Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Michael McClure’s "To Glean the Livingness of Worlds" is a sprawling, ecstatic response to Rainer Maria Rilke’s Eighth Duino Elegy, a poem that meditates on the difference between human and animal perception. Rilke describes animals as seeing the world purely, without the self-awareness that turns human vision inward, trapping us in subjectivity. McClure, deeply identified with the Beat Movement’s pursuit of expanded consciousness and non-duality, takes up Rilke’s vision but transforms it, arguing that the division between human and animal perception is less rigid than Rilke suggests. For McClure, humans, too, can experience the "livingness" of the world—by breaking through self-consciousness, embracing our physicality, and recognizing the deep interconnectedness between all forms of life.

From the outset, McClure challenges Rilke’s idea that animals exist in a state of openness while humans are locked into reflexive self-awareness. He acknowledges the intensity of animal perception, writing of "every eye in pounding skulls" and the "starry tissue" of their consciousness, but he does not see them as inhabiting a realm of unmediated purity. Instead, he insists that all creatures—human and non-human—are engaged in the same essential struggle, dissolving time and space as they move through the world. He declares, "There’s no clearing out there. NO GLADE."—rejecting the idea that animals live in an Edenic state separate from human consciousness. Instead, McClure presents the universe as an unfolding, dynamic force in which humans and animals are equally immersed.

The poem is full of McClure’s signature biomorphic energy, linking physicality to revelation. His "eyes were not turned back upon themselves" but instead reached outward, seeking communion with the natural world. He describes an almost hallucinatory moment when he encounters a deer and her fawns in the headlights of his car, seeing them as kindred beings, their consciousnesses overlapping. Rather than portraying animals as alien, he insists, "Deer, you and I are the same stuff—just slightly different mists of spirit. I could almost be your lover. You are almost mine. We’re Brother / Sister." Here, McClure collapses the boundary between human and non-human, portraying existence as a single, interwoven process rather than a hierarchy in which humans stand apart.

This perspective is reinforced through cosmic imagery, as he repeatedly links animal life to celestial forces. The stars are not distant, unreachable objects but part of the same living system as "blackberry blossoms on the vine," "puma bites," and "the whirling cries of mating hawks." The poem insists that our experience of the world—our hunger, our instincts, our ability to feel awe—is not separate from the vast mechanisms of the universe. He writes, "THIS LIFE IS STAR LIFE; SISTER DEER AND I SEE STARS WITH STARS." The implication is clear: our physical and spiritual being is part of the cosmos itself, not separate from it.

In direct contrast to Rilke’s lament about human detachment from the world, McClure insists that life and death are interwoven, neither to be feared nor romanticized. He declares, "DEATH IS BESIDE THE POINT! WE’RE ALWAYS DEAD and in EVERY WAY this flesh is every way alive." This is a radical departure from conventional perspectives on mortality—it is not something to be dreaded but an ever-present part of the cycle of being. McClure, in keeping with his Beat contemporaries like Gary Snyder and Allen Ginsberg, suggests that to recognize our interconnectedness with all life is to transcend fear, to live more fully.

The poem also critiques the way human structures—both physical and conceptual—disrupt this natural awareness. He describes the artificiality of "moving images of boxes with myself inside of them," suggesting that modern existence is cluttered with distractions that prevent us from experiencing the "livingness" of the world. He contrasts this with the immediate, sensory joy of eating "the sun-heated berry, smelling the rose, smiling at the deer." The simplicity of these moments is positioned as an antidote to the deadening effects of civilization. The more we compartmentalize existence—through philosophy, ideology, and social constructs—the more we distance ourselves from the raw energy of life itself.

One of the most striking passages of the poem concerns the garter snake, which McClure elevates to near-mystical status: "THE GARTER SNAKE IS THE SLEEKEST ANGEL that I know, with his simple mind that is inseparable from hunger and an endless history." The snake, like the deer, like the hawk, embodies a consciousness that is instinctive and unmediated. Yet McClure does not romanticize it as something humans have lost—rather, he insists that we still are this primal force. He challenges the tendency to separate the intellectual from the physical, the spiritual from the biological, rejecting the idea that clarity comes from distance or detachment. Instead, he argues that true wisdom is found in the immediacy of experience: "I HOLD MY LOVER in these arms and she says my head is a sun for her. (Her breasts are universes lying on my arms.)" Here, love itself is cosmic, embodied, and inseparable from the natural world.

McClure’s response to Rilke is ultimately a rejection of the melancholic idea that humans are forever barred from the immediacy of existence. Where Rilke’s elegy laments the human condition, McClure’s poem is a triumphant assertion of participation. His vision is not one of detachment but of absolute immersion, a belief that through deep engagement with our senses, our instincts, and our connection to other beings, we can glean the livingness of worlds. In this way, McClure aligns himself with the Beat Movement’s overarching mission: to break down artificial barriers—between human and animal, body and spirit, civilization and wildness—and to embrace a reality that is direct, organic, and utterly alive.

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