fictional supposition edit

On Hegel and the aesthetic philosophy of beauty
She reaches to entreaty the gods of art
Those beings who suffuse
with words, emotionality

And charge again a vessel,
Translator for a modicum of grace
And risk in exposure.

Melted, melded and emboldened
Subsumed by a love.
A crater found again,
And reopened a wound
where It was regarded before.
Time has a way and maintains their fealty
This time she affirmed if implored
But that's just conjecture

Be this evocation of feeling 
fleeting or unsubstantiated,
or lasting,
Still she is subsumed, moved through.

He welded by her light
She constant in her wanders
As earth after earth empties them
And he would sigh as skin pressed
And he would sigh wordless

Leaving cogent disquities
to the ephemeral passage of time
If they could just but meet in minds 
a distant projection 
of a farmhouse in green fields
not far from a train
to take them there
and back again
living day in and out
resting and rising 
bodies together
then apart
then together again
all the while
superimposed
both carried in tandem, 

A living trust
in a theoretical universe
If they could just reconcile concordance

Presently either denying or desiring that which
rests at her foundation
the high calling of muliebrity 
manifested in fulfillment of nature
Relevant only in relation to another
They will not trespass on that thought

She would battle her struck wonder
​And he would sigh as skin pressed
And he would sigh wordless
Welded by the way he calms her

Let it be enough, this backdrop
known from a distance
as an apparition of sense

And make due
She with him, without him here.

mistress

mistress, mistress
where's your witness
when the light hides
when the night widens

I swallow my sorrow
like a seed
silent and effortless
nothing but emptiness.

Gnostic Memos

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enter the void

enter the void
wrap around my milky meter
no sense of feel
the click clock of my tick tock
fragile substance vascular
repeating

keep beating

up and out by force of will
i will not trespass on this
i will not repeat it

remnants of past
transgressions
peeling away

all my projections falter
sputter stop
incomplete

why shouldn't it be me
not close enough to the bone
and I run
and I run

climbing a never ending stair case
sisyphus week after week
pulling out my insides
up and out by hook or by crook

the bondage of this life slipping away
let me float in that cool calm
let me dive down deep

yet never given release

whether you see this
whether it's just me
it's irrelevant
fini

as believing is creating

it was if they had to keep believing in it
or it would not exist
as if they needed to keep feeding the flame
making it known
stoking the fire

would it not stand on its own
and pass the test of time
to remain eternal
as eternal as this fleeting lifetime could reason

how much resolve must they muster
to buoy their idyllic hopes

my must wrestled and dashed
by the reality of the days
as they stretched out before them

there was no certainty
as certain as they were in the moment

it was as certain as they wanted it
the future being what one makes it

my must mustered to stay constant
belief despite past failures

dispel these doubts
unattached to the outcome
i build a bridge beyond false hope
to reach the future present
as the words and dreams projected

always hold onto hope
and have faith in what you believe in

the clang of the dust mongrel

the clang of the dust mongrel
bangs inside my rib cage
suffices as evidence to my anxiety
drops to bottom in hara

content I should be in the
space in between
messages suspended in time
as it falls away, reaching toward
later in the day
as I get further and further
distraught; detached in my dissociation

feigned ersatz abandonment
impatient as a child

others are not like the one
do not occupy my mind
create not unease

i cannot control response time
i cannot control the sentiment

reason beyond all reason
eludes me

as in my mind i am evaded and pushed to the margins
my liminal body requiring agency
the need to be seen and reinforced
as if there was a question to the case in point
as if the reality of what is felt did not endure

assumed to be on the outskirts of mind
yet ornamented truthfully at the fore
decadent, defiant.
At the core.

Bright like the sun shines through darkness
the mongrel transmutes into a radiant light;
a beacon of well being.
it cannot cope without me within these borders
it sputters, fades
and dissolves.

when the gods have no reason

Here the ridges are words,
And on the last day
Night became
Like water in the stillness.
We searched for meaning where there was none
and sufficed in the
Flesh form as only promise.

I sunk my covet
In the ground of an apparition,
Modeled on a man
Wealthy as a teacher,
Or treacherous arbitrator; my
Healthy ambition restless
And needing of an answer
Which would not save.

We control nothing and
In nothing we bring anchor
Against torpid reason.

But now is my kingdom.

I revisit my half traveled regret,
Availed of nothing.

What is enough?

Grand ambition, architect,
an irony composed as our life
Would become of truth.

Instead I slip inland
Looking for your mad mother
Or mine, or my father
In hollow halls
In the wood paneled rooms
Emblazoned with owls.

Now I guard against
the pursuit of the things of earth
Erstwhile magnified in the
Material of bodies
And closet the hearth,
A barren witness,
To the heart troubled
When the gods have no reason.

11/7/2010