II The Dream He Never Knew the End Of

 

“Tell me the name of the world.”

This is what Warren seeks through Audubon, his cipher. Audubon, the man of nature. Warren, the man of letters (note the astounding diversity of his work, his perseverance, intensity, & dedication: forget New Criticism & his strict hand). Two seekers. In search of:

What should he recognize? The nameless face
In the dream of some pre-dawn cock-crow—about to say what,
Do what? The dregs
Of all nightmare are the same, and we call it
Life. He knows that much, being a man,
And knows that the dregs of all life are nightmare.

Unless.

Unless what?

Even this searching is searching. How do we realize a vital consciousness? What shocks us most fully into ourselves? Warren needs an Audubon who needed , needs to say of Audubon that “he yearns to be able to frame a definition of joy.”

Warren charts this desire; it is his own; it is human. But so what?

 

n e x t

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