVE BOB DYLAN A SONG &
A MEXICAN TEXTILE
ONCE UPON A TIME, A LONG TIME AGO,
@17,417 DAYS BY
THE MAYAN CALENDAR LONG COUNT
AND I DON’T REMEMBER
IF THE POEM CHALLENGED HIM
TO A DUEL OR A PING PONG MATCH.
SEE, I WROTE A FEW VERSIONS OF THE POEM
AND MAYBE THE ARCHIVES WILL REVEAL
WHICH VERSION I GAVE HIM.
MAYBE BOB REMEMBERS…..