Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Michael McClure’s "Ghost Tantra: 49" epitomizes his commitment to poetry as a biological force, an act of being rather than mere communication. Part of his groundbreaking Ghost Tantras series, this poem oscillates between declarative wisdom and raw, bestial utterance, reflecting McClure’s desire to dissolve the barriers between language, instinct, and consciousness. Unlike traditional poetry, which often seeks clarity and logical structure, "Ghost Tantra: 49" revels in the visceral, the immediate, and the primal. The fact that it was "a reading with lions, San Francisco Zoo" underscores its intent—not as a poetic exercise for an intellectual audience, but as a sonic, corporeal event meant to engage with the non-human world.

The opening lines—"SILENCE THE EYES! BECALM THE SENSES!"—immediately establish the poem’s directive nature. This is not a passive reflection but an imperative, urging the listener to shut out external distractions, to disengage from the conventional sensory experience that keeps human perception bound to rationality. "Silence the eyes" suggests a turning inward, a shift from visual dependence to something deeper—perhaps an intuitive, instinctual awareness akin to the way animals perceive the world. "Becalm the senses" does not imply dulling them but rather refining them, moving beyond the surface level of experience to a more profound and unfiltered state of being.

McClure then issues a challenge: "Drive drooor from the fresh repugnance, thou whole, thou feeling creature." The word "drooor" appears to be one of McClure’s many invented sounds—nonverbal, charged with an unknown meaning that must be felt rather than translated. Its placement within an otherwise coherent statement suggests that drooor represents something external or imposed, something to be purged. Perhaps it stands for intellectual clutter, societal conditioning, or the artificiality of modern existence. The phrase "thou whole, thou feeling creature" reinforces the idea that this poem speaks directly to a being in its entirety—not just the mind, but the body, the emotions, the primal instincts that civilization often suppresses.

The next directive—"Live not for others but affect thyself from thy enhanced interior—believing what thou carry."—is a clear rejection of external validation. McClure urges the listener to exist not in reaction to society but from a place of self-contained truth. This "enhanced interior" is the source of genuine knowledge, and "believing what thou carry" suggests that enlightenment, understanding, or even personal salvation is already within. This resonates with Buddhist and Beat notions of self-awareness, where meaning is not sought outside oneself but realized internally through experience and awakening.

What follows is one of McClure’s most profound assertions: "Thy trillionic multitude of grahh, vhooshes, and silences." Here, language breaks open into sound, reinforcing his idea that words are not the highest form of expression—rhythm, breath, and vibration hold equal, if not greater, significance. The "trillionic multitude" suggests the vast, unknowable complexity of a being, encompassing both verbal and nonverbal communication. The reference to "grahh, vhooshes, and silences" affirms that existence is made up of both expression and stillness, both utterance and absence of sound. This aligns with McClure’s Buddhist influences, particularly the idea that silence is as meaningful as speech and that the self is composed of countless elements in constant motion.

McClure then offers a revelatory statement: "Oh you are heavier and dimmer than you knew and more solid and full of pleasure." This phrase complicates traditional spiritual or transcendentalist ideas that emphasize lightness and expansion. Instead, McClure acknowledges the density, the weight of being, suggesting that the self is not an ethereal entity but something deeply rooted, material, even dim in its lack of clarity. Yet, rather than being a limitation, this solidity is linked to pleasure. The body, the flesh, the presence of being in the world—these are not things to escape but to embrace. This is a radically embodied philosophy, rejecting the dualism that separates spirit from matter. McClure insists that we are not only full of sensation but that this physicality is pleasurable, a cause for celebration rather than a burden.

What follows is an extended sequence of pure sound poetry: "Grahhr! Grahhhr! Ghrahhhrrr!" and so on. These utterances are untranslatable, yet they carry meaning in their sonic force. Their repetitive, rhythmic quality mimics the chants of tantric practice or the growls of the lions that McClure famously read to. These sounds are meant to be vocalized, to be felt in the throat, chest, and gut. They demand participation—a break from passive reading into a space where the body itself becomes an instrument of poetry. The increasing intensity and variation of the "grahhrrs" suggest a building energy, much like a mantra, where repetition leads to a shift in consciousness.

The final line—“a reading with lions, San Francisco Zoo”—serves as both a factual note and a poetic statement. It places the poem in a specific context, reminding us that this was not an academic exercise but an experiment in interspecies communication. McClure famously read his Ghost Tantras to captive lions, believing that their guttural responses and bodily reactions were a form of dialogue. This radical approach reinforces the idea that poetry need not be solely for human consumption—rather, it is an elemental force that can reach beyond language, beyond intellect, and into something instinctual, something real.

"Ghost Tantra: 49" is a declaration of selfhood, an incantation of the body, and an experiment in poetic sound as a primal force. It merges Beat philosophy with deep ecology, rejecting human exceptionalism in favor of a broader, more inclusive consciousness—one that acknowledges our animality, our breath, our pleasure, and our connection to the non-human world. By fusing mysticism with the biologic immediacy of sound, McClure does not merely write poetry—he embodies it, demanding that we do the same.

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