lady of the sorrows

lady of sorrows, pray for us.
lady of worries, pray for us.
lady of fears, pray for us.

lady victim of violence, pray for us.
lady victim of uncertainty, pray for us.

lady queen of hope, pray for us.
lady queen of peace, pray for us.

lady of resolve, pray for us.
lady of courage, pray for us.
lady of wisdom, pray for us.

lady of smiles, smile on me.

when thou readest.

when thou readest, see my ink.
when thou readest, see my parchment.
when thou readest, see beneath my scratches.

for my ink is mixed with blood and oil and wine and the unnameable.
for my paper is my very flesh, pulled and shredded and mulched and dried and pressed.
and beneath my scratches are spells glorious, terrible, malevolent.
but for you, my lover (for all readers become my lovers), my spells shall heal and not wound.

if only you have the eyes and fear not.

seest thou?

is it too late, o lord?
is it too late to re-enter the womb--to emerge a boy again.
so clean and bright, my features still round and no angles and no stubble and no dissipation?
is it too late o lord to have again a child's voice--so high, so pure, so beautiful, such as to make old men cry with wracking cries?
is it too late o lord to feel the earnestness of youth? to be innocent in spite of petty foolishness and foibles. is it too late o lord, my god, to be thy child? thy son?
o god i would be that child. with hair of gold and cut in the norman fashion of purity. with eyes of delightful and not-too-piercing blue.
could i not cry 'vivat regina!' could i not be the hymn that makes the earth spin and the angels lament their immortality?
o god, is it too late now to shed all that i am?
is my repentence possible?
o god. to be a man is but to be a boy who missed the aventures he should have had. to have foregone the purity he could have kept, to have joined the fray of life, when i could, oh god, have stayed pure, ripped out my manliness and remained with you. pure, in the heavens, to be taken up with you. and my face framed in white and my young body swathed in red. red so soft and stiff and unyieldinng.
o god. who wretched must be for all we are in your image. do you, too, seek that childhood?
come then, play in my wretched heart and make light of me and throw stones at me if you wish. for i will only rejoice at seeing that picture, that picture where hope lives, and meals expected, and comfort the norm.
and your voice, o god, would pierce the heavens, raising up to high upon high. and if you did that, i would finally end. finally shed this frame. and take my chances with the angels, and with the starry night.

tonight is the night

all is in readiness. all that is not in readiness is in readiness.
the candidate is prepared and not prepared.
the candidate is neither naked nor clad.
his heart shod; mind, unshod.
he wishes to fear, but cannot quite manage it.
not to worry; that comes later.

lotus opens

it is time for me. i am. i am man. i am professional. i am dad. i am lover. i am madman. i am patient. i am physician. i am master.

fall down. throw your crown to the ground. tear your robes. if i deem it, i will make love to you, and you shall live. if you are truly worthy, and i care to, i shall kill you with my steely knife. and you shall find love.

if you please me not, you shall be sent unto everlasting fire. worship.

and i labored long. suffered much.
summoned a midwife. he came with sharpened, shiny blade.
one long, slow thrust, and the child was out.
growing to crowd out the midday sun.
black as black, blacker than soil under soil.
stronger than the men of old.
wild and untamed.
he fled my city. and his footfalls, which no shadow could penetrate, shook my foundations.
but i could not follow just then.
i was waylaid by death.

live through me

o g0d. o apollo-principle. come. enliven my bones. give strength to my sinews. put heart in my chest. put power into my lips. for my flesh sags. skin silps from sinew, sinew from bone, bone from bone.

let us rest

oh arms so soft and cool and white!
o raven hair with starry fires bright!
thy slippers upon satan's neck move not
around thy head a circling universe is brought.

let mantle thine be mine as well.
thy folds my shelter.
the bullies that bruise my nose and pull my arm
be gone. for a mother protects her son.
and in the recesses of the night, i crawl in bed
with so fair a sight: mother in her linens and hair
betressed. lavender in my nose--I wiggle and pray
dear god! take not my mother from me!

the secrets

every intonation and rhythm of the mass whispers it. every note of the song of the priest. every word of the Eucharistic prayer. every plaster visage. every flake of gold leaf.

they proclaim the mystery. the mystery of god's true desire. his desire to live under the spiritual life.

his desire to breakaway somehow from that being which one perceives in one's mind and heart. to sneak away from his pleasant visage.

to be a secret lover. to have a secret pact. to give a secret gift. if only we will do this one thing for him, he hints, then much will be ours.

dare not refuse. for he takes his silly games seriously. take the dare, or it will become an unknowable secret passion.

play his game. placate the child. for he is god. and 'no' is not in his vocabulary. recall: a child, with limitless power. limitless time. limitless energy. limitless CHILD's energy. he can play this game 'all day.' take a guess how long his days are.

take the dare.

the child

all hail the child.
whose is he?
is he of mary?
is he of the spirit?
who is the spirit?
who am I?
let me not, i pray, be he.

i wanted peace: he gave me ashes.
i wanted health: he gave me pain.
i wanted love: he gave me sadness.
i wanted wealth: he gave me unbearable burdens.
i wanted happiness: he gave me afflictions.
i wanted prayer: he gave me insanity.
i wanted power: he gave me disabilities.
i wanted wisdom: he gave me eyes that will not shut.
finally, i wanted nothing: and he gave me nothing.
and i was satisfied.
there is no peace with god without annihilation. for he creates so that he may destroy utterly.

great goddes; great mother; great advocate

folds of cool linen like feathers and dew and a new morning on my tortured face.
smooth skin of alabaster white but pulsing living breathing more alive than new grass, more vibrant than fresh snow, more puissant than a yearling stag.
and i pass. i pass.
and backwards i fall, fall, falling but my head strikes no stone. a hand, great, carries me and i am laid up in the softess bed of down and white and pillows and a breeze, cool, upon my cheek.
and my memory erased and clean and only softness remains.

for now your limpid flesh erect walks and finger, hands and arms gesture according to convention.
your main flows in the gentle, discrete, shy canal of the banal.
and ready to do commerce.
amen! though are ready for the world.
but to be OF if, there is no concern.
my inner minds and mountains and streams and glaciers and lakes all Thy heavenly hosts reflect.

silver? gold? blue?

three daughters of spotless aspect.
one mother.
a diamond.
a knife.
and now i must be comforted.

a! elbereth!

A Elbereth Gilthoniel
O Elbereth Starkindler,
silivren penna míriel
white-glittering, slanting down sparkling like a jewel,
o menel aglar elenath!
the glory of the starry host!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
Having gazed far away
o galadhremmin ennorath,
from the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
to thee, Everwhite, I will sing,
nef aear, sí nef aearon!
on this side of the Sea, here on this side of the Ocean!^[1]

A Elbereth Gilthoniel
O Elbereth Star-kindler,
o menel palan-díriel,
from heaven gazing afar,
le nallon sí di'-nguruthos!
to thee I cry now beneath the shadow of death!
A tíro nin, Fanuilos!
O look towards me, Everwhite!^[2]

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!
O! Elbereth Starkindler,
silivren penna míriel
white-glittering, slanting down sparkling like a jewel,
o menel aglar elenath,
the glory of the starry host
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
Starkindler, O! Elbereth!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees
The starlight on the western seas.