Friday, September 7, 2012

Spell the echo of sacredness
wandering from the forest and pastures,
like the tip of the unspooling fern, presenting

where apparent is lost fly on glass worlds, neither
peacekeeper nor tyrant, neither insider nor outsider

bamboozled by real frames rather than open expanses
of transient reality

Revealed as input collecting and dispersing like the
collapsing cone
and sands fall, cascading
trance and drone of ritual and celebration

mechanical crazed whisperings
artful articulations, silhouetted by casual and lackluster refinement
ornate arrangements
of movement, transition, and fluidity.
Chime the bells, in
synagogues, cathedrals, in halls of orgy
on mountain shrines

in semi-bloomed cloisters
of glass, drunk of the strong
wines where lies the decadence
of derangement.

In the voices of strangers’ faces
Deranged, Garish
worn abominations whose elegant plumage equally
evokes the pageantry
of night,
the nakedness
of night,
painting the glory of body
masquerading through genders
in frenzy: whimsical, decadent and consuming
so that the remainder
calls forth nullibiety.
Such is madness and indulgence, twin gods of invention,
so to them give praise.

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