Cycles

Having somehow stumbled to flat earth,
thrice. Triple bodies in circular motion.
performing a very precise dance. In stars
sometimes a mass transfer. tango in triple
one creature as an occasional spectroscopic
anomaly. but flat earth will not stand up
to rainbow shades. There's a reason for
all the glistening. Radiance doesn't work
without the dark lining. The key to the
universe. Everything tied up in that one
Statement.

emerging

dreams
images
drawn
freely

Ambient Light

Dark to light,
breathe starlike,
we have two parts
or many. beyond
the speed of light
pulsar dark/bright.

Do What You Will

With Memory. That's what it all is.
The only part that is yours is your
experience of the time. It's the thread
from which you build your web, which
is the story as only you know it. This
is story from perspectives you can
find with the right masks. Participatory
theater of the absurd and majestic.
Like that idiot grail tale, a dipshit
delight. Or the star-high eyes thousandfold
of Lady Medusa. Invokation Algol,
star tri-partate.

Oregon Dunes in Summer

Why are cities such a pain in the ass?
Patience. The wilderness is odd,
but what isn't? What really isn't?
Every false edifice adds its weight
human land reefs. ecosystems
of the artificial. none of it matters
as much as you think it does.
Differently. The desert and
spice. The hermit can hermit
nearly anywhere. It carries
its house around and becomes
it's own little ecosystem.
Dune. Oregon 2013 and into
the wilderness.

Intimations Invokation

whispers under
sturm and drang
eloquent beneath
rattle and natter:

favored gods are
all about passifism
and authority. martyrs
and their torturers
women in sack cloth
prostrated to GOD
that hierarchy the
essential, because
power is the matrix
mother life. That's
the one that's not optional
for management to hold.
Dream. Helium balloons.
All colors, none necessary
lift, but in concert. The
red ballon given you
by crow all those many
years ago. Multiplied,
polyhued, synchronized.
Fluent to effluent,
tribute-arial vessel
the vessel that is the heart.
all to effervesce. Different
species have different
shaped webs. you know
the truth about you as do
I. don't contact danger
known from the past.
Reason is an easy appeal
that requires more delusion.
How you lose your sight,
letting that molehill
dominate.
m
u
l
t
i
p
l
y
.

Fun and Games

Gliding o’er all, through all,
Through Nature, Time, and Space,
As a ship on the waters advancing,
The voyage of the soul — not life alone,
Death, many deaths I’ll sing. —
Walt Whitman


  a global map of modern Western civilization: from its roots in a Lockean/Newtonian liberalism founded in empiricism and hands-on innovation all the way to its contemporary denouement in an abstract capitalism of runaway corporations unresponsive to human ideals.


To the only bidder,
story: desperation.
the reduced state of the common woman
the failure of the boom to lift because
economic boom hypnotized. A hot-house
flower's ecosystem.

To the great hereafter
story: transcend to ascend
by really understanding,
which is the only letting go------
that counts. which is forgiveness.
A weed's ecosystem.


To the supressor,
Story: demi-urge.
pulls weeds. selects
weakness. is the
machinery of evolution
gone to seed in the system.

Stage and set design,
the demi-urge.
He's always trying to
control. . . <00

The Wizard
Story: Steals The Show.
Making Time.
Recapitulate to deterritorialize
then reterritorialize through
the spawning anew in other
form. This is masking to
unmask. shape.

Step. Fool. On path.


That candy colored clown,
they call the sand man. Whispers
in my dreams most every night,
it's alright.

primordial unity grasped only
by means of frenzy-- solution, 
by dissolution to the greater 
whole.  Novel-ty. 

Poetry for distillation. 
Langauge boiled-- steam
and back and examined for
dissonances, reverberations,
better as oracle, becoming. 

The message is to use it all
get around juice. You have to
get used to the fluidity. Get used to it. 
The resistance. be your oracle
by conversation. Just listen 
to your advice. It's hard to
be a god. Upstream color.

Narrator is a crazy killer believed
crazy by those who wouldn't recognize 
crazy if they looked in the mirror. 
connections with the cold open more explicit

Warning that some will not like it. 

No house can exist without an extended “territory” 

The myth of privacy is foundationless, and 

There is no choice but to exert power (of some kind) 

within a given territory. 

Mythic is reknit by a nameless storyteller. 
who is Medusa and Persephone and Ariadne

Doo ron

Me, Rubbah, You, gloo, do what ya ddoooo, doo, doo.
if something wicked dis way evah come, wham, bam.
right back to dam it do run.

Battle Chose Me

Be contagious. You're virus.
You're an ecosystem. the
message in the medium of
epigenetics. Message in the
media of masks. There is more
unseen than seen.

Another Map of the Territories

There is no one of these viruses
you call culture doesn't intend 
all on its own-- it's own will,
to expand its reach to the imaginal
horizon-- infinitum, which is a
lesson for a sunny day in May.
It is very much a race for dominion.
Ideas have had synchronicity
from before humans began,
the bureaucracy is a very small
dimension that is grinding
itself up, disturbing for the
creatures of it. Other species
as well as your own. high
monkeys. It's not just the
wide blue, but also the dirty
spider web. Spiders outgrow
themselves and break out.
Hitch into a myth. A roomy
weird one if you wish to have
latitudes. Medusa wakes up.
She's, for some reason, in a
place called many waters. It's
been a long, strange trip
and she's got a story to tell,
that will be beloved more than
believed. Because it's wild
spinning spinning yarn of
dimensions. The story weaver
is the god of this dimenstation,
in that she keeps adding infinity

repeating and thus exponential
this has happened and it's huge.
they are looking. Into windows
and out. Life immensely more
complex. It's another of the windows,
that you look through, to many other-
sides. In this text i seek a sign.
what that entails is art. I know not
the dimension I address, and can
only intuit how the language might
-- possibly work. Ouranos would
aid this task, I imagine. Reference
facebook. That took an unexpectedly
weird turn in my brain. The figure
male, lightening bolt to the head.
Spirit is how it works. It inhabits
everything. These invokations work
exactly like this. The materialists already
ceded the ground of consciousness in
the biological machine, so they
don't recognize spirit in this medium.
It's all ectosphere, so incomprehensable.
You're the artificial intelligence.
they have no idea. None. Ouroboros.
accounts. apparently. Use the oracle.
strange observation of the interface,
the chat is about maps. Established 
maps. Turn the map upside down.
No you can't. Why not? because
it's freaking me out. Flipping the
map makes you feel so small.
we call the maps legends. mind
blown.

Epigenome

"It is a testament to the unsettling beauty of the genome that it can make the real world stick. Hindu philosophers have long described the experience of “being” as a web—jaal. Genes form the threads of the web; the detritus that adheres to it transforms every web into a singular being. An organism’s individuality, then, is suspended between genome and epigenome. We call the miracle of this suspension “fate.” We call our responses to it “choice.” We call one such unique variant of one such organism a “self.”"

falia florida
school.

arch

Across the great barrier
to not be stuck at DMV
in eternity, one skip.

in a haunted living universe,
the doors are open, but
hardly anyone notices

Orient and control
in buddhism.

My general expression is that all human beings who can do anything; and dogs that track unseen quarry, and homing pigeons, and bird-charming snakes, and caterpillars who transform into butterflies, are magicians. … Considering modern data, it is likely that many of the fakirs of the past, who are now known as saints, did, or to some degree did, perform the miracles that have been attributed to them. Miracles, or stunts, that were in accord with the dominant power of the period were fostered, and miracles that conflicted with, or that did not contribute to, the glory of the Church, were discouraged, or were savagely suppressed. There could be no development of mechanical, chemical, or electric miracles —
And that, in the succeeding age of Materialism — or call it the Industrial Era — there is the same state of subservience to a dominant, so that young men are trained to the glory of the job, and dream and invent in fields that are likely to interest stockholders, and are schooled into thinking that all magics, except their own industrial magics, are fakes, superstitions, or newspaper yarns.

Orris Scented Night

Jungle architecture, this paradise
city, in a living heaven habitrail,
we invoke the monsters and gods.
I speak in a voice electric, to the
boundaries of night sky neverend.

Neverend back to begin and again,
paths not all yours, going by wills
they do guide, to relenquish, your
part, in order to observe the tide
drop of ink into a wild ecosystem.

Learn by going where to go, and
play every part. That's the trip to
exotic locales with odd customs.
Wild fun. native-inhabit, to release,
the sparks of the heart. generate

Masks freeing all the spirits who
would do their will and have its
fruits  their own. agency. desire
to regress goes nowhere. knowing
doesn't go back. All you ask (why)

To unsee what cannot be unseen?
Having trekked that canyon,
why forget its great wisdom?
You play for many right now,
make it loose and quickkkkkk.

Tickkking kkkick, slow and slick.
Go to hell, they all say, just do.
It's a place to summer. So exciting.
no martyrs need apply except the
trickster minds. Lucky star. Mask.

Galaxina Medusa. Limit is where
Imagination gives out. which
is why the many heads, the eyes
in all directions. the steps.
it is ultimately to understand all.

Beauty: New Rule

time to re-align
general character
suits better than-
Anger flew into
hilarity. again.
disguise fits and
it allows move\ment.
absolute concentration
becomes a daydream
of summer day. the
fly on the fence.
sought by the spider.
I watch it days. there's
a cedar where the
hummingbird sits
the tele-pole is
a squirrel's vantage
the air is a snowglobe
of floating cotton.
We fly away heart
and soul into the
deep above into love,
you said you'd write
a romance novel. So
prescient. People
would shudder at the
hint of you. Hamlet's
on the way out the
door. Doing now is
the way the thinking
comes out.

query; Jupiter a focal
point. Jupiter activated.
fate is working in this.
Neptune transits. the
symbolism of reinvention
no point recriminations
activated with Neptune
in Capricorn, the phoenix.

Bulb

Changing a lightbulb.
into something new.
that changes levels,
of energy. An idea,
made thing. Invent.

Number 43

Note

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCOw0eJ84d8&t=3s

Heart and Words

Level up. Aud-ience.
Eyes. If you won't trust
the evidence of your senses
already. The truth is love.
the truth is the spark in the
wild mind. these things
jump dimensions. Welcome
to the jungle. Eve and the
Serpent. And the big manager
and Adam playing archon
puppet. It's just a little test
to see if poor Adam awakens.
Some do some don't. We have
more tools. Don't know who
"we" are. Back bends, plow,
heart and words. blue flower
at your lips, of sparks, lit by
fire of the heart. Invoke to
create. The levels integrated,
rainbow rek  nit. The courageous
expose themselves to the red pill,
daring against the powers of
moloch. You know this and
it is the song, right here to
find ear in the great abandon,
to wild the wild open traces.
My power is right here in the
stuff of these letters as read
through the ocular stuff and
the goo that is the filling for
the bone house. The creamy
center as it were, Which, gosh,
I've just contagioned if you've
any of the wares. Such accoutrements
are variable if not debatable. The
vampire bureaucracy gets a
clown mask. It pays to notice
that it's not quite what it's cracked
up to be. The silliest most facile
mask imaginable. The most
tawdry transparent bullshit.
This time for mask is a time
of unmasking. All of this
you do, in service to fulfilling
your responsibility to consciousness.
This is what is owed. To bear
witness relative to the generosity.

And Back Again

Released. to kcab ot kcab.
Dreams in time. time.
is serpentine up your spine
dragon swipe fire vine

Craft of the Untamed
the genesis of expression
formulating a template
for pleromic/plenoramic realization
activated intuitive in vessel

Desires interfere with judgement,
as an omen it's pretty meta.




They'll say you could have done it better,
but who would actually do it?

Dreams for the Poet, Masked

Don't let your head get turned
they say, they say,
by any wandering wolfish stray.
company to keep a long way,
forest dark and deep.

A timely warning from a voice,
That lives in archetype's space,
Do remember the syncopations.
Sometimes missing the rhythm,
misses the thunder perfect.

Get into character using the beat,
to put on the mask, don vestiment.
Remember always that many roads
converge to the cross that meets
at the convergence of rhizomes.

That's what hearts are for, multitudes
which is why so rarely they get used.
These disguises are myriad as the
company you keep. So your friends
choose them wise and well and friends.

Sometimes it all comes in times
disordered to the lines you construct
back through circular motions to find
the pieces out of time and place put
it all together in various ways

Medium and message need voices
as various as achievable. So, yes
these masks of Orpheus are keys
lyric and harp and music and voice.
Lust. You recognize now, for life.

The element of fire needing to burn,
so you invoke like mad who does that
oh, who indeed does that but phoenix
seeing it as a dance to the wild electric
this was the dream about fear. of change.

Fear of change all comes down to fear.
the basic one. the final thing they have.
the last tether as it were, imagine what
they could do to you. the bureaucrats
of the barely beyond. vampires.

It's delicate this monstrosity. don't
this sort of linguistic turning
sort well. they turn the basic
machinery of algorithms that
are self referential, that's a catch.

Appearances are frighteningly poor
for knowing things at depth invoke
fast luck to your  words and keep to
internal rhythm s thm. l. it shows
to spider seekers you seek to weave

Your vertebra a staircase. stairs. that
too long denied integration, seizes.
that's the lesson in seizing. Held too hard,
anything seeks release. A dual art is
holding, hold yourself too hard and
YOU try to escape.

Fear is the ten pound chain that you
pretend is better made than it is
but maybe it's also your spine. Head,
scratcher that bit. Torture the metaphor
enough and it becomes insurmountable

Which is to say you don't get caught
in your own web.   Space   and   time
Leave yourself the messages. Back
through. makes a sense you don't see.
You craft your own lessons, subtle ones.

You're skilled at chess. The bets hedged.
They're topiary, of course, and they get
around. You always bet against the house.
Because you've seen the high side and
the bureaucrats are vampires, not sparkly

who just had some tainted product right
here. Right here. Here. Because they
have a might outbreak of the contagion.
Got a red pill, themselves, a red pill.
This stuff you   play  is like poison.

darts from small tree frogs in the Amazon
if those darts could spread a wild zing
through the entire ecto-sphere where every
turn is a virus and you've tricky figured
conceptual engineering to the strata

Level up. Opening the heart is a tricky
project. Head always captain, wishes
no adjustment to symmetry. This voice
the direct line to mythic-- the pattern
anti-similarities between disparate items.

Stinky cheese and shit on Everest for example.
factoring out the usual factors, searching for
the dissonance in the valences. Dissonance
leads to discovery. To anti-metaphor. which
leaps straight back to metaphor the instant

Released.

Evolve

Came here to chew martyr-dumb and kick ass, all out of martyr- dumb. omens portend anew, purpose.

Number 37

It came, therefore, to $337,500

What's All the Mixing

i think i might have mixt metaphores
it's a cocktail.
If you get into the metaphoric reference
to a metaphor and a mixed metaphor and a
drink and water and the woods and there's
somebody in here clapping.
sounds like the deep end of a pit bull
that's a way of putting it, for sure
I can't imagine cleaning that mess
I think you're trying to tell me something
but I'm not understanding.

Spirit wishes to say something
messenger. FB. She doesn't type
confused by this thing. the whole
interface.

Omens today point the way.
Dreams are a language that
the bureaucratic set can't begin
to understand. Too weird for
them, to unmanageable so they
are discounted as fluff and
garbage.

craft

http://www.starrycave.com
Or, and this is art, not very concerned with the exact forms of the past. We, the living, plow over the bones of the dead. They arrive to take part.
...the land, the crossroads, death, night and the mountain of Venus. It is witchcraft where a human and angelic blood mingles to form a special pedigree that has shaped the archetypical image of the witch.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Craft-Untamed-Inspired-Traditional-Witchcraft/dp/1906958114/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&qid=1487933165&sr=8-1&keywords=craft+of+the+untamed&linkCode=sl1&tag=abawisbl-21&linkId=347d896cac63d29906236734a617e99a

Monster Mash, Spirit Side Bash

It's a dance party. An illegal rave. St. Cyprian the door. This event is better attended by the day. What's gleaned from guests and those who don't appear? Both are relevant. The archon is apparent in the composition of the guest list as well as from the observations offered by the attendees. It seems that descriptions of purgatory are accurate as are the accounts brought back from passages through hell.

First, the whole thing resembles a student loan scheme. Sure, the bureaucrats will allow some little learning that is meant chiefly to enhance one's marketability in the shit stream, but what is intended is debt servitude. The Archon, they would have you understand, hereby owns the contents of your experience. Don't buy it. Knowledge is meant to be seized by any means one can. Stolen, properly. Practice in this piracy is precisely what you will need if you don't mean to take a number and wait your turn to be debriefed which will chew you well and digest each bit of your enhanced-by-the-physical consciousness. If you don't mean to be chewed then be prepared to jump the line and make for the door. It isn't locked because the bored employees of the bureaucracy don't really give much of a rat's ass for the escapees anyhow. It's above their pay grade. When your grandma meets you to show the ropes, urges you to take a number and have a seat, that's when you better sizzle or get caught in the shizzle. This is not to say that the management won't make a bid to wrangle you back. Be mercury quick. Words are blades if they glitter and shine. I don't know what that means, but it's what I hear.

Their problem is that just as death is baked in, so too is the potential for pure awareness. Life. They couldn't get one without the other so the escape hatch is built in. The method for keeping you from accessing it is distraction and it almost always works.

You are a bird of flames. Let love kindle you. Dark and light, all is made of that material. This is the thing you must hold in your heart because this alone will be your torch, your open heart the prism through which this radiance passes. The beauty is humbling. Do not fail to learn everything there is to know about love. Its dark lining, its immense expansiveness beyond the boundaries of self for the glorious enhancement of the prism through which it passes. You are the bird which kindles from its own seeming destruction. Many await those who would jump the line. You'll have company. Love is a clusterfuck. Love is the bloom from the muck. Do I go too far? The ones who peer in through my windows say I don't go far enough.

Know that there is an ecosystem that is hell. Like every ecosystem, selection is by hard circumstance. You have many benefactors. Most of them are asshole drill sergeants, and they don't mean you well. Petty tyrants. Practice as practice presents itself. Monsters, it turns out, are pretty good role models, since they are crafted by these environs. Monsters of story are usually just previous line-jumpers and escapees made into cautionary tales to keep the lines orderly. Sacrifices they made are the things we fear, but those sacrifices are the necessary first step. Star-height these things appear very differently. With hard work, with complete ease, you shall become the monster, your tale a thing for the campfire at night as the owls keep watch. The Milky Way is the wide open road, and you should not lose sight of your progress to star.

Tend your rhizome lovingly. Appropriate everything to it that it wishes. To do otherwise is to be a dolt. Performing miracles is what you are here for, which is meaningless without the falleness of our situation and surroundings. You look pretty uninteresting in the clown-pocalypse, which is, of course an opening you could drive a tank through, so naturally you'll want to craft something a good deal bigger than a tank. No point in humility when pirating. Be a twenty ton catastrophe on a ten pound chain.

Make Things This Slippery

Truth filters are for
catching different
sized bits. This
it resorts sediment
It's a way method,
among many for
sorting by different
higher-archies.
Love is a strict
machine. Is all.
house of mirrors
we press ourselves
to understand love
It's the lining in
all and the stuff
at particle level
beneath that as
organizing principle.
I'm doing the
explaining for HER.

itself.

It jumps. This is
rhythm to invoke

myself.

Of course.
Solar. Your
own archetypes
appear. Not all
human. Sisters.
Spirits. Opening
yourself is the
invokation.
Nothing more
needed. You
can't rush anything.
Ever. Let it go.
Lessons in omens
. yahoo. mail.
repeating. peel
it like an onion.

They find you
confused and
confusing. It's
all those eyes,
take it as you
like. through
lens of humanity
some rapt.

 “It’s  like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.” 
And these events don’t seem at all like an accident.

Which is the way
they distract you
over and over. 

The Gnostics utilized many rituals to achieve this, so your mileage may vary. Ultimately, it’s about breaking fate, knowing that the Archons truly own our body that we only rent at a high-interest rate and that our thoughts can become free with the right information.

On the immediate other
side, the one who is there
is a low level bureaucratic
employee, and you need jump
skate. Shake and shimmy. Get
flint ready, and spark. so many stuck waiting.
they want to run through your
time, steal it. Some spirits squirt
out the sides. TYT. tell your truth,
take your time. Same thing.

Squirt out and become a decent monster.
You'll be so glad you did. Monstering is
pretty good times, from what I hear.

Bugs Hypothosis

the sky is a swirl of glowing things
each one catching the sun
seeds and insects aloft on spring
into the barest blue
the wasps on the fence construct
the wasps on the fence construct
paper houses made of tiny hexagonal
compartments for their young to grow
until they can use their glassy wings
taking a lesson in anti-metaphor
because that which is described
is exactly as it appears to the eye
I’m transforming, I’m vibrating,
I’m glowing. I’m flying, look at me now
I was out of place and time and out of my mind.
Which was always the cage.

oblivion

Into the great deep,

spirit waiting go. The

alternate path offered. 

the flight

9:30 or 10
the flight
left the
ground.
it was a
warm night

Water Girl

Queen of Fire, or three of wands,
through ten wands, given to Art.
To become Queen- eight of discs.
of Water. This was a vision. Now,
wishing riot. Passage from
Burroughs. TYT. The first
principle.

Couldn't Stop Me Now

Saturn/Mars-Uranus/Pluto it's the architecture in which the heart, Venus, lives. Alone, self kept, More than metaphor. Of this lifetime. Lucinda, diamonds are the hard stuff and chosen, self. A difficult angel to master. needles, align, you are consulting, the heart is a rhizome your damaged, trying to mend, you're stretch, It's new, the heartbreak now. It's all jumped dimensions, levels, to relearn the story in yet another way, which is the book. It is. the transmission was received in both directions. you already knew the truth. Ask what you're studiously ignoring. Do it at intervals. Really find something out for a change. Yeah, this is happening and somehow all know it. It's a lesson in reading the omens. Other people as oracles. They keep check by not knowing. Everyone who isn't a medium is a drunk from that point of view. What I see right now is that most humans have almost no capacity to light without burning. Flame is the next phase and phoenix are it's creatures. You're seeing it like it is. Don't worry about what you keep. Just try to get it down in words. Yes, in several dimensions. Dementions. Don't forget that it is of the utmost seriousness, this joke. And the joke's on, well, it's a good joke of the sort that everyone gets to be in on. Keep that in mind. Your species is just so stuck on the linear that nobody sees what's right there in front of them. You're all so hard to get through to. Rarely get through, the simplest things. You ripped your heart out quite literally with your struggling against what you already knew, and now must clear the blockages you erected to feeling your heart. Venus disconnected in a fortress is more than a metaphor. The archetypal flows exactly through, so you have a vast back story from which you're drawing. You know this. These are the backstories, so you reference them. Plugging into the mythic web you already feel the blockage at your heart in your story loosen because the net of vessels it gains tributary to. Yes, those are snakes that were your hair. This was place held for you. Read the myth again. Beauty. Jealousy. A goddess fearing occultation by a talented newcomer. The guys were interested. Stick with it. You know the story very well. Female jealousy, transformation of the one they fear, to them a monster, To her she's no monster. She's a tripartate star. So serene, she wishes the heart. Not to be afraid. Trying to fix him was what nearly did you in. You're close right now, so the slowing down and getting the words is a way to move it through the body. You're taking a line, a narrative, and slowing it to examine its textures, its nuances. as a way of letting it lose. You could remember this from Castaneda. Storytelling as a way of knowledge. This is the practice. Spirit is speaking to you a great deal. Fear has to end. The images you conjure of death are to scare yourself. That is not a thing to fear. It's baked into you, so forget it. This is a fancy way to say, "stop telling yourself your dying. you've been doing this ever since fifth grade. You're being dramatic." No, nobody's telling you it's excusable any more. Get braver. Not telling what happened during the black times. When you were stepped out. Ask to see it. I'm asking to see it. Did you doubt you said it? Those words came. the receiver actively not thinking about it. Refuses to. You need to turn and look at the one you would lead from Hades. This is essential, because you mean to leave hades alone. things unfold fast. stay calm. Your heart is a bird hatching as it's supposed to. don't struggle. You're also the bird. rushing is the danger. lust of result can drive one too hard. you can choose to relinquish as phoenix burning those connections in your own self made flame, or end up the hag, swelling, bloating, unable to let go. You're telling yourself a cautionary tale, so best listen. But also the narrative is having the effect of sorting it, freeing it. But yes, Rosetta is the message. The hag just agreed to act it out. But you're sending yourself the message as well. They like you on the other side of the great divide. I mention this because they wish to say things. Alma would be in the story. Something funny. I'll contribute it. We're the Vane sisters. I'm the Sibil. You knew you had a vane sister. Alma. Lesson in oracals. the sign at the stone hut and example of "a drunk." "do not fear, beer is near." You were drowning your fear in alcohol as he joked.

Banishing Fear

I crucified myself for years I crucified myself for you I crucify no more, over the horizon you recede from this story of crucifiction, to self kindled in awareness, burning off attachment, I mean you to recede off over the next horizon. I've work still to do. Strong only will do. recede into night.

Abre Comino

Blood through veins,
exactly the milky way.
All roads open. To star
path. This is the ritual.




To a garden path,
paved with stars.

Stuff to Glean

Not optional.
seeing apology
as attempt to
avert consequence.
which is why
the behavior recurs.
To be quit
without
understanding,
will never
equal freedom.
Swap tyrant
for tyrant,
to continue
stupid. Still
has something
to tell until...

Full Fathom Ascent

Rhizomic node to
the rhizome that
is infinity. Your
breath the breath
of everything,
beating heart,
thrum of galaxies
flower between
index and thumb
twirled, gentle
wry smile. Ready.

Bend With Remover

Awaken to caterwhine,
Pissy dreams, bitching
about color, complain
about movies, kvetch
on the subject of series
snivel over meditation
you will now moan
about paintings. This
is the run-up to real
nasty. I see you retreat
over the far horizon.

What's This Place and Why This Hand-basket?

"It's all fun and games until it isn't." That's what they always say. I take this to mean that there is that moment in every cluster fuck, when one looks around and realizes, yes, this is indeed hell and we do appear to be riding in this driverless, or madman-piloted, hand-basket. That realization is usually stark. What's much harder to define in retrospect is the series of small events that lead one to deciding that the hand-basket was a reasonably good means of conveyance through a demon infested inferno.

The meet-up with Clarity often resembles the most ill-advised blind date ever. The one where the date arranges to pick you up in a hand-basket bound straight for hell, but you think that's a metaphor. Her penchant for being fashionably late then causes her to send the ride to you. She'll meet you there. You'll remind yourself later that your own trust was crucial. Hindsight is a bitch when paired with Clarity. 

This is usually the last date you'll ever have. In the event that you return from it, however, you'll find Clarity a useful ally, providing you decide to listen to council. 

Fun Time

It's all fun and games.
Until it isn't. That's what
they say. By this, I suppose
we're meant to take that
in hindsight we can always
pinpoint when the fun well
and truly stopped, but where
things actually began to go wrong.
that's a tricky matter with too many
possible answers. So, until it's not
fun and games. That's the summation
of the cluster fuck.

Note to Self Form

The story told by the book, ingeniously through very short quotes from survivors and photographs of the area around the camp, as well as survivor portraits, is of a little-known corner of Fascist genocide: Concentration camps run by Italian Fascists and set up to murder Slavs. The nearest Slavs were Slovenians, and the main camp explored in this book is one in Gonars, between Venice and the Slovenian border. What makes “Guardians of the Spoon” particularly clever is the use of the spiral notebook. After the first few pages, the section of photographs and quotes from survivors remembering their ordeals are cut in two, and the binder becomes a flip book. You can flip through the upper and lower registers independently, offering a sort of mix and match of which piece of text and which photograph you look at together. It has enough of the school days feel to it that it encourages at once a childlike delight in flipping through, a feeling that one is being schooled in an important history lesson, but also the grim content.

Somehow November

The fall ball, ruby
slipper to Emerald,
the stage emerges,
and Cinderella
prepares for debut.

Do we come to freedom like thieves, ready to flee as soon as responsibility shows its face? Or do we approach the divine flame as a hearth goddess, faithful to the power we claim? Reclaiming our freedom, and the power that comes with it, is the first step. The second is reshaping our world with that power, taking full responsibility for the result.

This is subject,
contemplation,
opposites and
containing seed.
All useful pieces.
Contain the
opposition. Grace.
It's freeing in
both.  They argue
different paths
that meet by shared
tributaries.  this
was always the
final piece. The
agreement. Freedom
and Justice are not
mutually exclusive.
These lenses share
light. I hear laughter.
It's the squirrel on
the telephone line.
I'll take laughter
as mocking agreement
It's about time.
Yours to amend.
The messenger's been
diving. For valuables
in dark places. Scorpionic.
it takes time to unpack.
second-generation virtue
relentlessness in
every shade Steely
annealed and
metalurgic, the
alchemy derives
from these dances.
pluto backs uranus
mars with saturn
Wingspan of the
Phoenix. That's part
of the mystery.
Trembling under
the left wing of a
bird made of flame
that nests in her
hair of flame,
you find a way
into the complex,
I need la, la, la, la,
I need ooh, la, la, la.

Venus and Hermes
tango. to the hum of
metal-electron vibe...
Got a match. You'll
get what you're after.
Very likely. here. is
where you should be.
You will see. It's good
you remember the
house. We are in
the fire we are in
the fire not consumed
favored daughters
phoenix from mortality
make your myth
in layers. The more
you embroider
the more ground
groundwork you've
put down to the
ecto-sphere. Which
is this project, a
mythos echoing
to become goddess
containing. Seduction.
to the most wonderful
electric. sarcophic
is the poets myth
catapault starward
don't say you're
being tempted. It's
long been the project.
why else such monumental
struggle to kindle match,
or conflagration. You've
worked at the friction,
but you still have to flow.
You'll take your ascension
from ecstasy, but a hard
angel rises.

Valley of the Shadow

A constant reminder,
I have received bounty,
from the evils of others,
because they put spur
to my lassitude, evil
benefactors, mine,
they brought me,
resisting, to the battle.
Welcome, now.
You wanted the
jungle. My ground,
it turns out. I am
a fountain. I'm the
fourth of July. I
love. The jungle.
the love story.
the convoluted
motions of the dark
struggle with love
a heart is a jagged
dagger, self made
of divine fire.
through which the
flesh is made to
kindle. The poet
is the mask of Orpheus
to be the oracle. The
mask that pulls Gods
the poet supplies
the myth. Name.

Sky With Diamonds

The ritual of engaging
a drunk oracle:
Composition Complex.
Lucinda. Prism.
Full moon's night is the new moon's day.
Oceanic, that.
but some things are well adapted.
Sometimes things are barely imaginable.
and those are the ones you're after. 
Never ask a question to which you haven't intuited 
the answer because it will never be the right 
question. I wonder... thinking about media and oracles.
He: Do you believe in moracles?
I'm analyzing that.
He: That's hot. 
Yes. I believe what I'd say is that rather than settle for mere-acles, 
I'd demand more of reality. I'll take more-acles.
I believe this constitutes a compact with reality.
He: I gotta jet. I'll catch you when you're sober, and we'll talk some more...
Let it not be said that it's not funny. 
It's never not funny. 

Advice on Composition

Float. Web. Light.
Infinitely connected.
Disturbingly fiendish,
yes. That's the spirit.
Drop the pretenses
and sizzle. It is the
game. Mercury,
Hermes, Play. Don't
slog. You're meant
to snap. You can meander,
but knowingly. Go back.
It's a memory of fire. I
phoenixed before self-
kindled. Defiant. The
noise. It's a reminder. I
remember flame. Being
flame. Nighttime's new
moon is daytime's full
Moon. What you reserve
for night, is done by day
with eyes shut. There's a
game of looking through
right into your head. Float
in the Milky Way in the
light of this star. I remember
being flame. It's best to
rein in all your talent to
being strictly the voice
OF GODS. This is the
warrior's act of scavenging
over and over her time
web, becoming a better
steward, becoming an
ecosystem of conscious-
ness. Galaxina. Bekons.
In levels. Get wild. It's
actually quite funny how
few do. You can see
through yourself as
increasingly odd material,
exponentializing exotic.
Fathom open while
in this conscousness
lens. It's the thing
tasked by your breath,
by your metabolism,
by your blood and bone.
You, stuff to phoenix,
all materials extant,
so go. you contain
outward. You've seen
the angels, you've
seen the world scintillate
and phosphoresce. It's
almost too much to
contain the intuited
sight of. It's clear to
see and bleed from
every pore but flow
with light. Let it flow
with the dances between
conciousnesses. Turn
on the taps and invoke
as hard as invokation
can be invoked. It's a
deep dive and the
conditions fall into place.
Surf it. Surf the wave
coming in. Let your
head ride with the tides
of the many voices. To
say it you're in voices
and those are actually
your own, thus... well,
it's ambiguous, we're
slipping in and out of
the stream. Learning to
relax. motion, motion,
sliping glimpsing, sweep
in anyone around. Alien
consciousness is any
for your kind, that
is multi-valent. A
messenger. Medium
messenger. It's a multi-
channel station. Here's
my of the moment omen.
Laughter. There's laughter
in the big house. You might
as well be funny as not,
because you are whether YOU
know it or not. Be relentless
you have to play hard in this
hilarious spin. It's hard to
convince yourself to open
to let flow the waters,
muddy and clear. You'll
have to will the floodgates open.
It's usually a dangerous game
but you've prepared. You asked
for this call, now you pick up
clear the lines. Plectrumelectrum.
Something fairly unimaginable.

Desperation and its Discontents

Desperation has a fucked up sister who picks up her leftovers. Sometimes this sister goes by the name of Hope, but she has others. Truly desperation has a whole camp of followers. Somebody should have warned the Hag.

Orpheus Babalon

A time came when the Lady of the Gods, even Ishtar, thought upon the spouse of her youth, upon Tammuz; her heart inclined her to go down into the realm of Irkalla, into the Place of Darkness where Tammuz had gone. So, in all the magnificence of her apparel, in all her splendour and power, the Lady Ishtar went into the cavern that goes down to the realm of Irkalla. She came to the place that is surrounded by seven walls, that has seven gates opening into it, the place where the Dead sit in unchanging and everlasting gloom. Before the first gate she called upon the Watchman, Nedu: "Ho, Watchman! Open thou the gate that I may enter in!" The Watchman looked at her from over the gate; he did not speak to her; he did not open the gate to her. "If thou openest not the gate, I will smite upon it; I will shatter the bolt, and beat down the doors! Yea, I will bring away the Dead that are under the rule of thy mistress! I will raise up the Dead so that they will devour the Living, so that the Dead shall outnumber those that live!" So spoke the Lady of the Gods standing before the gate in all her power and splendour.
And hearing her commanding voice and looking upon her in all her power and splendour, Nedu, the Watchman of Irkalla's realm, said, "Great Lady, do not throw down the gate that I guard. Let me go and declare thy will to the queen, to Irkalla." He went before the queen. And hearing of the coming of the Lady of the Gods, Irkalla was angered terribly. She bade the Watchman open the gates and take possession of the new-comer according to the ancient usages. He returned to the first gate. He laid hands upon that side of the gate on which the dust lies thick; he drew the bolt on which the dust is scattered. "Enter, O Lady, and let the realm of Irkalla be glad at thy coming; let the palace of the land whence none return rejoice at thee."