A Night With Yoric by Klaus J. Gerken (2011) II_3_1 Bloodletting (1972) by Klaus J. Gerken the lay offerings Part I 1 for Marion the world was drenched in rain and like the power of retreat was lost to window panes + packs of cards and making love the thoughtless "steady time" of the universe the galaxy the the silence that matures whenever even now the rain has stopped the sun is out the star is like the river floods the sky * radio on sitting vast and warm in sun light plays upon my face * the winter was the greatest part of summer that we knew looking forward to the warmer minutes drinking wine and running madcap through the melting snow laughing singing joyously * should have cared if time would ever pass should we have tried to understand why we should "take it easy" for the future was ahead we knew the time would pass we knew that the future lay before us cast we knew yet did not care (share) why should we care (share) without the past there is no memory without the past without the past we did not care (share) let's go ahead let's go ahead and drink a toast for the passing of a chance let's drink a toast a good one now we must always think that if it is the last there's plenty more where that came from * there is everywhere a memory where time repeats a miracle of "stayed" invention (i am satisfied, why should i be? quite easy, that i'm satisfied because i am * sat here at this tinny type- writer dredging the mind's bottom for the words that before have drowned (there is music on the radio there is sun upon my face (there is truly life where once was life there is truly life where life is (kissed by sun through window pane kissed by love and through a film of time kissed by memory (kissed today by memory and tomorrow sun and moon and stars and sky and lovely girls that "softly cry" for passing days and know not why * and through what minutes where through what reasons where through what silence where when silence was before (and i have brought my love to you gentle child of innocence seductress of my life (that i have loved you womanchild so sweet (that i have loved come and let us be complete (born of earth and born of sky born of love and born of hate born of laughter born of tears born too soon or born too late each of us is perfect have our place beneath the organism of our universe * so read of this a hundred meagre words that dream again of life and live again for love remember soft that shifting sands must cover monuments and monuments are all that's left of mortal dreams in shadows of the realm (so giving this to be remembrance i drink the waters taste of salt and take my share of time upon my back that when i do what i have done i know that i have done my best 17 feb 1972 2 and with my eyes that i have sought the sea through hazy dreams and memories and that through it all have found not even stars or wide expanse of sky that was not obscured by thick and gruesome clouds of smoke (i curse the half that did this thing i believed not the necessity (and still i don't all of this i searched for a stretch of beach that perhaps was empty of debris but even when i went at night found only glass and cigarettes and paper floating on the lake (so no what reason is there so to speak of things that are no more should i cast away what i had in youth amassed as freedom and as life (life was beautiful and still it is LIFE i said and how much upon this tiny tiny world is left alive now that man, presumably has bettered it? 17 feb 1972 3 Whisky Poem too much whisky bottles drank like wine here between the sunshine and the embrace of winter (whisky-bitter live without the realm of life once i had a joke to tell i tell it once again with life becomes a blur i am seeping deeper through the purpose out of touch rea- lity reality i thank reality so much for bringing here me to this point of drunkenness i thank you very much reality (point no finger it ain't the thing to do point no reason out to purpose developed whyli-ann marion reasons for my song i love you this sunday two twenty-five p.m. this sunday in sunlight thinking me away to where i ought to be a-sailin' sailing sargasso sea hick (sorry) gerry - i too hope a car drives in here (inside joke) what about those tapes is cathy in vancouver yet there is no one here i checked see i'll even throw out the books and dust the place once over still no one here not even dreams tonight (wow it's hot here in the sun - blizzard outside somewhere if can find the window (let me get) the whisky first (let me get the key (toked my sweater off lest i burn into a crisp - cathy what happened after when that night i freaked what happened to dian to whoever else was there should be there should be somewhere here let me close the world remember summer was the same while giving party getting out i landed in a jail cell with swastika on the wall did not like it all did not like it at all (air conditioner too loud My Ears MY EARS i screamed and then got out cathy wrote a poem much to you cathy love you true too yup right (run outta things to say to say there's ever more to say the opium the opium is right is right corners of my life are black as hell shit what's the use of all these things the time goes much too slow the sun melts into my lap MARION i need you now how much for the reason for us giving sharing i owe you something like a life for the time you have given me in understanding silence silence of my life (even now i need the need of having you appear from out of darkness into light giving hope to me (i hope that you have time appear from out of the darkness into light giving hope to me (i hope that you have time or else refuse to read this all because you are too beautiful like love and life should not be wasted for too long and i am writing longer and longer than the time that i have spent in living dreams and hoping dreams of love or life of you i only realize that now i am no more a child can do whatever i please i have grown old i have grown old and growing old is such a thing as the terribleness of all the things that hg wells realized when writing time machine that lilly realized while speaking delphenese of other way about or judy collins sing along with moby dick you see how much i degrade the world of time and logic i want the freedom of a child do you want to to help me with i love you so much that time becomes obsolete as already so it is when i think of you my dear my darling dear my lovely goddess of the nether realm i fell that you will understand what fog this is that clogs my mind i hope and hoped that you would come remember me (but is not fair you did remember when restored the crucifix i said that that would hold us deep apart like god and mind the universe that floods within my light (and i would have hoped that you'd have called and even if you only once but the silence shatters me more like rilke's music shattered him to tears and feeling life to outer bounds of universal holocaust that is our lives (but no our lives or rather only your life cannot other be than that the life of the goddess speaks to word inflicts the love that clings to it you are still ophelia to me do you understand humming gently through the fog obscures us both (lord i'm getting sober again need more scotch) there is much gentle music on my tapes that plays to me (it is always tapes - once i saw some live performances that did some good i fled the scene that was not real impossible to comprehend impossible to separate the dream (i want you here my love child ophelia and what if i am hamlet death will take us all and really will it matter how? (let me get into the sun) i remember how when i was young i built a shack outside near the house somewhere in a field i lay upon the deck believing it to be a yacht i've been a sailor for so long that hardly can remember what the land appears to be i used to lie there just lie there thinking not thinking how nice it would be to be like this forever in the sun never to get cold never to shatter an image or a dream to sail the universe of non-identity forever and forever and forever and forever ad as long as time would flow the knowledge of our paths into the realm of gods that life is such and life is such it touch med not and even though i know that outside winter brews i know that here within my dreams i am fully comfortable and could sing along with nature's friendly touch and now again i come to you won't you come and lead me (like in cohen's dream) down towards some river like the amazon where neither of us could be discovered we could be there roaming naked through the friendly fields and woods would get a tan to make the city folk grow jealous of our good fortune oh come my lovely girl come and lead me on i am your fool to do with as you please i am the reason for the world i would love to be the reason for your happiness and so i do awake again to find that nothing's ever changed the sun still burns deep and good into my face and songs still are being sung by sailors long ago have drowned and i again am making sense which i should not do as once i said that dreams must be entirely free and so i sing "du muss mahl wieder nach st pauli gehen du muss mahl wieder bunte lichter sehen" certainly i love that song but is it ever that way now my uncle came to visit us and no there's nothing like that now nothing like that now the atmosphere all wrong very wrong gone o god why am i displaced why is life done me in i would love to be upon some clipper ship a sailing seven seas or no it's not like that we are all made a purpose in this world and what is mine i must find out that i suppose until i do i dream a lot but what can dreams accomplish except perhaps some boring chronicle like this that rambles on and on forever like the days and nights of loneliness (stop awhile gotta get a bit more shot of rum) there that should keep me in the sunlight for a while decided now to me that i must fill my liquor cabinet with wine and beer and rum etc i've lately found out that i've no more except for this lovely drop of whisky in a sherry bottle so marion how much you have with me to oh god what now! i've got ten more pages left to got and the stupid tape machine runs out now that did it changed my mood from good to bad shit what ever can be the matter with myself invocation to a lovely girl marion i want to stay with you forever even if forever is the end of us all there is remember you saying that you would die at twenty three or something like that? well if you keep thinking it you will come with me and i'll prove to you lovely girl that we will have forever you've got to come it's in my cards that you will come are you mad now that i wrote this thing? will you write me even tho u have been cruel to you with silence or even that i spoke to cathy much before please do not be angry much (i love you you are much as the day loves the sun remember that when the day we met and i told you that remember all we spoke about that if you had an apartment and that if you were free and that that if we were in love? remember dear ophelia of how it rained that day and we loved the rain and how the waters turned to plastic there beneath the sapphire moon that shone upon us through the lilac and the maple and in turn illuminated all the waterfalls they made when they slowly filled the locks and how the wind would carry us away to foreign lands where no one ever was before please return return to where the night was realized as if a dream it matters only that if i speak to you i will begin to know (wow this silence now is ominous (i'm rewinding the tape as has run out i was so stupid then i am so stupid now i've got to put myself in place got to pull myself together yet before the sun goes out of window range before i will again be left in the darkness of a loneliness i wan to love you so i want to love you more (this is a work to you in two million parts this is the first or third or second even what to know (i have finally gotten myself sufficiently drunk enough to write a million words of pure unadulterated thought (how about that now three twenty pm almost an hour i've been at this thing almost an hour i should want to be with you i have you now yet only is the dream not real god i wish that you were here i wish to god that you had come that sunday that i asked for you to be with me but somehow something always happens when together woulds't we come as if at moments critical to each to give strength and then are lost again as if as fate would have us be apart as such (a city stood between us for another year (a year is a damned long time so long a time in fact that i never again was to lose or waste a year i've almost wasted one wasted good i wasted a lot by just sitting in the sun here writing this instead of getting on the bloody bus or taxi getting there to where you are goddess rare and beautiful! * i shouldn't have said so much it's bound to be lost it's bound by universes that would have us be apart that force that seems to guide my hand (ah an there and comes the music once again (you realize of course that i still mean what e'er i said you have gave me answer once that i refused to take i can't explain or even if the gods would grant me reasons for what tricks are played on us still after all there's laughter too in tears my tears your tears everybody's tears tears and watergods i am not drunk as sobre as i got before there is music in my ears o and love me true there's a long song song long there's a song somewhere which is said we'll live together yet (it's not what it said i forgot that which i said and am making up o all o this since the sun is simple in my face and i am getting silly now want to begin to get good grades could it be regression no but that is serious my mind in tact and even if i was insane i'd be insaner if i was sane - - - --- i'm sensing poems other than this monstrosity]to you my girl that you will see that i am also too a serious poet there together yet i'm still somewhere between australia and the horn i'm doing a slow progress but that is good i've never thought delusions could be so real yet everything's so beautiful i'm being good again my love for the sea... (say let's get a yacht and sail around the world just the two of us i can tell you how it's done because i'm saving up to see it's dun done besides i'm selling "wasps' nest cove" (which we had thought would have thought fun to live on) and getting money for it and who knows dreams have a habit of realizing truth sometimes anyways excuse me all of this i'm so dead drunk that drunkenness is paradise of soberniness ness nest? ahhhhh again i'm running dry! i've only agot two pages more to go and am so running dry now if i could only find the typewriter keys there i've found them with mistakes of course i mean one don't make life without making mistakes (this all'd be good to study by a shrink as all of my stuff might be i think that we've got to make it got to make it got to make it for the universe that created me is no more the universe i crave as my personal possession my personal possessions is the universe that i can share you see i want again to share i want again to be something other i want the world to be something other than a dream which lies totally out of reach like this flying dutchman sails the southern ocean and refuse to be caught and done away with to the extant of extinction ka sa gratra mu byti fu su chu tu bi laso to pa sto tno mng k r uhk o h beaji into relative obscurity the wall is moving i can feel it better change the sails no the wind was only a sudden squall nothing to be got excited about you see the trip is solid the sailor in control the saturated summerspring days that were once my life before i got drunk and forgot to forget them all see marion i am quite sane sane sane sane there goes another quite beautiful poem that if could it have been real we would still together be instead of each of us here what are you doing now? i don't know what are you doing now i don't know that's the whole trouble i do not know what you are doing i am sitting here in the sunlight hot upon my face typing this i wish i was in greece i wish i was alone in the south pacific on a yacht off desert island i wish i was with whyli-ann somewhere in the amazon hunting giant spiders which i'd kill they are the only things i'd ever kill i have hated spiders since my birth this i ever tell once i killed a golden spider i was worried that it had significance for quite a long while afterwards but nothing happened just went on the world went on i once got to be a real good shot that i killed a sparrow in mid-flight once but when i saw what i had done i got down on my knees and wept like a little child i do not want to kill nature is so cruel why does she give us brains why must we be predators i do not want to be a predator i commit an act of suffering i suffer because of it afterwards "the world is consumed in pain" i cried i cried till once i slowly died o why do we have minds? why must we remember everything others will forget? i want to be like them the others and forget i don't forget i only make mistakes i am drunk i drink too much i do not even want to be be sober i don't want to wake up and find it's all a dream i do not want to know how many people were killed in belfast or how many children are starving in pakistan how many people are fighting because they don't understand why they have to be the last before the first why they accept the role god assigned to them why must everyone be the first what if each cog in a giant wheel wanted to be first and the largest wouldn't that foul up the whole machinery? certainly nothing but a good dictator will bring order into this world robinson jeffers was right who would ever want to go back? 2 - 4 pm sunday feb 19 1972 even the date is wrong everything is wrong is nothing right? 4 i the one who am so being loves to be lodged against the backdrop of a raging roaring tidal sea and then at ending through the clouds a symphony of light which makes my day come glad again i the one who loves to be alone against the blue pacific sky the warm pacific sky (gray atlantic shore i the one who loves to be so being as beginning dreams and burning memories * i and who have seen the storm i and who have been the storm broken now and wiser than the wiser man i was before i have given of myself would give no more except perhaps of sea and sky of laughter tears of human expectations human frailty of years of being years of being not waiting hope * there are crystal flashes on the broken waves of life the broken crystals being moments of the love we share the love receiving giving taking the love in shadows sunlight giving birth the love for everyone * there are precious moments lost when one takes the time to understand be and realize what is as is it is really only the explosion of a shiver through the winding road of searching truth through finding life through finding sharing what is hope to give * of course that everything is true of life as is of dreams fragile as the wind that procreates a universe (i am simple yet complex i breathe the freshet air bringing hope through bringing life bringing love * and now to be as sanity would'st have me be to nurture understanding i only have to say that even so to have been taught as teaching teaches only what is learned i say that i am dumb why then should a flower not be a flower save the process of the universe why then should a man not be a man mute beneath the stars i am as simple as the universe cannot be expressed in less than simple terms * i the one who am so being loves to be we the one who also am the being who would'st be movement that is all * life that is a privilege life that be a knowledge unabused life that be the motion that is truth 22 feb 1972 5 morning to exhaustion sun windless morning scraping laneway free of ice inside now thinking about the way it might have been a million years ago or more (sat in a cave raw skinned hair covered body brown tearing meat from bloody tendons of a mammoth stoned to semi-consciousness the ruggedness that has been lost to us the voiceless prisoners of age * where they lie the bones of prehistoric man where they lie embedded in the stone carved immortal through the elements will my flesh decay like the flesh of all humanity before * all the fragments that are death in death's own kingdom (the bond ship breedeth us through womb decay introduces us as food for hungry animals eaten now or cast away as refuse in an age that cd be bliss if only wd be realized as such * i come the morning flushes me through purpose of my being torn i am to knowing what to do struck dumb by reason for insanity racing like the wind through snow encrusted streets [and alley ways in which are hid whatever hiding the need to having women killed raped and murdered silence being what is life (no one can believe in innocence for who is not involved in what the city breeds?] * next the sea's effulviate emotion ponders us as dolphins whistle meanings strange and beautiful (xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (far more ancient mind than man itself refined by technical ingenuity * trident by political ambition destruction of this race becomes evident tursiops will be once again the masters of the rightful path that nature once has chosen still perhaps we are too guided by nature's bold and difficult hand perhaps we have no control even of the machines we've built to help us difficult our lives perhaps really everything is like a film that is not yet stopped and all of us like shakespeare said are actors on a stage acting out a comedy with tragic overtones there is no director and we have not as of yet learned how to direct ourselves * back and further back we go have we seen the light no to see the light today is to be insane to see what light there is * to see what light there is 25 - 27 feb 1972 6 It's all over me crawling spiders over me got to get me out out got to get me out of here moving being hidden by the shadows of my room even my own mirror turns the being that is me against itself i do not know I DO NOT KNOW i take the knife ceremoniously turn the tv off turn the music screaming blood encrusted ears through outer realms of breaking up now and then the process that is process that is that process which is that the realm of my being transfiguring through violent emotion that solidified through waves of gale force gale sweat runs heavy from my brow transfixed the eyes bolt precariously through the room is there something in the dream the other night laser beams coming from the sky and severing all argument of our survival i awake but could not understand i could not see i screamed amazed at being still alive and now the realm that has become the knowledge has been given me process of the individual universe process that forever will remain the stature of a separate universe again they come spiders spiders tarantula the venom sucks the venom from my mind sucks the fluid that is mind sucks the fluid sucks the fluid that is time sucks the being out of me now and the i question being what is being being is being is BEING is being that the truth it can be told that nature plots against the grain revealed therein madness' foaming bit seen sucked through the realm of virgin womb she whom god has been subjected to she whom tempted Iokanaan she who herself was all that was desirable EVEN OVER GOD but did he yield never did he yield never even as madness shook him from his throne even as burning eyes and sweat were means expressing mind convulsed in realms of god as the movement of her body from the bath sprinkling water (divine baptism and the oath taken as resolute expenditures (fire flames (burning eyes of Iokanaan as much as Artaud too was saviour of the pact "all of us are gods when god defeats itself" [when god becomes human] 2011 and vociferate the naked blade cold melting ice and flame total conviction to the realms of being to the ream of knowing blood must flow before the child is born 27 feb 1972 7 the orgy of intent bodies curled up like a garden hose intertwined and intermingled mixed confusion reigning free cast adrift in nether plane where souls attempt the graceful motion of defeat "there's purpose in defeat" he answers her whom god has let the nazarene convert "yes" she sighs and yes again until the agelessness of gods becomes the chaos/form which represents all of mankind at his best bright lights play upon the senses like a wilderness cocoons its purpose from the slaughter that begins with "Sergie's" sequence when the workers baptized did not yield and everything produces form from canvas to the world from foam in polluted waters to the folds in brains and cocteau' opium or artaud's theatre wherein the image is the world of pounding hammers on the wood of pounding hammers nailing nails into the wood of pounding hammers pounding wooden spikes into the hands of jesus christ whom john had brought forth from dire obscurity to martyrdom (for what is best to bring a life to bloom as giving purpose to the doctrine ? for what is better than to have a martyr who is willing to die for a cause ?) even god has brought us cain even god has made the serpent lucifer at some time in the past (even the gods err) certainly just look around how far away are we? and we are turning as was always said by those who did return by those who fought hard to find another way and did they find another way? never only to return again to find the search was futile to the end and still we search in circles endless circles do we search for that which others told beforehand was the truth (and what was the truth ?) "the simplest things are last) " each and every one of us returns to whence he came each one of us will find that all we do is play the "circle game" and so we play the circle game producing purpose after we have done (perhaps if we did no purpose ? what then ? 29 feb 1972 8 a world that be the altarpiece where blood free-floweth from the body unto earth (be alert and be alert the dagger that was hurled through the thunder of applause and phthisic madness struck the side of him who was not struck before he was betrayed * (yesterday a spider crawled upon the floor (i fell as slayed by distant dreams as memories - and as many fell beneath the weight of wood imported from a distant land (and the wine that which was given him (and the spiders crawling at the rim of life's cup preventing life from gripping death slowly silently as socrates dissuaded friends from saving him saying "can it ever be right to defend oneself against evil by doing evil? rightly so only what does evil signify ? 1 march 1972 9 hale and ice upon my face heat of snow or cold of sun melts into fortuitous design (what is the life that has any worth ? nothing save then perfect balance of a perfect humanoid (and what do you consider a perfect humanoid ?) the simple as opposed to difficult (and many books revolved about my mind many images strewn about in vain confusion shouting shouting message gone flatly fade out the pastures to await the slaughter of the pulse throbbing throbbing end to a perfect game (artaud while renouncing everything to eshleman "it splits apart" and through the realm of thunder ice and fire to attempt a soliloquy a pantomime in which the livingdying come to be criteria for the elements as earth and water fire and air i the animal of earth explorer of the sea the breather of the air the swallower of fire i the animal of god the bringer of destruction or creator of the living death i the taker as the giver (i the baptist giver of the water for to turn to wine predecessor of the martyr who himself becomes a martyr to the fabled cause of love "TEMPT ME NOT!" and grave concern for purity of heart Earth killing sky as water floods the fire man kills god as god kills man "i was born into the process of decay to rot beneath the clay that bore me up from out of chaos of ensuing floods!" there is more and ever more is yet to come ... and as the scriptures where the myth one of who plays a "game" or of one who tenders the dissection of what god is or what he aught to be he then is no nearer to the truth than he who lives in waiting for the end of life (and what or when is the "end of life" ? the end of life is when we cease to care about the needs of fellow man - perhaps end of life all life (i speak not of society) and even so i converse with god! i the one who knows him not! alas alas the world is done already has the "civilized" society produced itself beyond the limits of the earth the earth (fire burn wood water to fire that which is ice upon my face strong like breath in winter song when nearing spring fancy spring spring which tempts the body tempts the soul traps the mind melts the spirit and body into one heats the sexual appetite (and i am like an animal seasons spring a trap) rabbarabbarab ka the season strikes the stone which strikes the spark which drives a madness thru our bones ...and everything resumes the "purpose" of the gathering (baptism by fire calmeth us thru eyes aflame also mad with burning vision non-restrained to dwell betwixt the gathering to be aloft from all the worldly horde to dwell alone with god or goddess (one in all and all in one to be the self restrained in heaven or in hell on earth or so in limbo in the cunt of ISIS * rabbadab rabbadab da da da "in the beginning was the word" and the word was god's (let there be light) the predecessor of all the gods in the beginning (and i am drunk on wine and sun - i am drunk on the happiness i find in a woman's face the reason i become the reason i am willed a man (sperm in her vagina as i am whole again. * and i the eater of the flesh i the maker of the life force tolerate infinity. 1 march 1972 10 room without windows white room (piet mondrian (artificial rose painted white "nature's creation a mistake" still the notion vanishes we are capable of going beyond pain if pain is only regarded as a step to something greater (and as the notion vanishes towards the universe towards infinity towards geometry the first and final rule * speak now of rooms and how to use them speak now of a place on which the reason for survival comes unglued (what reason for survival is there save to live ? but then we tune in to the question "what is life" (the truth is we don't know (and rightly so for it seems that if we knew we'd probably destroy it right or wrongfully (smile ((once you have been processed but again like so many times we digress we speak of rooms rooms for testing thought rooms for making love rooms to be alone for a day or for eternity "small and dark rooms discipline the mind" leonardo said he perhaps was right to discipline the mind is sometimes best (the personal comes on too strong (to be inspirational is much too cold (to discipline the mind to find somehow the medium the fulcrum by which to catapult one's thoughts to others who might understand or perhaps might sink so low as if to say that "r.d. is far greater poet than r.g." and perhaps g.l. might understand that is for each man [ ] there is a special mode of conversation a special way in which he may communicate ideas (words that matter not words that form a secret oath (words that form the hidden meaning of things like the white room hides the green hides the beauty of the earth hides the beauty which is nature's truth (mondrian and still your mode of living is the mode which solitude must take for solitude is much that more of what we take as imitators of the universe of creators forming separate societies in which the purpose stains the walls stains the pages writ in blood the purpose which begins the motion round about while white rooms blot it out or bring it near for 1 - 2 march 1972 11 it stands written that in the beginning was the word (which word and who's ?) let us study that the master said "one greater comes after" ever and eternal through the gates of wrath (for so many who were stoned refused to take the narrow path (there's enigma here certainly; and who's to argue there? if the world was man's then god was also man like us or on the other hand if the word was god's then who was there to listen and record? strange indeed to take the narrow path and separate from all the rest or take the road which leads us on in blissful strategy until the meanings stand erased , of truth and purpose which lies hid beneath the few inadequate gestures and expressions that we have ? there stand the roads where many fall as madness takes its toll many prefer to have another a road that lies betwixt and yet there is a road yet different than they wouldst have it be a road uncharted difficult to find if sought for in an easy place a road which lies within the mind itself a road perhaps much harder than the other two a road of flaming daggers burning minds (the word may save or may destroy this road depends most on those who would give up life as they wouldst know and enter the realm of the inviolate (the realm of aquert realm of solitude (i have now been here for many months to cast myself adrift in timeless wastes that span infinity as if a fourth dimension were at hand (but, unfortunately a fourth dimension would be much too simple far too simple in the understanding of this path a path that perhaps will never lead to god perhaps will never lead to hell a path whereon we may be trapped without the hope of ever finding truth yet that is just the chance we take for the simplest word of understanding to expand the mind towards a cosmic whole a complete and pervious entity a universe that is one's own and can never be another's most times never to be explained most times never to be gotten rid of most times the passion of a burning cross burning daggers black burnt skin and flaming eyes (escape is never here ha y a'ck h'a ka and with the wind we come to take our fill as prophets without voice who have given up all earthly things the prophets functioning upon another sphere a flaming sphere far more terrible more beautiful than the kingdom of the world and i am he who comes before (with destiny fulfilled i will vanish one within the flames which i have kindled ha y a'ck h'a ka plummeting to earth the meteor (the thunderbolt of god plummeting to earth the coming of a christ (or perhaps, as some would say we only wait to no avail) but waiting is the game "and he who is not ready he will never be" 3 march 1972 12 as worse might come to worse better is the truth and the truth is i am weary as much as life as death as much of purpose as the "vegetating" of my soul and being being there as opposed to living and living as opposed to LIFE!!! and purpose being what is life as writing is the living/dying breath that i have taken in thru *weltklug* and thru the ambivalences of spiritual fulfillment (spiritual defilement Savanorola thru the image of Artaud Gerken thru the image of desire * we (body/soul) lie in waiting being near and far from truth being on a roller-coaster ride (to find the farthest/nearest point to where one is at near and far here and there yesterday tomorrow never now formula presents regression ascension opposites i/they there is always distance as produced by works often only informing of a "presence" never whole to be complete intact (to be frozen solid never pervious or to be absorbent mobile as the water is fluid intermixing (then where is the self ? where is the entity of a singular activity sustaining force ?) ( i see the reason for life as something along the lines of a self sustaining universe - that each of us is separate, yet for cooperative purposes must become fluid as a river passes into the sea. become a complete absorbent unit. yet that is *political* in ways. if this becomes the case it it would assuredly mean the destruction of that "indevi- dual power, as each single experience wd be the experi- ence of the collective whole. i do not believe in this ab- sorbant whole in life as one knows it now. perhaps after death, when we are dissolved into the process of decay once more rather, for now the individual or separate entity has full reign - thus making it vital in "finding" oneself before one may be able to find others, and then, perhaps be able to produce a total interlocking unit. i am not quite certain what role the sexual plays in this as of yet, nor the implications of mass "sensual contact" as is conducted nowadays by some scientific and psychological organizations - i realize that bodily contact could help bridge the gap of communication, yet the "spiritual" level cannot be thus related, as each individual tends to be somewhat differently orientated that the other person (hence the "individuality" syndrome) - for example, there are some people to whom a square looks like a circle - (( as an extreme example )) others don't like the taste of fish, or celery, some are subversive to the colour red, yellow, etc. the list goes on and on. how then are you ever to explain, say, to a person who is subversive to some type of music, sat, to "relative euphoria" that some piece has put you in, etc, or you to understand why the other person cannot tolerate it. - there are some persons with very sensitive skin who would not partake to being touched etc etc - and the list is end- less. then to be able to explain to these people, one must truly know how to process of self acts upon his mind. as Confucius stated "before a man may have control over a whole country he must first have control over his own house, and even before that, himself." one must know a lot more than just to say "i am" one must know experience and thus make the knowing the finding again a part of that experience itself one must know and understand stimulus one must know which part stimulates/irritates one must understand the limitations of his/her body (( the mind stands limited as much as dreams are limitless ad here we arrive at the dream/real visualization of the mind a timeless mind subjected only to the limitations of the body while alive (suggestive as a whole "i am one with god still not yet one with life" powerful: for sure where is the answer that precedes the question the fable that presages truth yet rarely do they meet rarely are one and the same a person has three lives the sages say 1) the way in which others see you 2) the way in which you see yourself 3) the way you really are they are also rarely one and the same they rarely meet that is why twins rarely see themselves as look-alikes that is why to us "all Chinese look the same" that is why "all Americans look the same" to the Chinese (it is always the little things that make the difference we more or less all look the same two eyes a nose a mouth two ears are all arranged the same in each of us it is the scrutiny of differentiating (whether the nose is long or short, eyes are squinting or large and round) between... but we retreat into the features of the face (which to be certain is the outer shell of inner thought) (the eyes especially always search the eyes they tell the most for anyone who can perceive to anyone who dares to understand that nothing is the truth as such it seems (the presence of experience is always near so why try to hide behind a false and artificial mask it will only turn out looking worse than what the truth will be ) a clown may wear a painted smile but the eyes vacant wear a sad refrain (we have come a long way yet are still nowhere near the truth our main purpose was communication between separate minds - we have come now towards the "hidden meaning" of things ) each dream itself stands separate apart yet intertwined with total form (experience and by cross computation can and will develop more diverse experience than the subject has in store (we lead on towards progression of images (cross computation ((work in progress which are all the form i make (as creator of the "steady time" sequence of events (i.e.: the stoppage pf time in order to investigate (at times i realize the shortcoming is the form at other times and most it is the words themselves (digression is the building up of processes evolving thus the form that is ideas because ideas become the progression ("if in dream you live today what you had done yesterday would you not be living at the instance same together past and future present, now ?) as time evolves as time revolves thru influx of the question gathering together the formation of the answer giving birth to solitarian quest in nature's articulation given to the birth of reason given to the birth of purpose given to the birth of hope 4 - 5 march 1072 * * * for marion this wine i do not know! it tastes as if the blood of GOD! that i am afeared to drink that i am afeared! slowly and slowly i pull the dagger from its sheaf i articulate the motion of the reason why i fear (for i have devoured the blood of god then i am whole again until the eagle vanishes and angels take the place of her whom i now wish beside me now woman so divine that i am almost lost for words unspoken in your presence (woman you evoke such qualms in me that i sweat and shake with fever like the difficult liturgy of a dream lady come dance for me the dance of death i have found my life in you o goddess of the infinite i have drunk the blood of god for you for you (cannibalized myself such to show the sacrifice i make (for who wd drink the blood of god but god himself ? let me come to you woman who appear to me in inner realm of love and air of closeness augmented by the distance of our "time" let me enter you in appreciation of the realm (in appreciation of the tree that has planted roots in me (let me enter you o woman of my dream let me enter you as now the wine does enter me (as of the dagger burns as if the cross has given me the right to sacrifice to god to sacrifice myself to the woman who is most like the presence i invoke with walls of glass which fall apart beneath the alter out of coming close 4 march 1972 * * * walking walking i must walk walk through snow encrusted streets walk until the end of time proceeds the steady me proceeds to ready me for the escape which when comes makes final all that ever was before makes final all that ever was 6 march 1972 13 then obliterate the world strike dead anything that yet is living strike strike strike anything and everything that moves anything that breathes anything with heart (and as the world revolves from innocence to innocence but not the same (experience has taught some to lie (experience has taught some yet as much as we are free/enslaved as much as we create our own society within the one that clashes like the colour red before a yellow wall (then obliterates the world i do not care have cared too much already for already has begun the decomposition of resources that might proffer nature more than man for already has begun the presence of a god that has begun to build another world in anticipation of the destructive forces tearing at his own (perhaps if he didn't try and build another one he'd still have his own (perhaps if he tried to save his own instead of anticipation * perhaps the stagnant stale ma'at ka 6-8 march 1972 (fragment) 14 (fragment) ponderously close to everything we are gotten through the notion of a regaining of matters precisely though time/less element of "reason" (motion of decay einstein in his theory of relativity states that as one near the speed of light time will retrogress as one goes "against" time it speeds up (we ourselves must ponder which way we are headed * thru illusion and dreams the world clams shut (we remain only as observers to the cause and the cause being evolution evolution of the species evolution to the point where the superman 7-8 march 1972 15 stammering illusion thru a maze of time and timelessness came upon some dream that told of flaming doors unopened yet as still before the coming of the lord red flames yellow dark brown/mahogany door open where the doors melting open like the plastic melts into smooth effulgent shapes that do not move/or move in winds of time/lessness infinity a large room stood in stately awe before me there (did not enter though but rather found myself a-foot along the streets of this city late one afternoon coming from somewhere i had not been there was a store i did not enter (same store where i stole some rye bread when hungry once and woke when time was done (but still remember other images melting into breeze frozen deep in mind thru time/less waste (i enter now a universe again and to remember slow time prophesying life as gift to god/less realm (living/dying almost gather profound silence thus far (thus far nothing came of it thus far dunne has proven nothing save then crossroads lie *within* the mind rather the mind within it but so much for that the dream was never more than just a dream no prophesy no promise of the life to come only the storing of the images that are trying to be got while still awake (thus the reason for this work to produce an image without further evolution of it's "purpose" or the means it came about the "conscious" dream as opposed to the "subconscious flotilla of the mind" and mind as opposed to "brain" (god becomes the bodiless entity of time/lessness (reading an article in some magazine (time) about the use of poetry to gather information to the isolated mind (( i.e. the elevation of a pressing situation by subconscious expression in the work of art)) it wd seem to me that this is what *creators* are actually doing in the first place it is not the poet who creates a great poem it is the public which then conceives the requirements for that particular work what a poet then actually does ((or an artist, musician etc)) is to conduct a search within him/her self for the elevation of certain 'mind blocks' such as i have noted before that a person's notebooks are more 'cre- ative' than the works themselves as the final product tends to obscure the person itself tends only to be nothing more than the poet bowing to the stipulations of 'accepted' ends that is why this whole 'exercise' tends to take the aire of a journal or notebook which it sort of is to really decipher it all wd take a few hundred pages of notes thus it is a very difficult work with many repetitions as the junction between god and time god i see as a bodiless entity a "cosmic mind" which on death we will enter thus losing our own identity which is based more or less on the element of time this then also becomes an experiment to find out whether the "individuality" the "i" of a person can be kept when time is tossed out needless to say i have not succeeded in casting away time i have though found that by will one is able to slow it down considerably (to speed it up is an entirely different matter as to speed it up wd mean to go forward and as this is already the natural course time takes the energy expended in this wd be considerably less and almost involuntary (much i am certain depends on the state of mind the individual is in as when one is feeling "down" time naturally seems to retrograde to a slow crawl and when one is exhilarated the opposite is true yet i feel if one wishes to lengthen the euphoric feeling and slow down his/her personal time one is able to or will be if one finds 'order' (ma'at) first one must be able to understand one's own mind one must be able to be alone for long periods of time one must regain his/her *own sense of timing* and not follow the accepted rule that is spelt out by clocks one must just remember that each of us has his/her own "time mechanism" and that this (with practice) can be controlled by controlling states of mind ) "patience is the key to knowing self" and thru tranquility to god the essence of all our being the essence of our life together yet apart (apart or yet together gathering bits and pieces of information gathering bits and pieces no more 8 march 1972 (10 30-11 30 h) * * * with my trusty ol' guitar i shoot down seven innocents and meet death half way towards the fiddler who attempts the beer barrel polka without strings (so now that everything should be now that everything should trusty morning as we waken in our cave with wild breezes of my face (skin browned by the sun love love love me every woman in the realm body soul and mind it is all the same union of the elements (kissed by sun and kissed by stars kissed by voices near or far (in the backseat of a car with my trusty ol' guitar let me sing the song (even voices without voice even fiddles without strings even fingers without rings make music shatter night as the printing of the print reverts to art. 10 march 1972 * * * 16 powerless we are beneath the claws of fate unassumingly we provide cannon fodder for the meaningless to accept the morning of our lies we were poets once or at least *i* was a poet once or thought myself to be the motion of decay was all too apparent when i began the long climb downwards into hell hell that fantastic- al place wherein we are cast where no thought comes where every curse is wrought out of us or into us where flesh delivers painful longing and the mind burns terrified by the separation of the limbs i am dreaming i am screaming in my violence fevered brow drooling mouth bloodshot eyes and i fell (hoe o fell beneath the horns of taurus beneath the horns as sharp as daggers tearing at my flesh as sharp as thorns upon my brow (the crown given to martyrs it is said you should be proud i was proud that much i'll admit i was proud but never more all of that has passed i am now alive the "i" is me not as some format telling me that it must be as decreed (it was never so decreed but some say it was and some are better than the rest (others are but somehow never will be (i am but not enough to procreate a universe sadly tho each of us built a haven around his/her life sadly tho we never seem to touch enough (d. morris) we fly apart never knowing what the other does never understanding what the other says (i am the other he who has for ages lived alone in solitude (to be sure moments where the breath of fervent life and love crept in (but moments such as these were rare moments such as these were only the beginnings that were ended when the solitidal force (strange and dismal force took me to the distant realm of memory and dream (how many times were those when i have cursed it and the cursing the absorbing hate was that which left me finally desolate and blind towards my own fabled fate made me lose control (many forces tearing me apart i fled i fled into myself i fled and found myself hiding truth as truth was hidden from myself and what was/is the truth never even known as now never even known self is that which is the universal whole truth is that life is never what it seems truth is that is will be no matter how long you prolong it the truth is that spirit that was once within me now has left the truth is life which i refused for selfish reasons reasons that had words like pride and fame within their accursed structures i found the poet was not there i found a scrutiny i found myself alone frightened as if a child lost beneath his bedcovers in the dark i am still afraid of the dark only now i see spiders and a dagger lodged within my heart and the dagger hope is only death death to eat my soul death to burn me to a crisp as were the flesh of savanarolla the soul of artaud i know that if i burn i burn because of fright and not of pain i burn because i see myself a wasteland (just as t.s. eliot said) (just as holan said) i also wept to hear the voices of my dreams were no more the voices that were real "control yourself control yourself" they said and as they passed i accosted them in anger "never will i be as they never will i be the same never will i live as others live never die as others die" and again they answers me "per- haps you think yourself a god perhaps you are not flesh at all well take the dagger then" before they said much more i bled and found myself a mortal like the rest and still i bragged in letters that accosted men of reason those far better than the god i thought i was i i repented of those repugnant bursts of childishness i repent of everything that brought me nothing but regret i as rimbaud sought the gold the key to all creation (i never found it i never will i know the key is never found the key is the key pandora used to free the furies i have taken for my gods i repent of everything and everything is no more the universe i have made around myself will be dissolved from earth to earth and dust to dust i am only what i am i am only he who searched for the truth of life and living sun and hope but hope that is still another matter may the rest absolve me of my foolishness (god who has created me god who is so just... 10 march 1972 * * * Statement some eat flesh i eat flesh some remain as i remain some die i will die some live i live some burn i burn some remain i depart some are frightened i am frightened some are old i am old some are warm i am warm some depart i remain some love i love some hate i hate some depart i depart some die some i 11 march 1972 * * * 17 god who is ambivalent (the wrathful god of vengeance god of everything deemed righteous and good god of everything god of hate and god of love god of heaven/hell living/dying yet forever thru the past that has been played by players of a different sect moreover everything in life becomes a blossom open/shut to elements or whatever yet has been existence whatever yet has been conferred upon us thru the ages cannibalized by man everything is hate encrusted love encrusted wrought in cast-iron rage defrayed thru wars thru murder rape thru loving life as loving dreams as loving woman loving man "animals that we are" (i have murdered righteous love thru the scrutiny of living life alone taking meals alone living life in words and deeds of words that stir the page thru understanding understanding not (and the wine that i have drunk intoxication to be one with god and nearer loneliness than emptiness will breed despair (and what of despair ? despair by a non-relationship with woman man with life ? what relationship possesses the mind to break apart from nominal forms of understanding such that coming together is the part that is most difficult ? what causes the mind to be apart from living life as living dreams and living what has been created to be taken unto the captive monument of 'page' ? reading what some others read what some others find is not enough "experience is the teacher" otherwise the rhythm does not yet become a life (and what experience have you had ? who can tell the experience that i have had has yet become another dream as dreams will be forgotten till the page lies filled with images and words and what if we decipher the images and the words ? what then ? certainly that they will yield a clue to anything my life may be to anything my life will become a clue is not enough and even if i knew to where the footprints in a virgin soil may lead and to what but i am purposeful in now attempting what my mind casts out whether 'cunt' is yet another universe to be explored or only nothing other than the 'animal' in man (the man i have become thru shadows i have seen the lovers vanish in the night thru silence i have formed a bond with woman through lyrics of love i have spoken yet to no avail the form of 'mother' the form of god/dess is ever near the form of rebellion / what form may it take ? (the charts say change the year of change a child is in the opting a child conceived of my seed a child who's presence is the presence of the universe created from the particle of matter versus anti-matter such and such again the split that is within me such the split spells the pleasure of the flesh or so the pleasure of the mind (the limit that the body substitutes for universe or the universe of mind that has no bounds i myself can never tell (the image of a woman that before me stands (the image right behind the image of a monk hermit monk one who seeks the desert wastes and i alone with scorpions and rock (the image of TIAMAT struck by thunderbolts the image of APSU weeping in the chaos (god created woman and such she is divine god created man in his image such there is no doubt the image forced upon us by MARDUK god is so ambivalent man is so ambivalent woman also such as she has been the image that is woman is the image that is love for a child the image that is man's is the seed the spark upsetting balance (ma'at) marduk to descent and bring to us again the balance yet the balance of another kind the force that ARTAUD prophesized the ant that nature threatens when an area becomes too dense and food becomes too scarce the removal of the force of TIAMAT (only now the strongest will survive woman now abandons child while invading territory of APSU it is a simple thing for animals but man's mind has become much more than this man's mind the mind that has produced SOCIETY SOCIETY that which is the evil waste of life SOCIETY that will become a wasteland studded far and near with the graves of suicides with the graves of men and men with the bodies of women with woman with the bodies of the children without mothers children without fathers children without love. 13 march 1972 18 logon : that is the WORD (christ spake fevers thru the wind Iokanaan waster of the water in its scarcity logon : when the truth is spoken so shall the mind rest yet before truth can be spoken truth must be found what is truth ? we are first of all concerned with the male/female relationship (i.e. the bonds that bind the universe (creation we are concerned with the substitution of the mind for the limits of the body man versus woman woman versus man (and athena rose naked out of chaos bringing life to primal dawn (and woman's nature is her birth in giving birth as man's nature is to be alone the image thus envelopes place each must, or has his/her place and that we are broken by command cannibalized by fact by the mirror has become our minds in dreams and broken images disturbed at the level doubt but there is no level doubt there is only *certainty* certainty of what ? that the presence of woman brings fever to the mind such your body shakes hands sweat eyes follow with desire ? YES ! and LEOPARDI presence of escape no not to escape woman but to escape the issue of expectancy to become oneself no bonds binding (love and women bind me mind comes dull with jealousy (the image of woman *your* image of woman is sacrosanct the fear of loss woman tempts me most like woman tempted him (Iokanaan i fear woman only because she will take from me the order of the place (ma'at) order to become poet (order to become divine (woman takes what she has needs to take in giving birth the order that which has become my life "to fathom self before to fathom others" * the power of love (to fathom deep the state of love to "fuck" is hardly "love" love is the union of the body/soul love is not "erection" love is not the pick up of a woman for a night (love is not the impatient desire for a honeymoon love is fathoming the body/soul love is knowing sharing giving respect as union for the purpose of creation and that creation *is* the purpose of sex that love is the deepest most promising development of that creation that sex becomes a 'wanting to please' instead of 'taking to be pleased' that love entails respect that i respect the woman that i love such that love becomes the psychic bond between us even having known each other never more than just thru sporadic moments cast together out of *schicksahl* (that the love we share will never give way to false decay such that we will be as are together always * and the word (logos) is the bond that binds us the crucifix i have in giving love thru understanding not thru understanding of what is 13 - 14 march 1972 19 immobile to the word (logos) without order (sand ma'at) caught beneath a slab of concrete like a worm to scrape the land providing fodder for the fishermen and jesus said "launch out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught" for we have caught the largest fish and that is has gotten from us such that we (makers of the word) confer the aggravation of a lie what lie ? the lie of aggregation the lie that binds us into saying happiness the lie the lie what lie what lie ? any lie this lie as the darkness comes so will the light of day brings us to decay can keep us or destroy / and that there is trust in every mariner "gods will help only those who help themselves" and the one who trims the sails the one who takes in hand the tiller guiding craft through elements guiding self thru the arteries of god (and god is kind to those who trust him (amen) (what will be will be) whatever giving self or giving self whether taking as the giving is the taking back before the asking of a price god is helpful; to give strength which is already there (and the lie which is already there is also there and always there (the false face dawned by everyone (the laws of state or laws or self god already knows how much he knows for what has become is to be cultivated and become the element of hope the element of hope which is our only means (the aura that envelopes man the aura giving heat (we are mammal hot blooded we are ENERGY and energy can destroy energy can breed decay without the order (ma'at) of the mind as Jesus walked upon the waters and as much as simon was afraid (as much as john the baptist was not when kept the promise to his god (and that my mind again comes dull from overwork from energy given forth thru word and self denial thru the energy which has become the driving of the force that is my life that brings my eyes to search the eyes of others for trust to be the trust of god who will not come before the trust is the trust that can be/will be freely given without question of regret (such as water is the force of life such as oceans are the hand of god the elements that will keep alive the innocence which all to soon disintegrates into nothingness (void) and that logos is a means of finding ma'at and that whatever we may walk upon the waters such we drink the blood of god such we accept the mountain that is there to climb and we climb it not nor even yet to try is sacrilege for all depends on the attempt (for god helps those who help themselves so and such the sequence of a dream to wander now towards the matter of the truth the matter of the fact that life entails (sacrifice of self to light the flame sacrifice of self to find the flame to get a glimpse of to understand what god has meant for us 13 - 15 march 1972 20 (Dream Sequence) and such that it was so that i was walking down the mall that i was irritated difficult and cold that i fell down to my knees praying fervently so that the police came and wanting to arrest me for disturbing the peace and that i became violent resisting arrest until a priest came saying "leave him be" and that they left me then (a crowd began to gather) and that i kissed the wooden rosary beginning now to sweat with eyes cast inward up to god and then i began to cry and that this old priest took me in his arms as if i were a child ad that i asked to have his rosary and that he answered "no my son i am not at liberty" and that i cursed him there beginning once again to cry in anger and that i did go with him weeping in the service of the lord and that i had joined a monastery and that i was torn between the passion and the birth and that i was torn between the flesh and the soul and that i was accosted by a man and that i refuted him feeling nothing but disgust and pity for his soul and that next a woman came and that i was afraid and that i was ready and that birth and rebirth both were in my soul and that the love i felt for her the love i felt the passion of her sex the force of cunt the force of gathering our bodies from the earth and taking from god the act of creation like an animal that i felt for her but i did not leave my post which was prayer and was god beneath the anger of revolt and that i dawned my habit that i sang the vestal hymns speaking softly broken half deserted in my faith (and that again the face of a woman came and that in my dream she was a virgin and i violated her that i lay with her in desert sands and so drank of her breasts the blood of god and that she was far more beautiful than the image of my christ and that she arrived again and thus again thru fog and then thru rain and that i went with her to any place that she so desired for our making love (once we lay on ragged scraps of bones once we loved each other an the remnants of the long-dead and that once i saw a man and that once he laughed a sickly sound because he did not understand the passion burning in my soul and i took up the cross and saying words of violence conjured up the violence of savanarola and that he did come thru the eyes of antonin artaud such i heard the words of the lord upon his lips such i knew the wrath of god such i read the omnipotent innocence which so became the arrival of a christ (and such the woman came again and such she spoke to me in silent tones such she answered me such i gave my crucifix for a night with her in the hope that god would grant me life thru birth and that suddenly i awoke and found myself alive thru emptiness reading poems working thru an age where virgin universe is fucked by the silver wings of NASA (that i saw no future in the sky only seeing trampled ground burned out places of the long-dead and that when jesus came again there was nothing left and that it should be such and that the burning eyes where black with anger fear that the baptist could find no waters that were fit for virgin limbs and that the virgin earth the virgin earth was virgin once again 15 march 1972 21 (Dream Song 2) and again it was there somewhere in a jungle land/hillbilly land southern land northern bush country somewhere in a corner cut off by a lake and a road that leads on down towards an intersection where more fields transcend the distance turning into fog i found myself alone after a long nights travail winding down the road in drenching rain and as i entered found the whole place wet but warm and was satisfied and looking out from the kitchen window i could see in the next house or cottage/shack log cabin that it was a woman undressing i did not want to spy so i rubbed the wallpaper free of water which had gotten in by cracks next day i walked down the road joining a party of people about my age three men and a woman conversation difficult but moot and we were in a friendship and that we went past a stack of dried up wood when someone suggested to the girl that they go bathing and they did and she stripped naked to her waist and jumped into the lake while her partner jumping after her later fucked in the bushes but this we were only told and then the scenes changed to a bright summer day sat before a cabin in the sun smoking drinking wine and conversation getting sly looks from the girl wholesome country girl (and remembering about shotgun weddings gave her cause to come to me later on that day and then we really fucked fucked good and long until the sky vanished and the universe revolted inside our heads we were married and the motel appeared in rain but rain was good and everything was good and brown eyes involved with mine and her skin so soft and browned by the sun and her sighs made me want to get inside and never leave until there was another time another place another scene a deep evolving scene where there was a party somewhere near the place that i am at now and that the queen was there and also many others too and that i tried to make it with her eldest daughter only we were separated by some others lying on the grass between and that i then left and walked along heron road until i came upon a land which was fenced in and that the fence enveloped me and that i found a way across and that i finally had gotten free and a woman the presence of a woman awaited me and someone said that i was free and that i was very glad and smiling woke up as if the day had dawned on one of jupiter's moons * a strange dream perhaps but yet no stranger than the most dreams that fathom deep the soul that hides beneath the blankets of perception (and that we try to be god attempting to decipher them without the notion of regret for that they were beautiful dreams and that it was fun to be lost within the mind and have adventures that could never be and that would ever be the freedom of the mind the freedom to express the probable aroma of the night-gods plundering infinity and that i know that i was glad and that i understood that reality whether in the state of dream or the state of life is all the same intermixing/intertwining states that are perception of the realm (fathom deep my heart there are stories never told there are meanings never understood colours much more real and vivid than before fathom deep my heart for that being is not only the state controlling your place in history it is more much more... 16 march 1972 Fini ANWY II_3