A rough sound was polished until it became a smoother sound, which was polished until it became Music,” Mark Strand wrote in his splendid poemtouching on the materiality of that enchantment: Music is matter dancing in mind. Music has a profound spiritual power over us — an echo of what Aldous Huxley called But at the heart of the blessedness is a biological symphony — a sensory interface between the human body and the fundamental forces of physics, a wilderness of shimmering synapses converting current into the song of feeling. Kierkegaard intuited this as an epoch before the of neuroscience. He located the unparalleled power of Music in , and Whitman understood it in celebrating Music as .
That precise interplay between nature and the human spirit is what the poet Ronald Johnson (November 25, 1935–March 4, 1998) explores throughout his magnificent forgotten masterpiece( ) — an epic poem of reality radiating the spirit of , partway between Blake and Feynman, harmonizing modernist verse with prose poetry. In 1980, a decade after he began composing them, Johnson published the first thirty-three “beams” — as he termed each of the numbered poetic particles comprising the epic totality — ARK: The Foundations. He vector of his life. To describe his unexampled work, Buckminster Fuller coined the word “philoverse.”
Among theis the relationship between science and Music — that reverberation across matter and mind, which Johnson hints at from the very beginning with his choice of epigraph, quoting one of Gertrude Stein’s exquisite encryptions of a fundamental truth: “anything shut in with you can sing.”
A century and a half after Margaret Fuller scandalized her fellow Transcendentalists with the radical assertion thatand a generation before a detected the sound of spacetime with the epoch-making discovery of gravitational waves, Johnson considers the scientific poetics of sound in the seventh of his “beams”:
Sound is the sea: pattern lapping pattern. If we erase the air and slow the sound of a struck tuning fork, it would make twodirections.
With his poetic ear pressed to the pulses of compression and rarefaction unspooled by the tuning fork as it pinches matter into a waveform, Johnson writes:
These alternate equidistant forces travel at the rate of 1,180 feet per second through the elasticity of air, fourthrough pure steel.
With an eye to the pioneering composer Charles Ives — creator of what may be the first radical piece of Music in the twentieth Century: the haunting 1906 orchestral masterpiece, which traveled backward in time by drawing on the sounds of nature before Industrial humanity and forward in time by laying the groundwork for the polytonal and polyrhythmic experimental Music that would score the following Century — Johnson writes:
Pattern laps pattern, and as they joined, Charles Ives heard the 19th Century in one ear and the 20th out the other, then commenced making a single music of them. The final chord of the 2nd Symphony is a reveille of all notes at once; his[Variations on “America”, composed when Ives was 17] ends with fireworks of thirteen rhythmic patterns zigzagging through the winds and brasses, seven percussion lines crisscrossing these, the strings divided in twenty-fours going up and down every which way — and all in FFFF.
Both tuning fork and Fourth are heard by perturbations of molecules, through ever more subtle stumbling blocks, in spiral ricochet, to charged branches.