Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Horus Descends on the World Garden...

in the hawk world's
ice blue oven coven
and arctic calm
in the hawk world's eye
stellar stoa commit
and hawk
especially descend

talon commingling the southern polar expansive
or nameless massif assassin's colingering breath
the garden of promises
hydrogen fluent in the cold

Pan in arctic gear
hooves in leathern bootsocks
The slanting pattern of his thinking
old comic books frozen to the faces of mummies:

Why did Doctor Moreau
name me Socrates?

Does hemlock grow
in Palestine?

Akhenaten meets Pan
in a small ice station near the alien crash site.
Their words are muffled beneathe the blathering snow.

Noise foundering the great barge.
Hide our faces from the sun, the golden qaf:

qdəṛ qtə̣m sawəq
ləqləm ləqzạ̄ẓ
`lāħəq gāsị̄
agmār  ggəz

la`mī šštī ddwī

The blue eyes of Ahkenaten are the color
of feeble thinking, but hard and frozen,
but in them, the white Horus

ponders its dive through the stellar cold aroma:

tṭħ̣ā ləf`ā ləhwā ssmā

zwr to die
zwr to day

Pan is nothing but a shoe, a she-shoe
for the ice of Akhenaten eyes.

A black pyramid near the north pole
is warm to the touch.

dwī dwī dwī tsizbəṛṛən

What is the meaning, Pan?
White hawks descending on black pyramids?


always a beast, as Doctor Moreau once told me,
then, back to the house of pain...

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