And Now a Word from Your Local Logos: Charles Olson's "Love I"

I have believed (in the sense of obdurate hunch) that the best proofs of God in the early stage of our lives, when the thirst for him seems more a curse than a blessing, comes in a satiety of poems which proclaim that we are not made in love--but made of love. This is the primal, preceding presence we find--first as Holy Ghost which visits us, then merged with it as perfect host seeing to needs of the guests (one of which we once were). The party of the ways moves to our time and place. The sense of emergency that has governed our lives becomes emergence. We live in what poet Abdal-Hayy calls "the ecstatic exchange"--the endless procession of things as, in their highest and best use, proofs of God. At such times, Love is known and many of its characteristics declared and described. Here is one such proclamation of love as joyous, manifest Tao by Charles Olson, written around 1955, and proof that Transcendentalism was fully extant in modern-day America.

LOVE I


For that it is love and covers us

out of all the ports

For that it is not easily seen, apparently,

and is known only to those who know it.

For that it is excessive.

For that it does not yield

to anything else.

For that it keeps us

clean.



For that the hair on the head

is part of it,

for that desire knows only one end.

For that love is restless in all its other

proceedings,

however much those proceedings make possible

the end of desire

For that the beloved is ever

in one's thought.

for that this is the grace

which falls from love



For that we are clothed by it,

for that we are strengthened.

For that the feet return to be child's

feet, that is,

as hands are

For that it tears rampant

at all ports

For that it is transparent.

For that it makes each of us

lucid



For that it heightens.

For that it lightens

For that it makes a society of its own

that is only that membership,

that all others are to be wept for,

to be so bereft



For that to celebrate it

is to make it sound too easy

For it is not hornpipes, it glanceth

and so it throws its colors over anything.



For that it is not easily taken.

For that it takes.

For that what you give, you get everything

back

For that it is abundant

as nothing else is

For that it changes

the core

For that one does not live

except in its obedience

For that where it is,

life is,

and without it

there is retraction



For that the voice of love

is in the voice,

for that the eyes of love

are the eyes.

For that it does not hide,

it is in all things.

For the pity of love

is that there are those who do not love.



For all those who want it,

there is want.

For all those who will not,

there is will.

For all those who fail it,

there is failure

For all those,

love goes to them and says

love



For that all may love,

love is.

For that it has this periphery.

For that its center

is so available,

for that its center

is what all wants



For that love may be more known.


--The Collected Poems of Charles Olson, pages 370-2.