Thursday, January 5, 2012

Kafka at Natick

The old Jew was beautiful
Mortal beyond the schitzo assumptions
As law is like a black dolphin, and
Carries a boy
Whose ink is blood
To eternal unions

Her menstrual mist
When viewed closely
On the surface of the mirror
Was composed of fine
Carthaginian tents

Embroidered with diamonds
With odd external pouches
To carry fine lutes
Of alabaster
Of a soapy pink colour

The old Vizier was beautiful
His solid featureless pink eyes
Were rolled back inside
To watch an iridescent flame
Or fountain
Of pearls

Whose whole surface
Was a mirror of the infinite
The indefinite
The vulgar divine
Whose joke was the gravitas
Of graphein
Unknown to living symbols
But never to conquerors

Bubbles in the blood
flash frozen
When the creature
Reached the bottom

To freeze so quickly
The arc would become a room
חַשְׁמַל (khash-mal)

Irronism’s fatalistic joke:

Bad money lam[b],
We sacrifice our energy
To call-lective bilding (עֶצֶר)..

“I came into this world
With a beautiful wound (gash-mal);
That is all I was furnished with.”