Thursday, June 15, 2017

Adam's Bath

ADAM’S BATH
winds are lit within the sun
and wind through the sheen of things
which sheen discloses light alone
and the winding salt of sight’s corridors
spiral deep to the still lake
That I may climb and find relief
      where sight lives, and speaks things
the raw trees of speech
articulate branches
of the Law,
    That I may climb and find relief
no more hand to get between 
Christ was compared and united with the stone
two naked suns
    two winds disappearing
  I want to hear my voice
the anthropos
    not reincarnated but whose measure is my own
to dissolve my body in its senses,
  two winds dissolve in resolution
αποκαταστασιν πολuκρονιον
Christ was compared and united with the stone
long lasting restitution of things
find the measure anew
where the body’s temple remembers
rotund Falconetti,
herds of antelope a friend’s hand
our true form
the line remembered
the speaks my own
vindictive Yahweh
into the God of Love of the New
The Christ-lapis projected into matter
matter with its magical fascination
threnody for the lost god
that is the god’s calling
from the disappearance of distinction.
***
Ishtar’s lament for Tammuz
      ‘for the far removed there is wailing’
she is dissolved with him in the bath
                    she is the bath itself
the fiery sea the king cannot endure,
            she is the fiery image
of myself dissolved in her
united with the stone
the lapis full of voices,
dust from the four corners of the earth
when the earth refused to provide for Adam
black white and red earth from the angel of death
Adam, because of his perfection
must have had a knowledge of all natural things
in Arabian tradition Shîth (Seth) learnt medicine from him
as he lay, still inanimate, in the ground
(as we watched, Adam, asleep in the miracle play)
Seth (Shining Star, Sirius) learnt medicine,
Seth, Ishtar, Isis, The Star, 
ex nocturno seminis fluxu
from the sleeping Star Adam
Seth learnt medicine, ate the lettuce covered in semen, 
ate Ishtar who killed Tammuz; 
Isis who gathered up Osiris:
The Star Seth and The Star Adam
the fiery image of myself dissolved in her
Sirius, The sun behind the sun
the sense of rhythm is the distribution of: recuperated in this
bath of alergens the wind tunnel
  leaves at my doorstep
ex nocturno seminis fluxu
dust of the earth wailing
          Adam taught me asthma
body’s wail for the far removed
Argentum Astrum, the far removed
disappearance of distinction. But, How far is far, if you can think it?

I think of her when I’m about to die.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

hieroglyphs continued

3.
Patterns issue from the mirror I try to be
goat footed box I track through the letters
through the animal dimension it is a wheel
you can hear still pouring through this alter
I mean this string I hold, the wellspring
Pans cascade through my privatized topology
to rebuke me for making the world
when it’s self I should be listening for
not training vines to grow up the light’s legs
while a flowering sky offers itself as an axehandle
to the snake that ties handles in bundles
that leave me messages at my mother’s shores.


4.
See what gathers and deduce the number
to find which two places I am at once
all my pans bow to Pan the random
their voices polish his resonant ewer
spindles turned true through abstract yarn
work awake whatever’s inside this bottle
fishy seeds to come imagine my soul
weight in the world calling my goose to bear
as if somebody were in search of a lamp
iron in your pocket to bring the children back
cast their broken hooks in the maternal oven
and untie your dolphin from the red ribbon at last.



5.
The images are tethered by a silent observance
bones ring in resonant boxes
each of them facing what they call north
the roar of Typhonian waters
through the orb of a plucked string
their grammar binds in my little ears
the wide sounds in which the tall ghost walks
a goose pulling an anchor by a red ribbon
grabs my hand with his neck permissive light
green wood tied to corroded ore
above and below both dangerously entwined
a dead dolphin for my trusty weathervane. 

6.
Consonants thresholds bones
keening towards their mysterious owner
chicory fleabane roadside asters
I open my small mouth onto all waters
learning their thread, fate, measures
that tie me to the ocean’s brother
fish bearing palm fronds peregrini
goose dredging your lost anchor up
by the light of the lord’s stolen lamp
things are tied to the will to find them
holy tools the snake brings to mind
in whose shadows reach blood’s tethers.





7.
A skull whose hair can work the fields
into a seen fire
of petals that thrill my imagination
its reflection in this wise water
stored away within each wave
until at last the water is silent is you
no reflection but direct report
no distance between my anchor and the goose
whose soft thin neck strangles me
iron leaves bending my young green stem
my flowers tell you I’m not from here
how the light from your sea came to die in my hands.


8.
The first is always the hardest
folk wisdom theology bird born from eye
multiplication will teach me everyone else
a pitcher with each time a different drink
that say truly I am not to be trusted
under the decorative twine of parochial grammar
suppressed formulations undermine our power
this logos I wave this fake anchor
only big enough to tell a bird’s lies
before the olive sprig handle crumbles
and lets the gates of the celestial palace down
to regain animal and thingly speech.






9.
This tape is a recording of the sutures of a skull
mesh of wood and geometry we are
knowing too much in our curves
wounds healed with memories like water
never letting go this ball of thread
that ties me closed as it comes
we accrue a fate begin the bible again
while words tremble to begin in us, their fate
and for some reason still take us in
to work crappy ore from the flowering branch
Kircher knew still shows the organization of the plant
a holy Kabbalah in my evil stories.


10.
From here deduce the rest
what language wants to say
the hour’s hexagram
archetypes rush in to be organized
their jumbled spears in the water
that dutifully files them away
I too am just a calcination of soul
this salt I call my own
anima mundi will one day reclaim
soluble like language on its way to begin
unconcerned with our complexity
but the consubstantiation of flesh and what it wants.






11.
Order I conjure from the so called random
order, Thoth, my own disharmony procreates
to espouse my cause within the world
we create in this house eloquent fiefdom
of effect radiant seeming
seals refract through emptiness
white Manjusri pre-teen under white sheet
imagination releases through the seen
creator of seen and unseen I dare imagine
Nicean flowers eating their iron branch
eat of the secrets whispered by the road
where you meet your own body traveling home.

12.
What happens when you walk up to a cup of water
rain collected in skull what did you see today
the water mistakes me for one of its hundred brothers
and I fill up my pitcher each weft
day is collected 
and I preserve the secret medicine
Galen knew context is the study of the soul
where to whisper in our home to change
the world we ail, unsay us against
the balance of forces that drive me to speech
unsay my seeing from the weft
year by year wearing out the shore of things.



***
Now that I'm done I think goal was to give each image a range of possible meanings across the 12 sonnets, and in the 12 lines of each sonnet propose a reading of the series, so various proposals for meanings would resonate all at once, not serially but with a sidewindering reach throughout the whole: that in the midst of meanings the image might hover, gesturing, iridescent. 

Sunday, June 4, 2017

A translation of hieroglyphs from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili



A translation of hieroglyphs from the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili:

1.
Bound ox offering of the king
the vulture and the eye syllable
held within the lodge of mouth
as the priest washes his hands
in the thread that runs between them
and ties the vessel shut
a grammar to trap the god and make king strong
an anchor tied to a goose
your hands strangle but discover a lamp
a window fastened to the flowering olive-branch
to see the birds in there fly up and down
the intracellular weft of all that’s seen.

2.
Lumbering aleph these chords binds
that issue from the box beneath the fire
that here form basins, pools, names
through which the priests carefully pour
learning their thread, fate, measure
geometry that traps us like demons
to explain again this familiar shape
my goose tied to the anchor
in order to light the rest of me
the little tree behind these copper leaves
that steals your tools

to work a death beyond our treasure.

Thursday, May 25, 2017

Le Point Noir (Nerval)

LE POINT NOIR Gérard de Nerval

Whose sights are fixed against the sun
beholds begetting before his eyes flying obstinately
about him, in the air a livid spot.

Thus, all youth and some audacity
upon the glory an instant I dared to fix my eyes:
a point black remains in my greedy sight.

***
Quiconque before name
the helper audacity fixed his eyes
Sur la glorie, against the sun.

Who is Adam androgyne? The shallow mirror of total youth
where livid shadows increase, the shadows of leaves
where I fix my eyes through his greed of sight.

***
Since then, combatting with all like a sign of grief,
everywhere, at some place where order may rest my eye,
I see it pose itself, the dot noire!

***
Signatures that are his grief and a grace
everywhere, the shadows of the leaves are a mask
that imposes new orders for a music.


***
What, forever! Constantly betwixt me and happiness?
Oh! It is the eagle alone– misfortune with us! misfortune!
who contemplates with impunity le Soliel et la Gloire.

***
The tracks of the walking tree impose themselves 
only your eagle can read, this shadow we call splendor:
He riseth up and goeth down in the tree of the sun.


Sunday, May 21, 2017

Gem Panning

GEM PANNING
for Lila
Gem panning
your once dream
swish and sieve
hips wise arms wide
the rhythm of the act
is the rhythm of desire;

an image of what we
look like when we think
we look like something,
is the image, truest of all
gem laden mixture with
the world that is our love making.

Slanderer magic lantern man
I was once a teenage girl too
incense, aromatic herbs
I invoked long-winged baneful Dream
worker of slackened muscle
laying the tracks of the cows of the sun.

It’s not sleep we really want
not nothing but lord of all
that brings delight into activity
opposite of the soul’s energy
someone who knows better
their body there in all I do.

The birds cross in their quest
whatever it is I had to say
happy just to hear these syllables
salad, Horus, seeds for breakfast
I’m making it up but it’s really there
and you know it too now, bare meaning

delight in all that moves
nourishment runs to my thirsty bones
swift winds of the lower air
I mean wave giving birth to fish
thought giving birth to thing
and You, confederate, alchemist.


Together we can move one sleep to the next
dream tasked to define these terms
while its words slowly burn away
light for us to see, ourselves
lights stumbling on this dark field
scintillant jointure of minds on brain.

Hawks dung, salt, wine
anoint your phallus, excellent
dung of a hyena with oil of roses
breakfast at noon in the total sky
while cars flutter down the street
the secret to change is nothing has changed.

The wave is the description of a circle in time
thrushes come, wise to light’s drift
weep! weep! my car brought me here
to imagine universal sentences
more complex as you look
obvious as hieroglyphs

the dwarf god Bes lets you in
syntax swinging hermetic order
that sees itself in music’s pattern
another rash tree like myself
poor life tries to understand itself with
the Khyber pass lies open before us.

I’m trying to tell our destruction 
the black flower that faces the sun
but my number pours water
on the hieroglyphs of Venus Sekhmet
protector of kings, from the body
of Osiris Aphrodite is born

the pieces are lifted up
into orders upon orders
the simplifying face I cannot see
but you can hear below
the void of my sight my evil love
singularity’s hermetic grief.

Now what have I claimed my own
in this foolish quest to be remembered
rogue alien scouts war
on the submerged heads of their effigies
just look at the shape of the land
animals the clouds tell overhead.

Each word breaks my heart
and I heal it with the next
teach forget-me-nots to the bees
friends in paradise
there’s still news to bring
‘their very memory fair and bright’

the words we are that guide
by compassion into greater meaning
this poor boy to Hekate
the womb that holds divine intellect
levitated shadow
seed planted to make the past.

Desire, rhythm
the images that catch
I call them me,
shine of fire, salamander, gem
body sieves from its goddess waves,
whirring music before words.

Then it’s the best I can do
rugs and chairs against the wall
bring geometry back to number
a room of bees and glass
and other bones, the carriage
of the space of all you’ll do


the angel whispered 
to the other angel
across the strings a rumor
I heard of this skeleton horse
I guess the angel is my dream
the hand beyond the universe

my hand that stirs within my hand
to frighten the poor animal ground 
so you can see the sea again
wearing a crown of us irascible jewels
while we still remember these burning names
the moon caught in a thousand puddles.

I solved my problem just before waking
but now I can’t remember what it was
no token left for day, only this diamond 
with which Bacchus fought Perseus
Venus’ stone, that could kill even Zeus
this empty weapon of the center.

Today lynxes bury their urine
like amber, like lightning, Pliny says
to keep it from men
the hieroglyphs evaporate
once the priest has poured water over them
that leave salt in the lower kingdom.

Open the door all the birds are here
let us go a-maying
come now, slug-a-bed,
we wake the crown inside
this noisy church 
of wing and leaf light.

Then I remember to my shame
my mother named me Gabritius
and return to her Isis χημεία
gathered together cut apart
destroyer redemptrix I come to you
as my Persian forefathers have done


I lead the scattered chariot
and its pooled reflection
the chariot of the moon its thousand names
Isis is actually my evil brother
presiding over lions and Allah; but not Lila
night, where these dreams sing me awake.

See Bannerman’s broken castle is gone
but then why are we still holding hands
nothing is over yet o dear
look how green it is tonight
color is indirect light, le cri de merlin
you can hear still in these very woods.

See my home is gone
not much to do with relativity
see my number pours the water
that delivers the coessential beings
from this empty picture of being
numbers slice through her black and white house

suspect green things
where you can still hear the howl
that might have been me
if we can trust the likes of breath
dangerously unconcerned for the gems
that get caught in the numbers’ sieves. 

This talk is just what I think I’m doing
in the hopes that you’ll stop listening
and climb with me down this music
through the coincident frequencies of color
dip under this wave wide as horizon
into anonymous breath before desire.

I say this stuff to keep your mind clear
true spring in our deep sea haven
Harmonia, we were holding hands
and then I was not Cadmus
we were dragons all along
just beyond the universe.


Two angels whispering across the lyre
our voices mirrors of our larynxes
in which dance the shadows
of our expressive bodies
a seed within a seed
that activates the dark of matter

into conscious black sulfur
(or was it conscious before us?)
the Black King sits beside
a veiled old woman, the devil
and his grandmother: Perkele!
the Finns shout on evil days,

to this personified prima materia
maybe Bergman had in mind
sun’s living shadow that plays
recurrent tokens of death’s desire;
not death, sister, but something saying
ourselves the furniture to get it across.

but if the road never ends
then the car is not really moving
this was the lasting Egyptian magic
water leads us through all its forms
change me to what I’ve always been
the sun’s shadow is within its rays.

This one nuthatch sings your symphony
on its way between emptiness and repletion
this same thing I have to keep saying
move my hand just like so
for each living bird that comes out
and flocks to other poems.

In this dream I don’t switch on the light
bump around the gnosis
of night’s endless house
a black sun that hides
an infinitesimal point of light
anywhere among its rays.


Shklovsky and Michael Maier 
disharmony is within rhythm
is the reinvolution
meaning needs
for the disharmonizing
called poetry

sister to suffering
and maybe its own evil brother
while within the rhythm
desire is a preemptive speech
a landscape, blossoming
from your father’s shadow.

As the fires dance across your sight
you’ll know what it means
scraggly fir on its way past
we all talk to and agree
a voice comes back
though the original was never here.

Sulpher is lingum, wood
the linea vitae line of life
which is the fourfold correspondence
of the four elements
and the spirit of life
is renewed from it.

Lingam, folded flower
a storm gathers in my hard-on
I misread and now can’t recall
what it is you really wrote
what meant for me to be
obliviating bloom of you.

I am bad for you
I know because I said so
sulpher that is itself sick
medicus, creature of darkness
optimistic it will be medicina
Hermes god of Reason and Paradox


the Christ in St. Ambrose
he called pharmakon
poison and antidote
those Greeks bearing Germatria
and New Testamant, chaos within order,
flowers from the moon.

Lead is a madman clothed in rags
said Wei Po-yang
I say the mad dog dead in the river
was in the aquae inferiores
from the beginning
the chameleon that is water.

There are gems within this slush
a mirror of body
harvesting its effective grace
a hand that pushes through the dirt
offers you the otherworldly stone
you and You lovers in the story

the story is Diana, night
who knows how to tame wild beasts
the lapis called cervus fugitivus
meaning ‘two deer’ of me in you
becoming me again, as desire burns itself
to see through the fire of this gem

so Meister Eckhart says
“any virtuous soul a golden vessel,
massive and firm, adorned
with every precious stone”
as if it were a lady from another time
who comes to stand upon the field.

Voices adorn the fields of gold, 
and I watch, for there is a body
nested within speech
that I call myself, 
these hazy eyes search the wind for 

jewels waiting to be born.