REBUILDING THE GOETHAENUM
The Cathedral without corners. Unsettled.
Smell of vanilla all this morning, of childhood veils, smell of ectoplasm, the color of the worker’s shirts arriving. At the threshold of my transformation. Hekah, her helmet of raised hands. Kah raised, prongs of the magic thrust into matters of. Stirs animal energy fork writhing through the guts. Guts writing through the fork. Writhes and writes through splashing. Sexual pulse. Soul in soul. At the threshold not held all corners loose. A weather to hand. A whirl. Under words.
Can not make sense. Restraint. Who comes.
Hold myself back. Words back. Who comes.
If everything is available then detritus. Yet an empty. Vigorously
Her down my head.
Chisel. Whirling flame, edges off, build.
The whirl,
to be.
Her command.
Her house. Whirling.
Toward the round, the perfect, the world, unweaving her angular
suitors. Releases, winking stars of her veil.
And in the central emptiness husbanding, observance myself.
Make unavailable. Only this writing can. Confuse. Covert. Herself. The Destroyer.
Suitors. Of the Husband’s poem ten thousand men. Whirl he thought reflection. Within her. In the rondure of the soul and the sentence. Her house is.
Coming.
Her strange sigh to us, to wake.
Die menschenbildende,
builds men of us, windows and fluttering birds.
Deer who wild. Suddenly ripened
swift razos over the mountain. Hoofing.
Hooves the mind. To obscure. Into where plurality lurks,
trample down mine. Enter my. Her chiseled down. Holds. Not myself to her holding. But an empty and an advancing. Her marble columns Herself. Throngs. Otters and birds. On grass through templums. Where the poses of building. The inviting steps and sight and inviting sanctum’s emptiness. So a bird, a wind, or what. She comes. Undressing. Endarkening. Isis Her Veil.
Through the transitory blessed seeming. Is seen. As happenstance unfolds. The veil’s cornerless. Must unfold. Habit dying. Winks.
Obscured and precious again. Star net on the pleasure pattern’s slaves. Foisted smear. Mystery. Blessing.
The Danau starting. Deer unremembered. Overtake ours sweet and light as source.
Stands of cedarwood of Ishtar the star. So she and the creek through trees riverine. The transmigration of souls. His ear to the column. The king into twilight. Out of the king.
The rush of us. Everyman. We make each other. Her saps.
In Golden chains.
Laburnum tea.
She steeps.
Behind wisteria of Kaukasos and Quonehtacut, my pupils.
Hear the rush of
over flowers
over trees shrinking. Water over water. This Danau.
She steeps sourceling. Golden poison twilight.
Her rays through
Her veil.
Fauns and timbrels on mountains. Running submerged. Me.
Your perfection your round floods.
My names. Nameless suitoring. She eats all of. My flame erect. From her center, this building. My suitors, my patterns, my clothes and chairs. She liberties. And in the center, inly, for she my mind hath so displaced. No mind but her, chthonic touch. The eagle flying in, the in returned to flame. Letters, words, translucent books, pure. And then my blemish, these smear words.
No originals. No remaining. Smears, obscurations, ink. To begin again. Everything to clarity, write and write. Until empty, weightless.
2.
Across heavenly rising, a drowning book down my face. Sweeps clean. Goes down but looks up. Feints. Works inward. Inland from this farthest point. From the prow of Her Veil. My stick broken and cloak thick. One foot and then the next. She smoothes down into. The green hills splashing. Amid columns that up, up, through sight and sky’s boscage. Cleaned from myself. From the prow, spy. For days, weeks. The stray lonely marmot, eggs stolen from nests and slurped. For years. Lives. Become small, lean, my few long hairs. Long white shadows. Beneath my feet catch and snap. The long white clouds, incautious, imitating her temple. The imitations that catch, drown. While rising inimitable. Winged and real. Water lilies, where water and slick grass. Hawthorne, locust blossom, the smell attending. Nature’s Masonry. Cats. Leading seriously, more and more against my legs into one cacophonous. Pur of intent. The long stairs. Stars. Descending into the death, depth, earth, while Mary rises. The cave behind her. Things to be. Her circumference reaches, strains, the structure strains. The angles, stars. Names that know my name, flocking toward zero. In the space claimed. Claimed from certainty, me, my poem. In our darkness dances.
3.
Mountainous. Kékhegyvár. Where my house turned blue. My hands, my eyes, my birds. Where the sun sets and the caves. Blue. On the second day our yacks like the sky but for a few stray clouds. While only our extremities. As if of the blood’s circulations. Swarms. Centering around the center. The blue sun, the blue geese, midnight, returning, blue squirrels earthing and unearthing nuts, the blue of time, the little squirrel we’d call our girlfriends, boyfriends, or a friendly blue boulder on the hill, something to call. Intent to fragment, pieces, from. To call, to draw. The whole dancing. Pieces rhythm. Barnyard fenceposts sheep jumping sexual pulse. Physis, chi. Cow’s horns shining in the moonlight of difference.
4.
The Duke’s wives abounding. In not darkness. Not obscurity. But transparent. In silk swish. In maybe. Closet opens. A still lake, reflections, the suspension of many stars, the blood. Tide draws. Circulations called wives. Fields, daughters, otters, ponds, round and round to our reflections. Heightening. To her walls. Moon heightens to. Distance dwindles to. Blood to blood. Not blue but transparent. Nothing else to see. But we. Cerulean personae incense. Your mirrors at the thought of me. Angels. Smoke. Sheathes its swords where pomegranates. Where paradise. Where manhattan. Where Abrahams. Cobblers. Ate spaghetti. Food-carts, fistfights, schoolrooms, leather, deserts, widow’s mites. Ate and ate. Hidden in dawn’s names. Ancestors long. Golden chains my mother. Holds us to. Our eating.
5.
What I each.
Ever only.
Nightstand
red dawn, raspberries,
traffic jam. For dream writing.
Cathy becomes. Bill and Sandra.
Ignites.
Pen rises, transcribes across.
Could only be called the sky.
6.
Lightly, Rope cinched along. Where the hole, where marigolds. Smell of bone in her. Moonlight. What enters down. Altaring light below. Glimmering flash. Bands ringing. Selenite you could walk across. Crooked subterranean temples. Teeth in a crooked mouth. Remembering moon. Antennae, hands raised in bands, prayer. Worshippers grow. Within the earth a new moon. As within night’s svelt black winged. Love egged, and all follow after love. Holding your image for further instructions. Bands display. Shining from the earth from my face. She reaches, repays, we see her by. The hands receive. Our thinking water. A picture sticking to water, to a mirror. A deity to a human being. The soul to the body.
Bands flashing. Flesh ringing. Amid breakage and from the round. Her columns offer. The killer relies upon what. Long vertical crystals offer. Receptive. Cave blooming light.
