BioHaZart
I am here
behind my crashed
snake
watching a ledge
that has broken from me.
The orange sky
is sentient
and tinctures what sentience
is left of me,
looks through me.
He who knows Himself
knows his Lord. Selah.
Blue scales
scratch the snake corpse–
the watery element
in
absentia.
We wait and wait
too long too long
for the noetic equivalent of rain.
If it come
will it soften my ledges,
scour my rust?
Yet here is my black iron intransigence,
the acrid insomnia of my lust.
Oh Draco . . .
This present moment itself
is long ago
————————————————-
Charles Stein, Barrytown, NY, 28.08.11
Unspeakable You
Oh, we were standing
on the left side
of the embankment
watching the “views”
fall like water
in the shadowy gorge
there was an elephant
and the ear of one, etcetera,
but the old magician–
something like him–
stood,
on the wall
attempting to haunt
his own paradigms
but reflections and reiterations
rose from the depths
roaring,
erratic, edgy,
wind howls
at any given moment
Being has us
by our thought of it
as if the indenominate background
to all our jagged sculptedness
were the calls
of an infinite mouth
sustaining the pointed, grand intenionalities
of the mind we wore
when we were
simply ourselves
wrapped up in
credible histories
that the magician
on his balconies
were the product
of those selves . . .
as their signal operation
toward a grand displacement . . .
that he appears just now
as if to rise above
again, again
all his echoing scenarios
before dissolving
in the insubstantial coils
that long and long ago
had swept him hither . . .
—————————————
Charles Stein, Barrytown, NY, 16.07.2011
Tomographos
we were there
at the interstices
where all that blackness
perpetually inverted
and now we are here–
light exploding through the tooth
of what strange tumescence
that the will to being being
indeed perdures
———————————————–
Charles Stein, Barrytown, NY, 23.06.2011
A nameless derivative
above
the median
fencetop
horizon
we collect ourselves
from a timeless
evacuation
vacillation and return
you must search
my mask
for my eyes
presence
hath no
quality
before itself
thus the instructive
necessity
of every sentient
monstrosity:
to slake off the erotology
of attention
for that to which we are drawn
will fall away
until the jowls of hunger
the rivers of decrudescence
the hunched and muscular shoulders
that lurk and threaten in the mist . . .
Only geometry
remains to evolve
the archetype:
an accord of diagrammatic space
such that the blue jellies survive
the holy goblet–
its shape, that is, that is
more puissant than any shadow
ululations of blueness, silver, bublets
that might be eyes
below below
skeletal incandescence
embryonic
enframing outline reenters the entity
the crystalline blackness at the bottom
encourages
the incorrigible
sky
—————————-
Charles Stein, Barrytown, NY, 2.12.10
~~~~~
The Yang & the Yin of Me
~~~
Bird of Paradise
For a long time I thought the earth
was a bird, a blue one, wounded
by a heavenhawk or who
would dare to do that to
this bright broken business
and now the image answers information
it always does, one picture
spoils a thousand words,
nobody knows what I know
nobody knows the bird it is
the bird will be
savagely like a drunken sage
indigo-winged wobbling up
to be new
we hurt nothing.
We are only who we thought we are
and the bird thought too
but the bird was right.
Apocatastasis a feather fall’n.
—————————–
Robert Kelly, Annandale-on-Hudson, NY, 22.05.10
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~~~
~~~
Navigation Chart to Nowhere (possibly bogus)
or the place itself
for there’d be no
aerial photography…
so certainly, the chart then.
The scrubboard whitenes, the horribly contaminated
puddles, wells and springs; the impossible concentration
of mammal blood, yours and mine included,
in bright sun
in May or anyway springtime the evidence
that instead of cloverleaf, interlocking crisscross
fat brush highway or outdoor parking garage–
parking garage. Familiarity and tedium
the last word of “civilization”
uttering itself.
The thinkers that imagined panpsychism
have their supposition or if you prefer insight
ghoulishly verified
in the point of view, not a point really, but the wingspan
of the last giant avian
hovering
over nowhere
scanning
without report
for a place to land.
————————
Charles Stein, Barytown, NY, 07.05.10
~~~
~~~
~~~
German Expressionism
we were there
on the other side of
whatever side
it seems
that we were
(t)here on
the earth and its urbanity
riven, rifted, breaking
apart suave beauty, the ceremonial
manager
pocketing his take without so much as a glance at
that which
he had engineered so gorgeously, egregiously
too late for that)
he waited for the griffens
to arrive, the hatter rat with the salt, the regal lobster
sailing
interrupt and entering
aerial view
the hatter magus also, his downward arrow,
dorje,
delta–
And the savage masks are poised above his shoulders–
how queer those torqued horses, if they are horses
how lordly their deep savagery
transposed
and do we release our need to reprove the horror?
all parts and anthems
all cries
all untampered-with vitalities
all vitalities stripped down to their final rigor
all rigors unjoined
from their vital corporation
when all the eyes are just too small to celebrate
the happiness
removed from which
these dark and sumptuous seeings
are to be allowed their flows
———————————
Charles Stein, Barrytown, NY, 04.16.10
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I’ll See You in my Dreams (03/10)
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