5.30.10b

search not for understanding, approval;
there is none among your brethren.
seek out rejection, seek out disappointment,
seek out betrayal, and you shall be filled.

if you would find happiness, look only inside your grief,
search and sift among the dross of your disappointments, foolish thoughts, heartbreaks.
there you shall find a landing-place; and, with luck, and a good word,
you shall find yourself; you shall find a god.

with still more luck, your god with will be merciful, lovely, brave, helpful, sweet, broad-chested, and open-armed.

there, there you shall find rest and peace.


i am not quite sure why humans crave to congregate, perhaps they crave the known--evil--but known.

that call! that call! tire not of your prayers! rather sleep. to love another is to stab oneself with a steely knife. to be loved is to be stabbed with a knife of bone and lead.

5.30.10

my arms, the soft roughness of my robe. my waist, the tightness as i pull both sides together, i am wrapped.

i measure the sides of my covering, all even, a double-knot.
softly, softly, as snow slowed to a hover, the silk slithers down, down over my arms, my body, brushing my feet. i adjust my headdress. and then again, the sounds and lightest pressure of silk on silk as i am now covered as i should be.

and then, then, my crowns terrible fit, smugly, they have me.

down i kneel on my throne of thrones.

again to pray, to fly, to live, to die. again to salty feel tears, eyes blurred, the world whirls. my arms reach out to the altar and i stay erect.

one hand in the hand of the Beloved, the other, in the hand of my commander. we go, we go and i know not where, only that it is to another vista, anywhere but here.

o gods. i tremble for the road has led me long beyond my cable-tow, i am walking free yet not guideless through barrens and wilds. i shall never return, forever.

i know not even whether i shall reach a destination. for it is footfall, footfall, footfall. at least now that my boots have long since worn away, and the blisters healed, my feet are thickset with callus. but my heart, in turn, with each thickness added to my feet, is peeled thinly away, and beats like the unlidded eye of god upon myself, and i shudder.

5.21.10

slippers snug slip soundless on marble, polished, shined, pristine.
robes of white, black, red and purple glide just above.
silk on silk, still as deafness. as though there was no air, only vacuum--and my breath from some other source.

the marble extends a quarter mile in every direction from the center dais, once i reach it.
the tower soars above, 10,000 feet.
a ray of light shines down, unsure of itself.

i kneel on a throne of gold over silver, my cushions support me as i face the south, back to where the emptiness is, where a congregation could be,

but not even a dust mote finds purchase.

a triptych immense, bronze, burnished in front of me. upon it sigils and runes--runes ancient and inscrutable when socrates was a boy. yet i, i know them all.

the old gods of passion, of action, of movement, of soul and wind; they live. and their spirits are woven into my flesh, down into the sinews, down into the cells, down into the center of each cell: our will is one. i call them not for where i am they are.

and our will is expressed: a treasure of immeasurable size to me. and then temples, and writing, and the great work.

i have moved through the lake of time, forth and back to send me what i need in the NOW.

i am working, working in a way i cannot explain.