God experiences doorways and sings lacrimosa.  Narrow doorways outlined gold and red coalescing and collecting geometry.  Sparks.  In the experience of mirrors:  pulled and reversed through infinity (Alice Alice Looking Looking).  The mirror is a doorway.  Requia artist y muses.  Writing a dirge that reflects in mirrors.  When one looks into the mirror, the multiplication mirror, I cannot determine the who — who between who — whether Christina or I in the character of the narrow acid doorway — We converse many mirrors.  Death named Christina speaks from a mirror — I hear bells, she says, chimes chiming.  Do not worry over such things, I say — I am Death also — invincible to death as you are — that is the result of our Oaths, the heritage of the stars, Snow Water, elements hydrogen and noble gas, metallium metals, unborn heavy metals, quarks quack quack, Middle Kingdom and Oceania — red Loveless booze woozy / We control Chaos.  Pure Water runs over the mirrors and our indiscernible reflections (two in one / looking through the glass darkly but realizing ourselves to be fully known; we fully know the touch of silver, each other’s faces, grace and gods, humangods death and Death invulnerable / Death we gossip death and Damascus death and kiss death mate death and born / Death Name — ghostly — no puncture — ceaselessly.  Control the accident.  In the individual mirror, in certain perspectives, warping — the mirror becomes water — a stone across the water.  Our mirror is like water, Christina says — and we traverse through it freely.  We reach each other but first we must get wet — we must take the dive, a risk.  It’s dangerous and that is why we enjoy the reflection rather then the leap / The stone is biology, mathematics of escape.  This is where time becomes space.  Depersonalization space.  Time floats space.  In the faces of persons there are no faces — blank facial features no smile no yawn there is no “ben” to return to — you float like a spirit, a first century Thomas — walking in a slight breeze with ash trees to side (the ash the brash branch trunk swallowing metal teeth plaque) and those disembodied faces streaming like salmon jumping containing probability names example Johanna Lynelle Amber  Jenibelle Vianca Tracen (trace trace etch sketch coke can trace)  Kaylee Tailynn Tangia (if meeting her in Tangiers kiss her once for me)  Benjamin Joseph Nucum  Christina Marie Smith (her Thomas turked and tucked).  Their military march — attention — and frivolous conversation.  Close your eyes and hear the music, the found recordings.  Myxozoa feed flowerfire and mixolydian.  Such protest — protista prost protest.  Christina spheres — the galalored-hyper, locally true, examination true and in this (music) (sound) of four spheres in the human body.  Euclidean our faces — unmistakable, unlost.  There is no “ben” to return to — only the mother of Christs, sacred relics — multiplied relics — and tombs dug beneath churches.  Open.  The trees.  Like a library walk [the slow large glass doors and multistories and puns James Joyce would envy — country matters — business short buss — and creak up the stockstodge elevator — the safety certification expired two months ago — and third floor music scores and scrutinize maybe Ligeti’s Requiem or Elliott Carter’s String Quartets (duo tempo duo   duo becoming solo become duo as independent and together) and walking leaves the tropicals of books, useless and laptop lap dance battery].  If one notices the details of these trees in close proximity, closeness — in the realm of the unreal a sickly sick with various weapons — observing, witnessing — walking outside invisible prison bars (biopower black iron prison — in the dark here I’m in the dark) there is a quietness — birds, chattering electric motors and carts, rolling timpani wheels or pine needles falling and being raked by a sorcerer’s staff, Chinese Tallow Trees in memoriam, amplified greek towers.  Through lookingglass through coloured smoke and winter light.  I guess we flirt with death — the fascination of death.  Basis is the Love of the Paradox: Life containing death and death giving life and a mirror is in-between.  The Paradox is the stasis and spanning.  Sometimes I think it is a prayer to the contradictions (If dying before the wake no soul except the entity of my body taken, the life itself given and a small prayer to Sons and Children Christian).  In detail several realities overlap and create one: Reality as solution — superposition principle of boundary solutions — spin superposition — all probability states existing simultaneously / world states.  The Gospel explicate several realities of Jesus the Christ and Female, where he simultaneously says Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit recorded by the disciple Matthew and Blessed Are the Poor by the Physician Luke — the foundation is paradox which is inherently contradiction but not one false and one true or both false.  The contradiction reveals True as finite primaries create infinite secondaries and both become Truth and exist simultaneous (perchance histories of histories and dandy historical — document and manuscript this for the Grammar — marriage Grammar and salutation grammar for this alternative and alternate or as separate speeches on the same mountain or mountains as the statement itself, a statement of discourse — Blessed are the Poor — a blessing given to those who are in poverty — and Blessed are the Poor in Spirit — a blessing given to those with spirit poverty.  The spiritual poverty isolating Faith for this was no cause of Faithfulness — those swallowing camel and straining gnats — and the statement itself is secret in the sense of Nicodemus who came to Jesus in the night of nights, fearing the statement — for the discourse and statement is something to be feared, for it transforms and then transfixes.  Transformation as in a Dirichlet problem and conformal mapping.  The History is then born of water and spirit and Christ becomes Marie History and the Grammar — meaning comes tumbling afterwards — meaning dependent on the formation of the Grammar and not arbitrary upon the Language — Language Spirit being Language Passion and Passion is never arbitrary but the very Death and Seed.  The Language not a linguist but a Godspeak because the Sound creates the very thing it symbolizes — the meaning depends on the sound of the word.  YHWH saying Let There Be Light and if He spoke any words differently, the light would cease to become, YHWH’s voice – sound – the attached to the text itself. Thus the Poor and the Poor in Spirit are the same history and discourse because the same Meaning gives the same Blessing.  Then there is no contradiction but Unity).  Blessed both are the Poor and the Poor in Spirit — the Kingdom is Yours.  This is the layering of realities, the superimposing and superposition solutions of realties.  Again, the slight shifting in Christ’s chronologies — the Birth of Christ occurring during the reign of Herod circa 4 before Christ (a contradiction itself) in accordance to the Gospel of Saint Matthew; Jesus born during the Caesar Augusta circa 6 Anno Domini in accordance to the Gospel of Saint Luke — or John placing the anointing of Christ’s feet six days before the Passover, earlier then the other Gospels.  This is the missing hour in time.  I once awoke to go to school, got dressed, and went to class and to my surprise, the class was gone, missing; I looked at my watch and I had lost an hour, a complete hour.  Somewhere, simultaneously, another Ben arrived to his class, safely, on time, to the rejoicing of his peers.  There is no “Ben” to return to — Philip K. Dick began to see Rome superimposed on 1974 California and did not understand WHY — then — time became fiction — stopped as a spar box — and it was 103 Common Era (super positioned 1974 Common Era) and time did not resume (again) until the discovery the secrets texts at Nag Hammadi (particular structure oeuvre, book, or text — Zodiac cipher or Minoan A or Linear Elamite — if one dreams the correct dream [we were like them who dream] sleeping three times to be awakened in Gethsemane — three days grave — glorify the dream and understood Alike).  This the transposing and construct multiple (coline) realities — membranes — the bubble / I do not know (who) stopped time but the multiple chronology is the nature (native) of the Paradox (Branch-Tarkovsky [soviet harbinger play] duplicate harbor and Lower pondscot net — Choice — the Faith — and abundance abounds).  The Paradox is Christ Nature — Son of Man – I AM — died with and Jordan.  When you know yourselves then you will be known and you will understand you are children of the Living Father but if you do not know yourselves then you live in poverty and you are the poverty.  Whoever knows the Father and the Mother (Mother Mary Mother Marie a magdalene a hovered / carrim) will be called a child of the whore — the Lady Rosary and whiteness round a ring of roses oneing stoop last shall tell whom she loves best — disciples I love you best — knowledge best — knowledge Mother Whore not a Whore but a vagrant womb holding a Christ Child or Jonas Michael but not touched by any man but godman a shaman — but Michael, your prince, who is your name — against stars and swipes, a coddled Roman soldier a runaway catching some perfume or nard and gladius to be alive, cuts down like a picked fig and rests under the field of shade / in and out the dusty bluebells and hand bridges.  There is no “Benjamin” to return to.  Only simultaneous, double happenings, the doppelgangers — der doppelganger double pale companion the moon showing his own features (my) features, in the house living my treasure who left long ago (but Sophia is about to return — not accepting before by the contraband the borders the bar — now the Christ and Sophia marry one and marry me and return to me as a treasure buried in a field hidden and bought at a great price).  Lucky is the Lion the human will eat so that the Lion will become human (insect to hare : bird to snake) for human is to be sinful.  And foul is the human the Lion will eat — the human remains sinful — but the Lion will still become human, for the dead are not alive and the living will not die but the eaten which is dead will become alive, and the human is still sin, a jasper of a gad.  But there is also no difference.  The inner the outer and the outer the inner upper (river) like the lower male and female into a single one — image in place of image: a time and a time, a time in a place of time, a reality and a reality, a reality in place of reality — no difference.  One, and the Kingdom enters the Kingdom and a mirror enters a mirror and black becomes black and Benjamin becomes Christina — I am you and you are you and eleven is the number of revelation.  Show me the stone the builders rejected — that is the keystone.  A makeshift ladybug.  That is the violence is no difference — I guard your death govet Marie washing bloody armor in the ford — Macbeth’s armor, Cuchulain’s armor — prophecy of the ford battle Our Lady of Sorrows — whether weather caulfield death or sword by the oysters die — violence disappearing individual — no individual but Us (and silent trees, witness trees, golden trees).  Prison bars and modular buildings / Separate the amphitheatre where no one calls and gives apologetics — the echo (echo mirror house) is empty except for birds, Francis Assisi birds, and God does not forget a single red plucked passenger.  I give imaginary apologetics — drink from my mouth so you may know me and become as me (downstairs in the dark room stainless steel black room and tied and cut the inner thigh Christ Maid and suckle the curdle white and red) / Will not taste death nor the tedium of quantum immortality.  Hidden things sprawl forth.  (What is the evidence of the Father in you?  It is motion and rest like an Easter Switch chasing foxbows and pussy willows (the elflocks rest and pearl carbon anew, muscle fantom and miss a mountain of the cannibal god.  There is no “Christina” to return to; no “Ben” — when the mirrors recognize Us and do not distinguish what is return or going, then we will have tasted the Kingdom (the Kingdom (the Kingdom within you, tasting you and devour, and I will become the Kingdom] Dear, this is my suicide note — this morning the blue book (achievement has a book; locus book the Rabbi sworn of and could not close himself) and test(ing) pure joy brothers — I couldn’t walk into that bookstore — stared at it for awhile and walking, like emerging from Browning Colt Model 1985 fire a death special, a jacket coal dance, distance from the buildings, a kingdom, the mustard tree, and into separation, the distinct.  Christina, I need to get the hell out of here — the innumerable mousetrap or ape set — and sleep for the longest time and not feel a body or consciousness.  Coming through a rye a rye coming through a rye a trace of a body.  Boiled fat and marrow of unbaptized babies).