Friday, July 11, 2014

Let not your heart be troubled, but let it be a blind urn bubbling in the garden, a toiling of green flames intertwining with cool water

for I am the tooth
and the whey

and no face
will come to the water
without me

no garden groan
without my reflection

for I am pale
with groaning gardens
as you are
a heart of bubbling urns

as you are heavy
wreath-snakes of acorns
and roses

horned olives
and thistle tongues

there are infinitely entwining mansions of bliss and horror,
and like twisting mirrored bowels, there is no beginning
and no end to any of us, for we are mixed up,
as the barley with the fox,
and the maidenhead
with the munchkin

and wheresoever you go
i shall go
and others too
a large other

and though thou
does not seem we
mine shall be in plane sight

form mine shells
form mime shall
be as a herm clock among you
your father other
your pharm-ther

your great lines
as they come to you
go farther into spelling
we know the knot dost whithers
and we know the whey
between us

and the hyphen brrnthweenous
reveals this
we are both the vulgar historical personality
and the leafy eternal abacus

of syntaxis

the great work
which like an explosion
is also a labyrinth
frozen in slices

the beginning of everything
of great beginnings