Is there absolution in music?
Or does perfection invest the silence?
No right have I to claim the office of a lover,
Nor deem myself a good and kindly man,
For fierce importunate lust drives me on,
Crashing through barriers,
Battling all-comers,
Without satisfaction or end.
Irony’s empire extends its frontiers further
With every iffy day.
And here is a token,
A bent coin,
A conversation overheard.
I offer no axioms,
Make no prophecies,
Do nothing save breathe.
Proud words,
Lofty impertinences,
Idiosyncrasies of the air!
Sad translator,
Solitude’s rabbi,
I slyly parse the world.
I claim no special gift:
Winds, rocks and dunes can also sing.
Mathematical proofs are not my forte.
Take me, or not, on trust.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Adventures on Other Planets
Climbing Mount Olympus on Mars,
Freezing in carbon dioxide wind,
I look out over the Tharsis Dome,
Across the tops of gargantuan volcanoes,
While Phobos speeds across carmine sky
And dust storms scorch the plains.
Traversing Venus, Earth’s infernal twin,
Under brimstone clouds, I fight through
Thick mephitis, as the devious crust
Shifts over roiling furnace fires below,
Across volcanic clines, faults and ridges,
In Ishtar’s spiderworld, with twisted eyes.
I stumble around grave Mercury’s craters,
Under endless giant cliffs, staring into
Perpetual black skies, dragged ever down
Under the weird horizon, watching atoms
Sputter off the surface, driven by solar wind,
Cosmic rays and micrometeorites.
Descending through Jupiter’s thunderheads,
Lightning-struck, stifled with poisons,
I plunge into hydrogen twilight ocean,
Whirled in maelstrom firestorms,
Ice-crystal-bright, endlessly mutating,
Drowned in the voracious maw.
Through Saturn’s icy rings reflecting,
I hurtle, deep winter’s snowman sacrifice,
Past icebergs and snowballs in flight,
Into the dream-blizzard, dancing the dazzle,
As deep harmonics resonate in space,
Maintaining delicate mass in place.
Uranus’s waters call me to set sail
On ghost-blue voyages to invisible shores,
My compass whirled by its queer core,
Through extreme seasons, rotating
Backwards among millions of moons,
Giddy with fatal elixir.
Freezing in carbon dioxide wind,
I look out over the Tharsis Dome,
Across the tops of gargantuan volcanoes,
While Phobos speeds across carmine sky
And dust storms scorch the plains.
Traversing Venus, Earth’s infernal twin,
Under brimstone clouds, I fight through
Thick mephitis, as the devious crust
Shifts over roiling furnace fires below,
Across volcanic clines, faults and ridges,
In Ishtar’s spiderworld, with twisted eyes.
I stumble around grave Mercury’s craters,
Under endless giant cliffs, staring into
Perpetual black skies, dragged ever down
Under the weird horizon, watching atoms
Sputter off the surface, driven by solar wind,
Cosmic rays and micrometeorites.
Descending through Jupiter’s thunderheads,
Lightning-struck, stifled with poisons,
I plunge into hydrogen twilight ocean,
Whirled in maelstrom firestorms,
Ice-crystal-bright, endlessly mutating,
Drowned in the voracious maw.
Through Saturn’s icy rings reflecting,
I hurtle, deep winter’s snowman sacrifice,
Past icebergs and snowballs in flight,
Into the dream-blizzard, dancing the dazzle,
As deep harmonics resonate in space,
Maintaining delicate mass in place.
Uranus’s waters call me to set sail
On ghost-blue voyages to invisible shores,
My compass whirled by its queer core,
Through extreme seasons, rotating
Backwards among millions of moons,
Giddy with fatal elixir.
Eidolon: Sophia Prounikos (Sinistra)
I move through the Egyptian temple,
Lifting the heavy door latches
With keys in the form of ankhs.
Sister-wife,
The serpent of light
Devours us both.
I am the honoured one and the scorned one.
I am the holy one and the whore.
I am the mother and the daughter.
I am the maker of gods,
Worshipping their creation.
I have come to light the torches in the bridal chamber.
Baptized in water and light,
I wait for the perfect reflection.
Give me the strength to keep faith with life,
Knowing that all is well.
Lifting the heavy door latches
With keys in the form of ankhs.
Sister-wife,
The serpent of light
Devours us both.
I am the honoured one and the scorned one.
I am the holy one and the whore.
I am the mother and the daughter.
I am the maker of gods,
Worshipping their creation.
I have come to light the torches in the bridal chamber.
Baptized in water and light,
I wait for the perfect reflection.
Give me the strength to keep faith with life,
Knowing that all is well.
Mnemosyne (Memory Theatre)
This Venetian glass keeps its secrets,
On pain of a little death.
I am the scholiast of my own soul,
Studying to classify.
These talismans I have charged
With the power of the stars.
Saturn rules my skulking days,
With the wolf, the lion and the dog.
Wheels within wheels,
To conjure demons and angels.
Angelic grammar of the intellect,
Build bridges and stairs.
Souls descend through Cancer
To drink the cup of forgetfulness,
Then ascend back to the heavens
Through Capricorn.
On pain of a little death.
I am the scholiast of my own soul,
Studying to classify.
These talismans I have charged
With the power of the stars.
Saturn rules my skulking days,
With the wolf, the lion and the dog.
Wheels within wheels,
To conjure demons and angels.
Angelic grammar of the intellect,
Build bridges and stairs.
Souls descend through Cancer
To drink the cup of forgetfulness,
Then ascend back to the heavens
Through Capricorn.
The Foundation Stone
Back to the Tree ! Here and now. No more words like sin and redemption ; just breathe.
This life is mine and now.
Come to Mother, come under her skirts.
Leaves,branches,roots : it is all yours.Fire,water,air and earth.
Mystery I need, strangeness I crave : to question, to puzzle, to explore.
Bring the heavens down, earth the heavens through your body, with your feet planted square and your backbone straight.
Everything is telling you to act from the heart, all these energies want to be reconciled, all these moments want to be seen in the round, instantaneous, eternal.
To receive is to reveal.
In your hands is the map of the universe, the union of inner and outer, the rainbow bridge, the means to converse with angels and spirits, the mother of symbols and connections, the essence of forms, colours and sounds.
What is the purpose behind the reason?
This is what maintains me, all my bones, blood, tissue, muscles, lymph and marrow, sensations, thoughts, feelings : the attraction of the earth, the sun, the stars and planets; the attraction of every dust-mote in this room; the resistance of the floor and the pressure of the air.
I spell the universe, sounding the depths with my tongue, ringing out the bells to the limits of time. This is unity, this is love.
O, spheres of the Self, inexhaustible sources! Here am I, above and below the Abyss. Ten magnets attract and repel, masculine and feminine, positive and negative.
I will draw you the symbol of myself, using the dot, the circle, the crescent, the arrow, the horizontal line, the vertical line and the cross.
I am the man of seven altars, seven angels, seven rams, seven trumpets, seven seals, seven deadly sins, seven stars, seven days, seven notes, seven colours, the seven-pointed star.
This is my body, the world. This is the Kingdom: touch, taste, sight, smell, hearing. Now my eyes are open, now they are closed. Everything is happening, all at once. Everyone, even you, must one day pass through the Gate. The Royal Vulva calls you, the Bride awaits her groom.
Let not discrimination and scepticism turn to inertia and avarice.
Your feet feel the earth, your anus tenses.
Blue child, see the splendour. Osiris sits enthroned in the sun.
Feel the unbalance, the disharmony of energies, the grief of the suppressed. It is you who must create yourself and the world. Release and transform the unbalance, and increase knowledge, understanding and wisdom. What will you find on the dark side of the moon ?
I am there for the waxing and waning of the moon, the full moon and the invisible moon; I am there for sunrise and sunset, for midday and midnight. I must fight my way forth to independence, else fall into sloth and stagnation. The penis erect, the clitoris erect ! Pure intelligence sees through to the innards of the cosmos, to the core.
Incense billows with memories, emotions ; the scent of the ritual self. O, astral light, substance of dreams !
I am of the farthest star and the nearest mote.
Connect your heart with the heart of the sun.
You must learn the words, names, verses and spells of magic. The art of mind is my passion. The sounding of each letter of the alphabet vibrates in space. See how the different notes resonated through iron filings draw them into different patterns. These powers, used with love, bring the blessings of the universe; used for ill, they wreak destruction.
What will the chalice pour out for you ? I see Mars in Leo, and Venus in Scorpio, the Moon in Aquarius, and Saturn in Taurus. How you suffer,brwteen unselfishness and lust ! It is wisdom to surrender, to walk around and look at what is there. Enflame yourself, exalt yourself in prayer, in meditiation,,to clarify, control and direct the forces of your very birth. And then you will call the simplest thing ecstasy.
O, beauty, harmony ! – I am the sun at the core of the swirl, the heart around which all revolves. I must seek the balance of attachments, the dancer’s poise. All that matters is devotion to the Great Work, the fulfilment of the True Will, the dialogue with the Holy Guardian Angel.
I am Adam, the first-born, the first blood, the radiant hermaphroditic child, the venerable old king in the shadowy palace. In my hands I grasp the victory of pleasure, the science of success.
Who is this I, ever changing, never sure ? Everywhere I turn, I see reflections, reflections in reflections, reflections of reflections, everywhere. Opening, rising, I begin to sense the pure,permanent,immutable,indestructible self beyond.
Now, this instant, a lightning flash illumines the universe entire,simulutaneous, all dimensions.
Love under Will is the lion whose mane is constellations and whose claws are fire.
Between polarities, I seek the third place, to create the higher triangle.
Witness the head of the serpent spiralling up the Tree, seeking out the crown, unable to break through the veil of the Abyss, reaching no further than Knowledge. You are here at the demon-guarded gate, between the real and the illusory, the ideal and the actual, the potential and the manifest. Above the Abyss all opposites are reconciled; below, all is duality, confusion, horror. There, in the Abyss, dwells the great demon, the disperser of false knowledge, the consumer of consciousness. Beware the demons, the harlots, the shells, the vampires, the ghouls, the destroyers.
The caduceus is given to you : will you choose to ascend or descend? Which will you choose : mysticism or magic?
Seven ways invite the soul : will, love, action, beauty, science, devotion and ritual.
The waves of the Great Sea silently break over me. Saturn and Neptune rise in the heavens, controlling the tides, and my long-dead mother walks towards me in the garden, proffering the lily in her hand. The cup and the wand are yours to wield. The myrrh of the yoni intoxicates me. The Queens of the court come black and mournful. This is your path, to trace the shape of the vesica piscis.
Here is the cup into which you must drain every last drop of your blood, before you may cross the Abyss, and enter the City of the Pyramids.
White brilliance of the Crown, swastika revolving, thousand-petalled lotus, Macroprosopus at the end of Time !
Now the union of the god and goddess, -desire, grace and reality as one, ad the moment of orgasm when the Holy Spirit enters the celebrants.
It is the Veils that clarify and train our eyes.
What do you see under the electron microscope? Only yourself, and everyone.
When you are healed, you will become a healer.
Tongue is hand is head is path.
Three triangles encipher me, creature of spheres.
I discard the shells and shadows of things, monster of knowledge in the brilliant forest.
Return to the centre: be the sun of the cosmos, shining through everything with joyous splendour and forgiving.
Have you not sensed the purest harmony, the simplest serenity, beyond all this confusion?
Time to come to your senses.
These are the secrets of angels, from the first time.
In your breathing, unite fire and water.
The lightning flash zigzags through the spheres, through the numbered order of creation. The three pillars usher you in. You are the spider’s dream.
You will suffer the mysteries of the body, heal yourself and overcome inertia; Venus will shine on your shoulder, where you awake. The painter’s hand moving is waves of music; the sun transfuses all with soul and beauty. Through the agency of shadows and rainbows, you comprehend the plan. Silence and secrecy are your true friends ; dying thus is but the increase of wisdom ;the inner quest; the amplification of spiritual energies and the revelation of divine inspiration.
The Abyss exists to summon us to love.
So many necessary veils! Into the deep.
Archangels gather in the empyrean of your eye. Honour the temple and hallow the ground: set your feet upon the rolling globe, foursquare under the heavens. Then you can raise a monolith of light.
This life is mine and now.
Come to Mother, come under her skirts.
Leaves,branches,roots : it is all yours.Fire,water,air and earth.
Mystery I need, strangeness I crave : to question, to puzzle, to explore.
Bring the heavens down, earth the heavens through your body, with your feet planted square and your backbone straight.
Everything is telling you to act from the heart, all these energies want to be reconciled, all these moments want to be seen in the round, instantaneous, eternal.
To receive is to reveal.
In your hands is the map of the universe, the union of inner and outer, the rainbow bridge, the means to converse with angels and spirits, the mother of symbols and connections, the essence of forms, colours and sounds.
What is the purpose behind the reason?
This is what maintains me, all my bones, blood, tissue, muscles, lymph and marrow, sensations, thoughts, feelings : the attraction of the earth, the sun, the stars and planets; the attraction of every dust-mote in this room; the resistance of the floor and the pressure of the air.
I spell the universe, sounding the depths with my tongue, ringing out the bells to the limits of time. This is unity, this is love.
O, spheres of the Self, inexhaustible sources! Here am I, above and below the Abyss. Ten magnets attract and repel, masculine and feminine, positive and negative.
I will draw you the symbol of myself, using the dot, the circle, the crescent, the arrow, the horizontal line, the vertical line and the cross.
I am the man of seven altars, seven angels, seven rams, seven trumpets, seven seals, seven deadly sins, seven stars, seven days, seven notes, seven colours, the seven-pointed star.
This is my body, the world. This is the Kingdom: touch, taste, sight, smell, hearing. Now my eyes are open, now they are closed. Everything is happening, all at once. Everyone, even you, must one day pass through the Gate. The Royal Vulva calls you, the Bride awaits her groom.
Let not discrimination and scepticism turn to inertia and avarice.
Your feet feel the earth, your anus tenses.
Blue child, see the splendour. Osiris sits enthroned in the sun.
Feel the unbalance, the disharmony of energies, the grief of the suppressed. It is you who must create yourself and the world. Release and transform the unbalance, and increase knowledge, understanding and wisdom. What will you find on the dark side of the moon ?
I am there for the waxing and waning of the moon, the full moon and the invisible moon; I am there for sunrise and sunset, for midday and midnight. I must fight my way forth to independence, else fall into sloth and stagnation. The penis erect, the clitoris erect ! Pure intelligence sees through to the innards of the cosmos, to the core.
Incense billows with memories, emotions ; the scent of the ritual self. O, astral light, substance of dreams !
I am of the farthest star and the nearest mote.
Connect your heart with the heart of the sun.
You must learn the words, names, verses and spells of magic. The art of mind is my passion. The sounding of each letter of the alphabet vibrates in space. See how the different notes resonated through iron filings draw them into different patterns. These powers, used with love, bring the blessings of the universe; used for ill, they wreak destruction.
What will the chalice pour out for you ? I see Mars in Leo, and Venus in Scorpio, the Moon in Aquarius, and Saturn in Taurus. How you suffer,brwteen unselfishness and lust ! It is wisdom to surrender, to walk around and look at what is there. Enflame yourself, exalt yourself in prayer, in meditiation,,to clarify, control and direct the forces of your very birth. And then you will call the simplest thing ecstasy.
O, beauty, harmony ! – I am the sun at the core of the swirl, the heart around which all revolves. I must seek the balance of attachments, the dancer’s poise. All that matters is devotion to the Great Work, the fulfilment of the True Will, the dialogue with the Holy Guardian Angel.
I am Adam, the first-born, the first blood, the radiant hermaphroditic child, the venerable old king in the shadowy palace. In my hands I grasp the victory of pleasure, the science of success.
Who is this I, ever changing, never sure ? Everywhere I turn, I see reflections, reflections in reflections, reflections of reflections, everywhere. Opening, rising, I begin to sense the pure,permanent,immutable,indestructible self beyond.
Now, this instant, a lightning flash illumines the universe entire,simulutaneous, all dimensions.
Love under Will is the lion whose mane is constellations and whose claws are fire.
Between polarities, I seek the third place, to create the higher triangle.
Witness the head of the serpent spiralling up the Tree, seeking out the crown, unable to break through the veil of the Abyss, reaching no further than Knowledge. You are here at the demon-guarded gate, between the real and the illusory, the ideal and the actual, the potential and the manifest. Above the Abyss all opposites are reconciled; below, all is duality, confusion, horror. There, in the Abyss, dwells the great demon, the disperser of false knowledge, the consumer of consciousness. Beware the demons, the harlots, the shells, the vampires, the ghouls, the destroyers.
The caduceus is given to you : will you choose to ascend or descend? Which will you choose : mysticism or magic?
Seven ways invite the soul : will, love, action, beauty, science, devotion and ritual.
The waves of the Great Sea silently break over me. Saturn and Neptune rise in the heavens, controlling the tides, and my long-dead mother walks towards me in the garden, proffering the lily in her hand. The cup and the wand are yours to wield. The myrrh of the yoni intoxicates me. The Queens of the court come black and mournful. This is your path, to trace the shape of the vesica piscis.
Here is the cup into which you must drain every last drop of your blood, before you may cross the Abyss, and enter the City of the Pyramids.
White brilliance of the Crown, swastika revolving, thousand-petalled lotus, Macroprosopus at the end of Time !
Now the union of the god and goddess, -desire, grace and reality as one, ad the moment of orgasm when the Holy Spirit enters the celebrants.
It is the Veils that clarify and train our eyes.
What do you see under the electron microscope? Only yourself, and everyone.
When you are healed, you will become a healer.
Tongue is hand is head is path.
Three triangles encipher me, creature of spheres.
I discard the shells and shadows of things, monster of knowledge in the brilliant forest.
Return to the centre: be the sun of the cosmos, shining through everything with joyous splendour and forgiving.
Have you not sensed the purest harmony, the simplest serenity, beyond all this confusion?
Time to come to your senses.
These are the secrets of angels, from the first time.
In your breathing, unite fire and water.
The lightning flash zigzags through the spheres, through the numbered order of creation. The three pillars usher you in. You are the spider’s dream.
You will suffer the mysteries of the body, heal yourself and overcome inertia; Venus will shine on your shoulder, where you awake. The painter’s hand moving is waves of music; the sun transfuses all with soul and beauty. Through the agency of shadows and rainbows, you comprehend the plan. Silence and secrecy are your true friends ; dying thus is but the increase of wisdom ;the inner quest; the amplification of spiritual energies and the revelation of divine inspiration.
The Abyss exists to summon us to love.
So many necessary veils! Into the deep.
Archangels gather in the empyrean of your eye. Honour the temple and hallow the ground: set your feet upon the rolling globe, foursquare under the heavens. Then you can raise a monolith of light.
Anatomy Angel
Disgown the fraudulent scholar; defrock the corrupted priest;
Unseat the bad king, traitor to his vows.
You look for my meaning, my biography?
Then look into the noonday sun.
I read you only to re-read you,
Baffled by hermeneutics,
Scrabbling at the bones beneath,
To suck the marrow’s sweet.
Beauty severe and belligerent
Strikes lightning at my tree.
I mark the changes, the seasons of Me,
Lusting for the purest blue.
Laughter is bold as love itself,
Penetrating walls and bones.
What violence have I done to myself,
Thinking my way to be true?
Eccentric’s just another way of saying
That the centre is not where you think.
Up there is down here to me,
In is out, with is without,
Yes is no is maybe,
Echoing in the head.
I beg the wind: show me the new direction,
Include me in your perilous designs.
I am the man whose breaking
Makes a new world whole.
Unseat the bad king, traitor to his vows.
You look for my meaning, my biography?
Then look into the noonday sun.
I read you only to re-read you,
Baffled by hermeneutics,
Scrabbling at the bones beneath,
To suck the marrow’s sweet.
Beauty severe and belligerent
Strikes lightning at my tree.
I mark the changes, the seasons of Me,
Lusting for the purest blue.
Laughter is bold as love itself,
Penetrating walls and bones.
What violence have I done to myself,
Thinking my way to be true?
Eccentric’s just another way of saying
That the centre is not where you think.
Up there is down here to me,
In is out, with is without,
Yes is no is maybe,
Echoing in the head.
I beg the wind: show me the new direction,
Include me in your perilous designs.
I am the man whose breaking
Makes a new world whole.
Black Devotions
The age of saviours,
The age of barbarians:
Vows are made,
Demons are invoked.
Mystify the blood,
Romanticize murder,
Elegise terror,
Exalt apocalypse.
Who are these intruders,
Vile faceless tribes-
Well-poisoners, cattle-rustlers-
Who would steal our fire?
Glove and jackboot,
Hidden eyes:
The black skull grimaces
A killing joke.
Black magic,
Left-handed tantra:
The idiots make cruelty
Their alchemy.
Philosophers and thugs
Join hands and march,
Singing the hymns
Of the clenched fist.
Uncanny and unholy
The killers recite
Their liturgy of blood
For darkling moons.
They speak of evil powers,
Dark forces, secret rites,
And the brute hand falls
With absolute simplicity.
The raised hand flashes
A death’s head ring,
Striking black lightning
Into bedazzled eyes.
In praise of the wolf
The outcasts gather
To turn fear and hatred
Into fabulous worlds.
The age of barbarians:
Vows are made,
Demons are invoked.
Mystify the blood,
Romanticize murder,
Elegise terror,
Exalt apocalypse.
Who are these intruders,
Vile faceless tribes-
Well-poisoners, cattle-rustlers-
Who would steal our fire?
Glove and jackboot,
Hidden eyes:
The black skull grimaces
A killing joke.
Black magic,
Left-handed tantra:
The idiots make cruelty
Their alchemy.
Philosophers and thugs
Join hands and march,
Singing the hymns
Of the clenched fist.
Uncanny and unholy
The killers recite
Their liturgy of blood
For darkling moons.
They speak of evil powers,
Dark forces, secret rites,
And the brute hand falls
With absolute simplicity.
The raised hand flashes
A death’s head ring,
Striking black lightning
Into bedazzled eyes.
In praise of the wolf
The outcasts gather
To turn fear and hatred
Into fabulous worlds.
The Ring and the Grail
See the cross within the ring,
The Holy Grail, the Dew-cup, the sovereign seal;
The Pendragon sups from the chalice of days,
Anointed to die in his time.
The blood of the succession
Glows in the Grail Queen’s womb.
Who will quest for the ring of justice,
And keep the throne’s foundations square?
Kings of Sumeria and pharaohs of Egypt,
Kings of Israel and Persia and afar,
Merovingians and Britons,
He who would misuse the Ring’s power
Will be himself destroyed.
To the Fisher King the faithful
Bring gold, frankincense and myrrh;
Drink the blood from the chalice,
Molten starfire on the tongue.
The Shining Ones return, the mortal angels,
Fairies and elves of the human way,
Winged dragons of the heart.
The king rides in his scaled armour,
Bearing the serpent’s blazon,
Beneath his swan-feather cloak.
The lily’s nectar sustains him;
And the Ladies of the Fountain sing his name.
The lost bride wanders in the wilderness,
The guardian plummets from the lightning-struck tower;
Where then is the underground stream
Whose waters you hear in dreams?
Black bishop, raise your hallowed robe,
Show the world what you conceal.
Sister Mary, Scarlet Woman,
Bless me with the scallop shell;
I will meet you beside the quiet pool.
Dragon Queen, mistress of the deep,
I ,the keeper of the nine rings,
Light my fire from your torch.
Twin serpents coil heavenward
Around the winged staff;
Thus the Swan, commanding the skies!
The bride anoints the groom,
And crowns him king and god.
The Serpent Lady waits in the wildwood,
Among the broom and willow;
The green stag runs among the trees;
The lily and the rose are bound.
Ah, food of the gods, from the womb of the black goddess,
First matter of the alchemists,
Music of the matrix,
Seasons, periods and cycles!
Out of lunar darkness comes the voice,
Storm of white light, purest gold,
And through the mind marches
A torchlight procession of thoughts.
The Holy Grail, the Dew-cup, the sovereign seal;
The Pendragon sups from the chalice of days,
Anointed to die in his time.
The blood of the succession
Glows in the Grail Queen’s womb.
Who will quest for the ring of justice,
And keep the throne’s foundations square?
Kings of Sumeria and pharaohs of Egypt,
Kings of Israel and Persia and afar,
Merovingians and Britons,
He who would misuse the Ring’s power
Will be himself destroyed.
To the Fisher King the faithful
Bring gold, frankincense and myrrh;
Drink the blood from the chalice,
Molten starfire on the tongue.
The Shining Ones return, the mortal angels,
Fairies and elves of the human way,
Winged dragons of the heart.
The king rides in his scaled armour,
Bearing the serpent’s blazon,
Beneath his swan-feather cloak.
The lily’s nectar sustains him;
And the Ladies of the Fountain sing his name.
The lost bride wanders in the wilderness,
The guardian plummets from the lightning-struck tower;
Where then is the underground stream
Whose waters you hear in dreams?
Black bishop, raise your hallowed robe,
Show the world what you conceal.
Sister Mary, Scarlet Woman,
Bless me with the scallop shell;
I will meet you beside the quiet pool.
Dragon Queen, mistress of the deep,
I ,the keeper of the nine rings,
Light my fire from your torch.
Twin serpents coil heavenward
Around the winged staff;
Thus the Swan, commanding the skies!
The bride anoints the groom,
And crowns him king and god.
The Serpent Lady waits in the wildwood,
Among the broom and willow;
The green stag runs among the trees;
The lily and the rose are bound.
Ah, food of the gods, from the womb of the black goddess,
First matter of the alchemists,
Music of the matrix,
Seasons, periods and cycles!
Out of lunar darkness comes the voice,
Storm of white light, purest gold,
And through the mind marches
A torchlight procession of thoughts.
Northern Spain
Rain, elixir of the rising spirit!
A star appears in the Milky Way
And shoots towards the west;
Lord of Thirteen, live the zodiac,
Egypt of the spiral soul.
It is time for the Goose Game,
For the bridge, the inn, the dice, the well,
The labyrinth, the prison, the gateway, and death.
Isis, bless the way!
Before the revelation is the tomb.
Dust blows round the half-finished cathedral;
Blood shines on the sword.
The giants whirl in a minuet,
Kings and queens with swirling skirts,
And a rocket goes up as the first bull is loosed;
At night fireworks burst over the citadel
And the maddened fire bull chases children down the street.
Midnight is a candle in the hand
And a sad song’s consecration.
The damned laugh, and Christ looks on with subtle smile;
The three Marys hold hands beneath the Cross;
Judas hangs from a fruitful branch.
The Master Carpenter comes to build a church
In the name of Lazarus, nailing his love to the sky.
The wolf waits on the hillside.
On the day of the spring equinox a sunbeam
Strikes the womb of the Virgin of the Annunciation.
We shall build a cathedral of stone and light.
One morning, listening to the song of a bird,
The monk fell into ecstasy
And saw into eternity,
And though to him it seemed but a moment
When he awoke many centuries had passed.
O,five stars and a crescent moon!-
A stone serpent coils in the font,
The naked woman suckles serpents, with lions on either side,
The twins hold hands beneath the rainbow.
The triple spiral staircase rises,
Granite stairways interlacing in a single tower,
Each leading to a different door.
A star appears in the Milky Way
And shoots towards the west;
Lord of Thirteen, live the zodiac,
Egypt of the spiral soul.
It is time for the Goose Game,
For the bridge, the inn, the dice, the well,
The labyrinth, the prison, the gateway, and death.
Isis, bless the way!
Before the revelation is the tomb.
Dust blows round the half-finished cathedral;
Blood shines on the sword.
The giants whirl in a minuet,
Kings and queens with swirling skirts,
And a rocket goes up as the first bull is loosed;
At night fireworks burst over the citadel
And the maddened fire bull chases children down the street.
Midnight is a candle in the hand
And a sad song’s consecration.
The damned laugh, and Christ looks on with subtle smile;
The three Marys hold hands beneath the Cross;
Judas hangs from a fruitful branch.
The Master Carpenter comes to build a church
In the name of Lazarus, nailing his love to the sky.
The wolf waits on the hillside.
On the day of the spring equinox a sunbeam
Strikes the womb of the Virgin of the Annunciation.
We shall build a cathedral of stone and light.
One morning, listening to the song of a bird,
The monk fell into ecstasy
And saw into eternity,
And though to him it seemed but a moment
When he awoke many centuries had passed.
O,five stars and a crescent moon!-
A stone serpent coils in the font,
The naked woman suckles serpents, with lions on either side,
The twins hold hands beneath the rainbow.
The triple spiral staircase rises,
Granite stairways interlacing in a single tower,
Each leading to a different door.
Western Alchemy
Consider these signs:
That which dissolves is spirit,
That which coagulates is body.
A spirit can enter a body
To attenuate and clarify.
Sulphur and mercury,
Two substances with one essence,
The serpent with wings
And the serpent without,
One holding in his mouth
The other’s tail.
Sophic fire
Penetrates and destroys all things,
Transmutes the feculent
Into perfect spirit.
O water, true spirit,
Illuminating and sweet,
Bitter and obscure,
Strengthen us until the day of death.
In the caverns of metals
Is hidden the bright stone,
A mind sublime,
An open sea.
The king and queen
Bathe together in the fountain.
How many times
The philosopher’s ship
Is dashed against the capharean rock,
Wrecked and lost forever!
White is from black,
Purity from corruption.
The vulture and the toad
Are magisters both.
Purge yourself
With degrees of fire,
See true whiteness
Shining like a sword.
The green lion may devour
The sun, but you bide
With stars and seasons,
Coming into your own.
That which dissolves is spirit,
That which coagulates is body.
A spirit can enter a body
To attenuate and clarify.
Sulphur and mercury,
Two substances with one essence,
The serpent with wings
And the serpent without,
One holding in his mouth
The other’s tail.
Sophic fire
Penetrates and destroys all things,
Transmutes the feculent
Into perfect spirit.
O water, true spirit,
Illuminating and sweet,
Bitter and obscure,
Strengthen us until the day of death.
In the caverns of metals
Is hidden the bright stone,
A mind sublime,
An open sea.
The king and queen
Bathe together in the fountain.
How many times
The philosopher’s ship
Is dashed against the capharean rock,
Wrecked and lost forever!
White is from black,
Purity from corruption.
The vulture and the toad
Are magisters both.
Purge yourself
With degrees of fire,
See true whiteness
Shining like a sword.
The green lion may devour
The sun, but you bide
With stars and seasons,
Coming into your own.
From a Hotel Window (The Operative Fiction)
Black angel of routine,
Cover me with unholy wings.
I am guilty and impure,
Absolve me.
What should I do?
Saddle up and ride across Mongolia
In search of Agartha
And the King of the World;
Stumble round Paris with a guidebook,
Root out the rue Nicolas Flamel
And search for signs…
Do you see him,
The serpent Nechushtan,
Coiled about the Tree,
His tail in his mouth?
How can the mind’s restless energy
Comprehend the stillness of bliss?
“You’re welcome,” grins the Devil,
“The first lesson is free.”
This loneliness
Is like missing someone I have never met
Or perhaps met only once
And briefly.
Cover me with unholy wings.
I am guilty and impure,
Absolve me.
What should I do?
Saddle up and ride across Mongolia
In search of Agartha
And the King of the World;
Stumble round Paris with a guidebook,
Root out the rue Nicolas Flamel
And search for signs…
Do you see him,
The serpent Nechushtan,
Coiled about the Tree,
His tail in his mouth?
How can the mind’s restless energy
Comprehend the stillness of bliss?
“You’re welcome,” grins the Devil,
“The first lesson is free.”
This loneliness
Is like missing someone I have never met
Or perhaps met only once
And briefly.
A Lick and a Promise
Shoot your wad, roll over, fart and fall asleep.
That was the acme, the efflorescence
Of life, the best of the flesh and its follies.
There you go again,
Like a chimpanzee poking a stick
Into a bees’ nest
To get at the honey.
Red or blue?
Home or away?
Bus or train?
Up or down?
I can neither cure the sick
Nor heal the lame.
But I can love you,
I think I can love you.
Separation,
Have you come for me again?
Absence,
Do you favour me so much?
Other moments,
Other days,
Wait for me somewhere.
That was the acme, the efflorescence
Of life, the best of the flesh and its follies.
There you go again,
Like a chimpanzee poking a stick
Into a bees’ nest
To get at the honey.
Red or blue?
Home or away?
Bus or train?
Up or down?
I can neither cure the sick
Nor heal the lame.
But I can love you,
I think I can love you.
Separation,
Have you come for me again?
Absence,
Do you favour me so much?
Other moments,
Other days,
Wait for me somewhere.
The Girl and the Goldfish
Once upon a time there were three little goldfish,
Voyagers in a murky sea:
Desdemona, rightly, was the first to die,
Flushed down the toilet with scarcely a sigh;
But then Iago, forgetting his role,
Stepped out of turn and surrendered his soul;
That left Othello, bewildered and lonely,
Burbling fishy soliloquies
Through figures of eight.
She was telling herself the same old stories,
Alone in her head, with the same old stories,
Adding new details now and then,
Not wanting those stories to end.
“You wouldn’t even think of buying tomatoes now,
Not at this time of year,
Not in Poland,” she cried,
“I thought that was my home.
I thought he loved me.”
One summer’s day,
She stripped down to her underwear
And swam like a platypus
In the shining lake,
Quite drunk.
Winter came
And the Snow Queen
Rode her golden sleigh
Across the sky,
Wrapped in ermine
With jewels on her fingers.
She was chanting, dancing,
Whirling in the crowd,
Invincible Catherine Wheel,
Martyr to light and sound.
Some days she painted her fingernails.
Some days she did not.
The shade was always chocolate brown.
On her wall
Were a dozen museum tickets
Pinned up like butterflies.
On the dressing table,
Doubled in the mirror,
Lay a broken-backed Jane Eyre.
Othello swam on for a year or two,
Then he too vanished down the loo.
Voyagers in a murky sea:
Desdemona, rightly, was the first to die,
Flushed down the toilet with scarcely a sigh;
But then Iago, forgetting his role,
Stepped out of turn and surrendered his soul;
That left Othello, bewildered and lonely,
Burbling fishy soliloquies
Through figures of eight.
She was telling herself the same old stories,
Alone in her head, with the same old stories,
Adding new details now and then,
Not wanting those stories to end.
“You wouldn’t even think of buying tomatoes now,
Not at this time of year,
Not in Poland,” she cried,
“I thought that was my home.
I thought he loved me.”
One summer’s day,
She stripped down to her underwear
And swam like a platypus
In the shining lake,
Quite drunk.
Winter came
And the Snow Queen
Rode her golden sleigh
Across the sky,
Wrapped in ermine
With jewels on her fingers.
She was chanting, dancing,
Whirling in the crowd,
Invincible Catherine Wheel,
Martyr to light and sound.
Some days she painted her fingernails.
Some days she did not.
The shade was always chocolate brown.
On her wall
Were a dozen museum tickets
Pinned up like butterflies.
On the dressing table,
Doubled in the mirror,
Lay a broken-backed Jane Eyre.
Othello swam on for a year or two,
Then he too vanished down the loo.
The Practice of Mirth
I will paint your face
Into my fresco,
Sacra conversazione
In black and gold.
Who believes in saints these days?
Who puts their faith in angels?
I, holy fool
With unholy fingers.
Confusion’s riches win
The sky’s abyss;
The anti-pope’s damask
I don with a grin.
Into my fresco,
Sacra conversazione
In black and gold.
Who believes in saints these days?
Who puts their faith in angels?
I, holy fool
With unholy fingers.
Confusion’s riches win
The sky’s abyss;
The anti-pope’s damask
I don with a grin.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Rimini
Tempus loquendi,tempus tacendi
Inscription in the Malatesta Temple,Rimini
Will the elephant tell his secrets, out of the east?
Will the circling stars devolve their powers upon us?
Fortune-teller, turn the next card.
Here comes Gemistos Plethon, the noble Byzantine,
Smuggling wisdom and magic under his cloak,
Thrice-great as Hermes himself;
Ficino and Mirandola are as his familiars,
Two black cats walking on tiptoe.
I see them all walking in the streets of Rimini:
Moses, Orpheus, Pythagoras, Plato and Christ,
Commanding stars, stones, plants, symbols and places.
The artist makes his heart a talisman,
Conjuring spirits, good and ill, into matter,
Fashioning models of the universe.
The Temple is a mystery that the soul
May solve at last only in solving itself;
Dreams and doctrines lure you on,
Apotheosis or anathema your destination.
Cults and sects muster their faithful for the reckoning,
False prophets stalk the streets, crying their wares,
The hidden hand makes moves on the chessboard.
See Sirius rising over the Adriatic:
Philosophers and artists, like the Sabeans of Harran,
Build pyramids of images to the stars,
Pharaohs on golden barques ascending.
Sigismondo Malatesta returns from Greece, defeated,
To his bankrupt city, surrounded by foes,
Having lost his last chance to save himself,
Bringing home the dug-up body of Gemistos Plethon
To bury him with honours in his Temple,
Beneath the claws of the Crab.
These stones are a zodiac unto itself,
Grand enchantment for initiates’ eyes,
Drawing me as a bird to a snake,
To fathom the fathomless, trusting to find
In history reason, in death resurrection.
How many ghosts infest this weird city,
Parading their torments and terrors through the mind,
Running wild in the streets’ grimoire?
By day the sun burns like a witch’s pyre,
Like Eucharist on an excommunicant’s tongue;
Then shadowed moon presides over a séance,
Speaking in the mingled voices of the dead.
Night’s fool, I seek the Muse in bodies,
Intoxicated by the smell of women and the sea,
Dancing in a carnival crowd of skeletons,
Till dawn melts my bones down to mercury
And drips me onto mirrors, into the abyss.
Inscription in the Malatesta Temple,Rimini
Will the elephant tell his secrets, out of the east?
Will the circling stars devolve their powers upon us?
Fortune-teller, turn the next card.
Here comes Gemistos Plethon, the noble Byzantine,
Smuggling wisdom and magic under his cloak,
Thrice-great as Hermes himself;
Ficino and Mirandola are as his familiars,
Two black cats walking on tiptoe.
I see them all walking in the streets of Rimini:
Moses, Orpheus, Pythagoras, Plato and Christ,
Commanding stars, stones, plants, symbols and places.
The artist makes his heart a talisman,
Conjuring spirits, good and ill, into matter,
Fashioning models of the universe.
The Temple is a mystery that the soul
May solve at last only in solving itself;
Dreams and doctrines lure you on,
Apotheosis or anathema your destination.
Cults and sects muster their faithful for the reckoning,
False prophets stalk the streets, crying their wares,
The hidden hand makes moves on the chessboard.
See Sirius rising over the Adriatic:
Philosophers and artists, like the Sabeans of Harran,
Build pyramids of images to the stars,
Pharaohs on golden barques ascending.
Sigismondo Malatesta returns from Greece, defeated,
To his bankrupt city, surrounded by foes,
Having lost his last chance to save himself,
Bringing home the dug-up body of Gemistos Plethon
To bury him with honours in his Temple,
Beneath the claws of the Crab.
These stones are a zodiac unto itself,
Grand enchantment for initiates’ eyes,
Drawing me as a bird to a snake,
To fathom the fathomless, trusting to find
In history reason, in death resurrection.
How many ghosts infest this weird city,
Parading their torments and terrors through the mind,
Running wild in the streets’ grimoire?
By day the sun burns like a witch’s pyre,
Like Eucharist on an excommunicant’s tongue;
Then shadowed moon presides over a séance,
Speaking in the mingled voices of the dead.
Night’s fool, I seek the Muse in bodies,
Intoxicated by the smell of women and the sea,
Dancing in a carnival crowd of skeletons,
Till dawn melts my bones down to mercury
And drips me onto mirrors, into the abyss.
Addict
Let me suffer and come clean,
Let me confess through my skin, through the pores,
Break through the bad dream.
Suffer for purity, for love, for compassion,
Suffer to feel, to sense, to know,
And be wise, as you once were,
Before you had ever heard of wisdom.
This pain you complain of
Is the laughter of the gods,
This pain means you are human.
Let me confess through my skin, through the pores,
Break through the bad dream.
Suffer for purity, for love, for compassion,
Suffer to feel, to sense, to know,
And be wise, as you once were,
Before you had ever heard of wisdom.
This pain you complain of
Is the laughter of the gods,
This pain means you are human.
Hello Again
Wherever you are now, I am with you still,
Up to my old tricks, eager to learn new ones…
Maybe there are higher forces after all!
To hell with life!-I’m unrepentant, unreformed.
From you I somehow never recovered;
The virus was treated, yet inexplicably lingers on,
Evolving new strains to perpetuate the dream
That might have even made me a better man.
Up to my old tricks, eager to learn new ones…
Maybe there are higher forces after all!
To hell with life!-I’m unrepentant, unreformed.
From you I somehow never recovered;
The virus was treated, yet inexplicably lingers on,
Evolving new strains to perpetuate the dream
That might have even made me a better man.
Ciao, Bella!
Black cats, lithe and slender, how proudly
You prance, the dazzled streets your habitat,
Flouncing through life with immaculate grace,
Elegance your weapon against misfortune.
Commedia dell’arte of the teeming piazza!
Columbine’s wiles turn the world on its head.
Superstition seethes under the paving stones
Whereon new shoes execute the passegiata.
No surface escapes the mirror’s verdict;
The will to be beautiful squeezes every purse;
Mannequin poses arrange the world thus,
Magnetic fields of attraction and repulsion.
You prance, the dazzled streets your habitat,
Flouncing through life with immaculate grace,
Elegance your weapon against misfortune.
Commedia dell’arte of the teeming piazza!
Columbine’s wiles turn the world on its head.
Superstition seethes under the paving stones
Whereon new shoes execute the passegiata.
No surface escapes the mirror’s verdict;
The will to be beautiful squeezes every purse;
Mannequin poses arrange the world thus,
Magnetic fields of attraction and repulsion.
Above and Beyond
Let the vision arrive,
And go free.
Who desires to repress and ridicule us?
Who demands our incarceration?
Who sends out the troops to kill us?
Who wars against the truth?
I claim my medicine, my adventure,
the peril and the exaltation of my birth,
I invoke the way of angels and demons,
I rescue myself from the deep.
Whatever is the world,
I will see it with my own eyes,
The ineffable, the unknown.
To be a man, not a ghost,is my ambition,
To know, not to believe,
To live, not merely exist,
To be and not to have.
Let the spirit fetch and guide me,
Explore and transform me,
Annihilate me and bring me forth.
Spiralling plant forms and geometries dancing,
Auroras of music,
Miracles of memory theatre!
I follow myself from conception
Through simultaneous dimensions of being,
Self-shapes, ever-growing, ever-changing,
Endless revelry of forms.
Supreme intelligence
Courses through me,
All my bones, tissues, organs, nerves and processes,
Scanning and correcting errors, repairing the damage,
I watch my mind’s nuclear reactions,
Subatomic explosions and drifting clouds,
The functioning of the machine.
O, spirit, have you come to show me
My destiny,
The destiny of the world?
Hieroglyphs, patterns swarm in the air,
Pharaonic gateways to other realms,
The terror,the majesty
Of spiralling outward and inward
Into alien space,
All spirit matter pulsing with harmonics,
Pure mathematics, pure language.
And go free.
Who desires to repress and ridicule us?
Who demands our incarceration?
Who sends out the troops to kill us?
Who wars against the truth?
I claim my medicine, my adventure,
the peril and the exaltation of my birth,
I invoke the way of angels and demons,
I rescue myself from the deep.
Whatever is the world,
I will see it with my own eyes,
The ineffable, the unknown.
To be a man, not a ghost,is my ambition,
To know, not to believe,
To live, not merely exist,
To be and not to have.
Let the spirit fetch and guide me,
Explore and transform me,
Annihilate me and bring me forth.
Spiralling plant forms and geometries dancing,
Auroras of music,
Miracles of memory theatre!
I follow myself from conception
Through simultaneous dimensions of being,
Self-shapes, ever-growing, ever-changing,
Endless revelry of forms.
Supreme intelligence
Courses through me,
All my bones, tissues, organs, nerves and processes,
Scanning and correcting errors, repairing the damage,
I watch my mind’s nuclear reactions,
Subatomic explosions and drifting clouds,
The functioning of the machine.
O, spirit, have you come to show me
My destiny,
The destiny of the world?
Hieroglyphs, patterns swarm in the air,
Pharaonic gateways to other realms,
The terror,the majesty
Of spiralling outward and inward
Into alien space,
All spirit matter pulsing with harmonics,
Pure mathematics, pure language.
Túcume, Peru
Spirits and demons infest the red hills
Where shamans, good and evil, contend;
Dead men’s incense clouds the sunset
Conquerors’ hymns fuel the high pyres.
Great city of pyramids, I come in peace,
With lapis lazuli and spondylus shells,
Where great balsa rafts catch the wind
And sail out to sea along royal canals.
The potter’s hands contain a universe,
Emptiness the substance they shape.
When pest and deluge blight the land,
The last Inca lord’s bright skull will sing
With prophet’s tongue,among the sands,
And his giant shadow walk in the storm.
What power have empires and thrones
Against the true word well spoken?
We come to this place to be reminded
Of what our hearts have always known.
The sacred stone tilts true on its axis
At the city entrance,in the solar temple;
My own dead bones I bury there, clad
In rich cloths, out of mercy and sorrow,
Then turn away through the bright gates,
Out into the desert, into the man to come.
Where shamans, good and evil, contend;
Dead men’s incense clouds the sunset
Conquerors’ hymns fuel the high pyres.
Great city of pyramids, I come in peace,
With lapis lazuli and spondylus shells,
Where great balsa rafts catch the wind
And sail out to sea along royal canals.
The potter’s hands contain a universe,
Emptiness the substance they shape.
When pest and deluge blight the land,
The last Inca lord’s bright skull will sing
With prophet’s tongue,among the sands,
And his giant shadow walk in the storm.
What power have empires and thrones
Against the true word well spoken?
We come to this place to be reminded
Of what our hearts have always known.
The sacred stone tilts true on its axis
At the city entrance,in the solar temple;
My own dead bones I bury there, clad
In rich cloths, out of mercy and sorrow,
Then turn away through the bright gates,
Out into the desert, into the man to come.
Vermeer (1632-1675)
See what appears within the camera obscura:
A silhouette, a man, somewhere off to the side,
Not too well defined.
He is watching,
Patiently attending the light.
The moment is anticipated,
It drops by,barely noticed,and sidles off.
And all is quiet.
Meticulous hands are sifting,crafting,
Spying the unseen.
This watery business called living,
Might it not be,actually,all optical effects,
An angels’ fanfare on the retina?
The rapt eye knows no rest,
Adjusting shapes and sizes
To make them fit.
We need only atmospheres
To give ourselves airs,
Ineffable yearnings,and the like.
Tones and nuances
Tincture the soul,
As if there could be radiance
Suddenly,silently.
It is all in the light,
Or it is the light,
Those ultimate discretions
Whose filigree limns us,
Oblivious to time.
We find ourselves refracted and reflected.
This composition you live in
Turns out to be a mood.
A silhouette, a man, somewhere off to the side,
Not too well defined.
He is watching,
Patiently attending the light.
The moment is anticipated,
It drops by,barely noticed,and sidles off.
And all is quiet.
Meticulous hands are sifting,crafting,
Spying the unseen.
This watery business called living,
Might it not be,actually,all optical effects,
An angels’ fanfare on the retina?
The rapt eye knows no rest,
Adjusting shapes and sizes
To make them fit.
We need only atmospheres
To give ourselves airs,
Ineffable yearnings,and the like.
Tones and nuances
Tincture the soul,
As if there could be radiance
Suddenly,silently.
It is all in the light,
Or it is the light,
Those ultimate discretions
Whose filigree limns us,
Oblivious to time.
We find ourselves refracted and reflected.
This composition you live in
Turns out to be a mood.
Against Salvation
“Why do you strive against your own salvation to find death in love?”
Pseudo-Titus
Some do not want to be saved,
But to feel the night on their skins,
And the cowled moon,
Telling the rosary of the blood.
You may know us by our wounds:
Pain, the mason’s mark,
Seals our hearts’ Etruscan tombs.
So let wry flautists serenade
The symposiasts of the afterlife,
Reclining on scarlet couches
In the cypresses’ dark shade.
Husband will be laid with wife,
Alabaster mummies etched
True to the love they embodied,
The dance they dared in life.
Pseudo-Titus
Some do not want to be saved,
But to feel the night on their skins,
And the cowled moon,
Telling the rosary of the blood.
You may know us by our wounds:
Pain, the mason’s mark,
Seals our hearts’ Etruscan tombs.
So let wry flautists serenade
The symposiasts of the afterlife,
Reclining on scarlet couches
In the cypresses’ dark shade.
Husband will be laid with wife,
Alabaster mummies etched
True to the love they embodied,
The dance they dared in life.
Meeting Natasha
Mercury falling,
Red dragon streak,
Ice-splinter
Piercing the heart.
Moscow crouched like a jaguar
Under the Amazon’s eyelids,
Sweating rainbows.
We sat in the café,
Opposite sides of the table,
Chess players plotting our moves
To the beat of the clock.
“Where is the sense?” she said,
“Where is the meaning?”
I stirred my tea
And stared into silence.
Her coat hung on the hook behind me,
A giant vampire bat
Dreaming upside-down,
And we talked,
We talked about life,
As if it was something we could change.
Red dragon streak,
Ice-splinter
Piercing the heart.
Moscow crouched like a jaguar
Under the Amazon’s eyelids,
Sweating rainbows.
We sat in the café,
Opposite sides of the table,
Chess players plotting our moves
To the beat of the clock.
“Where is the sense?” she said,
“Where is the meaning?”
I stirred my tea
And stared into silence.
Her coat hung on the hook behind me,
A giant vampire bat
Dreaming upside-down,
And we talked,
We talked about life,
As if it was something we could change.
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