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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=535656" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Privilege Kicks - A Meditation In Paces Near William Faulkner's Grave</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'I believe that when the last ding-dong of doom has <br>clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging <br>tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even <br>then there will still be one more sound: that of man's <br>puny, inexhaustible, voice still talking! …not simply <br>because man alone among creatures has an inexhaustible <br>voice, but because man has a soul, a spirit capable of <br>compassion, sacrifice and endurance'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">— William Faulkner - Nobel Prize Banquet Speech</div><div style="margin:10px 0">*</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sign, green background, yellow<br>lettering, in a Mississippi graveyard, <br>reads: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'WILLIAM FAULKNER</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The creator of<br>Yaknapatawpha county, <br>whose stories about his<br>people won him the Nobel<br>Prize, is buried twenty steps<br>east of this marker.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">*</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There the happy Worm feasts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Walk as many paces as you want and you arrive at this: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here lies the 'Ding Dong of Doom.'<br>Not puny at all, such is the voice of man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Red and dying, post-coital.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One reaches for the dawn even at sunset, strikes a match. <br>Dispatches left over tension in first exhalations.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Confront the Bear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Human underwear, male/female, sad, drapes a chair beside<br>a bed, a bookshelf near. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sign unseen except on a cigarette pack says: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">WARNING: The Surgeon General has determined that <br>paces, any paces, forward, aft, left, right, cannot <br>defeat what is hoped for in the contents of this <br>package which allude to 1) satiation 2) compassion <br>3) sacrifice [which means 'to make sacred'] <br>4) endurance [a man's hope, a woman's genius]. <br>Should one or none of these arrive return then <br>to a cemetery gate. Note that just beyond the <br>entrance is a garbage can. Ponder. Possibly say <br>(infinite possibility) aloud; possibly, even, <br>make another marker, saying: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Death is a deed.<br>Death is a clean sorrow.<br>It is natural to weep -</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even a waste basket in a cemetery.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look out for the Bear, <br>any Bear of any kind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Turn toward it. Invite it: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Given the choice between the<br>experience of pain and nothing, <br>I would choose pain.' - Faulkner</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With as many paces as is necessary (be generous) <br>take a vote at each headstone, plot, marker, monument, <br>sunken soil indicating human remains. What would they <br>choose, 'nothing or pain? '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What would you? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ignore signs no matter how<br>useless underwear, male/female, <br>in a grave</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Know that for both 'wear' <br>(forget 'where' which is <br>or will be obvious) and <br>'grave, ' the word 'under' <br>is the operative one.<br> <br>And yours is the only voice now, <br>gravitas.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What is concealed beneath matters most, <br>then the ongoing translation for what <br>continues to measure paces, what may even<br>be spoils of the living, either way either <br>or each indicates there is life after all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gather, shall we, by<br>a pacing river, beauteous, <br>shining in its endurance, <br>singing of endurance <br>which may arrive strangely<br>ding-dong, brutal, <br>utterly satisfied: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A mule will labor ten years<br>willingly and patiently for you, <br>for the privilege of kicking you<br>once.' - Faulkner</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Warren+Falcon">Warren Falcon</a><div class=q>
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clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging 
tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even 
then there will still be one more sound: that of man's 
puny, inexhaustible, voice ..."></div>
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