REFLECTIONS ON POEMS AND BONES
by David Lauterstein
May 3, 2024
Bones were certainly among the first musical instruments and vital to certain forms of prayer, ritual, community and celebration, for example the shofar in the Jewish tradition. The ribcage was the first xylophone. And the beating of drums on taut skins likely made acoustic accompaniment to the cave painters and the singers of tales. Hollowed out clavicles became the first flutes.
So bones have played a part in musical and ritual declamations. In addition, bones, those mysterious survivors even of death, have been used in divination – especially in China where the scapulae of animals have been particularly useful as “oracle bones.”
The bones have been formed over time by the act of swimming, crawling, four-legged running, humans walking upright and of course birds flying with lightened bones through the sky.
Every bone represents an age-old solution to a natural challenge. Therefore, each carries the embodied wisdom of how to be in the world. And each bone has a different story to tell – these forms articulate uniquely in each particular life - as well as in some sense all the lives from which nature has garnered information about how to shape ourselves.
The role of bone in poetry has been to carry varying significances. If we choose to view them even more imaginatively we can see in the bare bones of form in poetry one of core meanings, punctuated by articulations, just as joints provide space between the bones, allow articulate movement, pauses between words, sentences and stanzas imbuing poems with greater power by not being composed only of words.
The foot bones are our foundation. Like the alphabet there are 26 bones in each foot. We can imagine the 26 letters that form the foundation for all English words underlying the vast territory of written words, especially in poetry.
So, in both feet there are 52 bones - more than a quarter of all the bones in the body! And by what divine plan, natural coincidence or underground cultural force have we been given the 52 cards in a standard deck? 52 weeks in the year? These numerical synchronicities form our foundations in space and time.
What might be similarly the foundations for our lives as manifest through poetry? For the bones are reserved a unique sense of ultimacy.
“I just know that in my bones.” What does that mean?
Does poetry in fact arise out of what we know in our bones – a knowledge more ancient, living beneath the accidents of every day gesture, like Lao-Tse’s tao -
“the Sage governs himself by relaxing the mind, reinforcing the abdomen, gentling the will, strengthening the bones.”
- from chapter 3, Tao Te Ching - translated by Tam C. Gibbs
What would you say are the foundations of your being, your doing?
You don’t need to cite 26 but consider what your six most important values are. As we bring our journey through what the bones tell us, we need to strengthen and orient ourselves by being conscious of our guiding, fundamental values. We cannot see or walk our pathway clearly without these guiding lights.
- 52 Ways to Say the Earth is My Home -
The tibia is the second largest bone, next to the hip bone, the femur. It is, beautifully enough, named after an early version of the oboe that was played in ancient Greece – similar to the lower pitched baroque instrument, the oboe d’amore. The tibia’s thickness and strength allow it to support, along with the foot, the entire weight of the body above. Nonetheless it has a hollow shaft in the middle – through which we might imagine a powerful wind music could be heard, sweet and low.
What can we learn from it and is there a kind of tibial poetry that speaks from it to us?
Alix Klingenberg writes:
become the milky doorway
the red-breasted creature
of the in-between, the
goddess liminal. Let
secrets form the calcium
of your newly formed
skeleton, trust what
stays in the bones.
Just as poetry manifests from a deeper place than words, bones live below what we “will.”
Where did these words in “Morning Swim” of Maxine Kumin come from?
…My bones drank water; water fell
through all my doors. I was the well
that fed the lake that met my sea
in which I sang "Abide With Me."
—Maxine Kumin
Like an unseen, underground spring gives rise to a lake so our unconscious mind is a spring or a well that feeds the sea of words that become poetry.
new bones - by Lucille Clifton
we will wear
new bones again
we will leave
these rainy days,
break out through
another mouth
into sun and honey time.
worlds buzz over us like bees,
we be splendid in new bones.
other people think they know
how long life is
how strong life is.
we know.
Even deeper than bone itself is the marrow within.
God guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone…
from “A Prayer for Old Age” – William Butler Yeats
Marrow is produced in the center of our bones. As adults it is mostly in the pelvis, ribs, vertebrae, sternum, clavicle, and scapula. Bone marrow is the primary source of blood cells’ production – producing over 500 billion new blood cells every day.
The marrow of poems is the life force that, like the red blood cells, give breath and life to every word. In spite of the relative stillness of bone itself, the marrow is our source of blood so integral to circulation that, if a viable vein cannot be found, intravenous nourishment can be delivered by inserting a needle directly into the center of a marrow-producing bone.
With muscles and willed movements of the mind, we can enact certain things. But the realm of marrow takes us to and draws upon soul substance deeper than will.
Bones are characterized by housing trabeculae. These are empty spaces within the bones themselves that make them lighter and more flexible. Many are called spongy bones. They absorb force, compression, and torque far better than if bones were what we think of as “solid.” The trabecular structure of birds’ bones is so thorough that the weight is dramatically reduced and flight becomes possible.
All bones are somewhat honey-combed. Similarly, a poem is a honey-comb of words with empty spaces between them. Like everything, like the atom itself, it is mostly empty space – the ratio of protons, electrons, and neutrons to empty space in the atom being the same as the ratio of stars to empty space in the universe.
So how is it that we speak anyhow out of this empty space?
BONE DANCE
The skull of the old man wears a
face that's a rose from the renewd Adam thrown.
Slack undulations fall,
radiant teachings from the gospel bone,
fragrance folded upon fragrance,
tone twisted within tone, of gold
cream, rose, blood, milk - ruddy paroxysm
flowering from inertia.
Sweet Marrow,
it's the hidden urgency we beggd to sing to us
that were a gathering of his children, bone
of his bone....
- astonishing excerpt from Robert Duncan's "Bone Dance" in the book, “The Opening of the Field”
“Stanza” comes from the ancient root meaning to stand, to make or be firm. Each stanza is a step separated by other steps. Each is a gesture that takes us forward step-by-step. The beginning of the poem gives us a footing from which we then proceed. The next – tibial – if we like, extends the music, then deeper into the steps and the dance of the poem, like the hip and pelvis evoke more deeply what is in the act of being born and spoken. By now the whole poem begins to have a spine, a central axis of mind, heart, and word extending up from the earliest ground. Then, as they say in Asian medicine, “heaven and earth meet in the heart; it is their destiny and place of rendezvous”. Here as well we find the caged birds’ songs emerging from the rib cage and lungs. Then the poem reaches out with its shoulders, arms and hands to touch the heart of the reader. The words speak to us, not just on a page. The vocalizations resolving into song, melody and harmony and the words to the song touching the mind as well – intermixing with memory, thought, the suspense of belief that makes all good drama real. Finally the poem leaves us with the final words and phrases back into the wordless universe all around us and the silence with which all poems end.
I Knew a Woman
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.)
How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin:
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing did we make.)
Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved.)
Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways.)
- Theordore Roethke
This poem underscores in its rhymes, rhythms, and words how a body moves, how a poem dances and so proves it’s alive. Bones walk through time as do our words. Ultimately the lives we love are rooted in the bones.
All this leads us to the archetypal, poetic evocation of bones and life from Ezekiel 37:7
37 There hath been upon me a hand of Jehovah, and He taketh me forth in the Spirit of Jehovah, and doth place me in the midst of the valley, and it is full of bones,
2 and He causeth me to pass over by them, all round about, and lo, very many [are] on the face of the valley, and lo, very dry.
3 And He saith unto me, `Son of man, do these bones live?' And I say, `O Lord Jehovah, Thou -- Thou hast known.'
4 And He saith unto me, `Prophesy concerning these bones, and thou hast said unto them: O dry bones, hear a word of Jehovah:
5 Thus said the Lord Jehovah to these bones: Lo, I am bringing into you a spirit, and ye have lived,
6 and I have given on you sinews, and cause flesh to come up upon you, and covered you over with skin, and given in you a spirit, and ye have lived, and ye have known that I [am] Jehovah.'
7 And I have prophesied as I have been commanded, and there is a noise, as I am prophesying, and lo, a rushing, and draw near do the bones, bone unto its bone.
8 And I beheld, and lo, on them [are] sinews, and flesh hath come up, and cover them doth skin over above -- and spirit there is none in them.
9 And He saith unto me: `Prophesy unto the Spirit, prophesy, son of man, and thou hast said unto the Spirit: Thus said the Lord Jehovah: From the four winds come in, O Spirit, and breathe on these slain, and they do live.'
10 And I have prophesied as He commanded me, and the Spirit cometh into them, and they live, and stand on their feet -- a very very great force.
Then from Ezekiel and the words of the Lord came the archetypal song by James Weldon Johnson and his brother, “Dem Bones.” that proceeds step-by-step up through the skeletal system, ending with “Hear the Word of the Lord.” This reminds us that beyond what our bones and our life tell us, there are other miraculous voices to hear.
Bones
Centuries from now
when the archaeologists
shake the dust from your bones
let them marvel at this thing
called courage
let them still find traces
of brave and beautiful
When they rearrange each part of you
hold you piece by piece against the light
give them something
to marvel at let their history books say:
"Here lies a woman who knew
that fear is just a growling animal
with no teeth"
© Titilope Sonuga
In Asian medicine bones are associated with the kidney and bladder meridians, the element of water and the emotion of fear. Its associated sound is “groaning.” Think of the sound a boat makes when it creaks against the dock.
If You Love the Body
If you love the body you must know the bone
that ribs and peoples it; deeper than flesh you feel
the beauty. That will last, simply as stone
upheaves in season where the winter rain
rakes asters and drooping cornstalks from a hill.
If you love the body you must know the bone
of fingers that touch, of the high case where the brain
lurks, of the deep knock and door and sill.
The beauty that will last, simply as stone
remains, is what you love when the blossom is gone -
petals and sepals and stem, roots and soil -
if you love the body you must know. The bone
smiles behind our faces when we frown,
knowing while the sweet flesh will not hold
the beauty, that will. Last, simply as stone
lasts, my love. For saying what I can
I ask forgiveness - in time we'll know it well.
If you love the body you must know the bone,
the beauty that will last simply as stone.
- Richard Tillinghast
What the bones tell me.
That there is empty space inside and between them.
That they are the deepest densest life within us.
That they have arrived at their current solutions of form and function through 400 million years of trials, errors, and tribulations.
That they carry marrow within them and are as vital a part of circulation as our hearts.
They may be the deepest existential location of the unconscious.
They “transmit” ancestral chi.
They embody a subjective sense of ultimacy.
Bones tissue, scientists have learned, is a kind of battery, releasing stored minerals needed for bodily processes.
As well, a poem may be considered a kind of battery releasing the stored energy needed for the life of the mind, body and heart.
Bones float in the body’s fluids, that, like the ocean, have their unique currents created by the rhythmic movement of heart, lungs, digestion and other fluid and semi-fluid bodily processes. (Similarly it’s said the nerves in the spinal cord in the living human “looks like their dancing to the Rolling Stones” - as the electrical impulses pass through them.)
A unique fluidity of thought is captured by each poem.
All the bones’ functions and forms have provided metaphors for life and death. They are indeed a source of life, not just biologically, but also emotionally and intellectually. They constitute a rich inner library from which we can and do draw wisdom.
Bones are 30% water. And between all bones flows synovial fluid that allows movement and the fluidity thereof.
They have their own “skin.” The fascia that is called here “periosteum” which lives on the outsides of our bones.
Silver Linings and Inner Treasures
Not only every cloud, but also every bone, has a silver lining.
That is the translucent, silvery, dense, irregular connective tissue called “periosteum”. Basically the skin of your bones, the periosteum entirely envelops them except at the ends of the joints.
The periosteum is a living layer inside of us, actually two layers of life! The outer “fibrous” layer is connective tissue – “fascia.” Like fascia elsewhere in the body, it contains living cells, fibroblasts, that produce fibrous tissue, particularly here irregularly woven strands of collagen that interweave, giving strength and flexibility to this outer covering of every bone. Yet deeper, living on the very surface of the bone, we discover the “cambium” layer, coming from the Latin “cambiare” which means “to change”. Indeed it is this cambium, “osteogenic” layer which changes our bones, helping them to grow and repair. The cambium layer produces progenitor cells, which become osteoblasts, which in turn make bone.
The periosteum is vital to our life as it also conveys blood to the bones. Sometimes we forget the vital role of bone in the circulatory system.
Periosteum also contains extremely sensitive nerve endings. Thus, when we bruise the periosteum, called a “contusion”, the pain is distinct and easily located. Bones themselves do not usually contain pain sensitive nerves, so it is the job of the periosteum as well to provide us with this valuable intelligence.
In Zero Balancing we use the term “bone gold” to describe a place where we feel an unusual thickness in bone and its periosteum. Just as releasing tension from the neuromuscular system gives us more energy for life, so the discovery of bone gold excites us as its release also contributes to an awakening of the incredible inner resource that is our skeletal system and its miraculous skin, the periosteum.
Even gold, it turns out, has a silver lining – your periosteum, this deep living treasure inside of you
............................................................................
In turn, the skin of poems may be seen, their inscriptions on paper, as if tattooed on flesh – as early writing was on parchment, or on animal skins, and the writings of scrimshaw on bones. The sinuous quality of letters drawn by hand or on the printed page are emblems of soul. Each letter is a note, each word its own oral dance and gesture, each stanza enwrapping the verse and chorus in a living container for spirit as surely as our connective tissues embrace every organ and bone within us.
REFERENCES
Clifton, Lucille. The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton
Duncan, Robert. The Opening of the Field
Klingenberg, Alix. (Poem found on-line)
Kumin, Maxine. Selected Poems.
Lao-Tse. Chapter 3 (trans. Tam. c. Gibbs
Roethke, Theodore – Collected Poems of Theodore Roethke
Sonuga, Titilope (poem found on-line)
Yeats, William Butler – Collected Poems
Bernard Siegfried Albinus