1.
Wedges of gestalt
between glass and steel buildings
pushing for thoughts to do more
to be both stronger and weaker
than before
not asking for changes in context
not trying to go to more board meetings
than ever before, not intending to transcend
2.
Hardly seven years
lie between them, the closeness only
an outward indication
and postcards sent from mexico
and no chocolate
historic paradigm of blood
dividing the lake from the riverbank
some aftermath of this war
3.
Little white houses
across the river, such beautiful
expressions of principle
not universals but
usables and
taking a short nap
manifest on the level of sound
some choice of genre
4.
Crystal simulated moments
chains of inspiring provocations
"without pain" he was
called by his friends
"Emmanual"
four registers of voice
sounding out for all to hear
some humane gesture
5.
These Hegemonic tasks of
re-volutionary
Literature
celebrating the beginning
of "art," reweaving
the thread—bad allagory, bad music—
as it were, the inner shell
the boundaries of gentleness
6.
The final "kether"
no need to walk out much
anymore, or take
those figures
thrown into
such sharp relief
fading from the approximate
into relative qlippoth
7.
Only seven minutes left
no need to call our friends much
anymore, no lake of fire
rising phantom-like
out of nowhere
such rhapsodic songs
coolly developed—time standing
still, lusting after life, playing by heart
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Comments: 3
Your language is evocative and spellbinding at times in its braided mantic phrasing--"some aftermath of war", "some choice of genre", "some humane gesture"--as we realize that we are separate from you but following in your vision's diving in and out of the possibilites of literature to express consciousness.
To punctuate or provide beats for the reader without a polyvalent awareness would only allow him to provide himself an illusion of control over this work, a sense that meaning can be contained: Sorry, Lost Soul, it's inapropos for this work that retraces self in different phases of discovery, inviting the reader into its feverish hopscotch from sepiroth to sepiroth as it deliberately shows the speaker coming undone as performance, as an attempt to self-represent. This work is open-ended and porous and crystalline and invisible for a reason: It is only a mirage of the consciousness it emerges from into language.