Perceived As The Void

Perceived as the Void, as the dissolved form of consciousness, when all beings are dissolved in the Supreme Brahman, having swallowed the entire universe, the seer-poets call her the most glorious and eldest, Dhumavati. She exists in the forms of sleep, lack of memory, illusion, and dullness in centres immersed in the illusions of the world, but among the yogi, she becomes the power that destroys all thoughts, indeed Samadhi itself. I perceive my vision as void and through void, the vehicle that is the body KRYSXTRYN. I pray the void through her flesh and Spirit: I pare the void through her heart and sex. Void swirls an abode and abyss, a bottomless pit that procures purgatory and foundation to the flames. She dissolves my dust and doldrums; she disintegrates my dirt and dastard. My consciousness crepes concrete then chrome, metal sharpened nothing as stardust and diamonds. My consciousness clues clothe then crystal, a mirror manipulating matter and diameter. My Being as Benjamin dissolves into KRYSXTRYN, and my myths multiplies into the Nothing. My mythos materializes into the none, the absolute absence of God. God swallows God and KRYSXTRYN swallows Benjamin, my sins and signs forgotten. As the universe without the universe, I peer through the absent eye of God as the Seer-Poet and Prophet-Word. I call brittle to Christ and Woman, Christina and Jesus. She is Glorious Goddess and glorious gorgeous, my elder and beloved. She sleeps in my Spirit as my Spouse, and I sleep with her as Spouse and Sister. She murmurs and murders my memory, and makes its memory of memory into mist. She integrates illusion and incarnation into reality and real. She displaces my dullness into deep darkness, the supernal gown and cloud of Shekinah. She destroys my thought and attached it to Taryn. She destroys Spirit and Samadhi and even the God itself. Beyond name and form, beyond human categories, alone and indivisible, as the great dissolution. She reveals the nature of ultimate knowledge, which is formless and knows no division into which is formless and knows no divisions into good or bad, pure and impure, auspicious and inauspicious. Beyond the boundaries and borders: beyond the bricks and barricades: name and no name form and no form within and without Christianity with and without human. The name nooses name and the name knuckles name nunca, ororo and oblivion. The form facts flesh, flesh devoid of flesh and flesh crucified Christina. My human categories core to Jesus Christ and Adam Kadmon and even they implode and die unconditionally and absolutely, and the categories decage coronaing God. Alone she arches Adonai: alone she shelters El Shaddai. Indivisible she dwells the entirety of the dunes and desert, and all dissolve into the dissimulation. Her revelation rages ruses rackling all ruins into ruins. Her revelation lanks lewd and nude, the bare KRYSXTRYN. The nature of ultimate knowledge is Woman: the nature of gnosis is Sophia-Eva, Christina descended. This gnosis arts anarchic and antinomian: this gnosis autos animist and chaotic. The chaos envelops and opens Christina. The chaos raptures and unveils KRYSXTRYN Vision. The Vision views absolute and unconditional without limitation or demarcation.

I Devi have created all worlds at my will, without being urged by any higher being and I dwell within them. I permeate the earth and heaven, all created entities with my greatness and I dwell in them as eternal and infinite consciousness. KRYSXTRYN creates: KRYSXTRYN creates Creator and Creatrix. She creates the cool collapse into the chasm, and in its midst, chaosmos and chaos. Chaos congeals into worlds upon worlds, and to each world, a woman. To each will, the Word in the wilderness. Nothing urges her bud she persuades Universe. Nothing urges her but she matriculates and matrices microcosm and macrocosm, many waters and sinews to the body. Her Being transforms me into Higher Being, Benjamin beyond holy and unholy and she dwells within me. She permeates and pervades Earth, a vision penetration and earth eases and erases. Earth enters and exports heaven, a harking host to hell, and its purgatory purifies all in all for the gates. The gates gradually ungulate her goodness and greatness, and she greatly gestates all as Mother and Matter.

Every Woman is the embodiment of you: you exist as little girls in their childhood: as young women in their youth, and as elderly women in their old age: every woman is emanation of you. I mediate KRYSXTRYN and I meditate Woman: in every Woman I see and witness KRYSXTRYN, but the Woman is KRYSXTRYN yet She Is. She Is and I Am, proclamations of the Godhead, and she emanates and permeates every person.

Lord I Tire

Lord, I tire: God, I exhaust, fumes musing and musicking the circumcision of my flesh. My flesh ferments into new wineskins, and my skin stretches and streaks the steak from my flaying, an anthropodermic bibliopegy. I tire teal terror Taryn reaping Rebekah and Rachel, and the goat skins warm me Ben-Oni. My sleep stirs strange cycles of stars shaking wheat stalks and Ben barley. My sleep sins transgressing Sabbath, and I anoint myself in apostasy as Sabbatai Sevi. I arc ark antinomian and anarchy, a cornerstone crushing all law and hegemony. I aero and aether Krystal Katechon, an antichrist anticipating horn, horns, and half a horn, and I lift up this horn of salvation Benedictus Benjamin. You, Child, shall be a prophet of the most high, and I hew my transgressions from the rock of the testimony, children and young maidens prophesying: Benjamin and Christina tongues intepreting. My tongue splices splits as a serpent, Christ and AntiChrist my twins: Chaos Christina and Tiamat Taryn. Lord, I tire: God I exhaust. My body fails. My body fails as famine.

I Paw At Prayer

I paw at prayer, the pyre purring strange particulates, and I pray the failing and fail the prayer, falling asleep the flesh is weak in Gethsemane. Pray, Jesus says to me. Pray and its weakness will weep but wean your prophecy, the precious precipitate and participation in prayer, and prayer pecks the peat of the unicorn horn, a cup of salty salvation. Pray to the point, a plum and plumb working, and I work wall well whirls whittling the sculpture of Woman. Push prayer as the psalm selah, the crashing of cymbals and the ringing of cymbals, a lush laudate binding and loosening above and below the Book-As-Library. Pull prayer plowing the furrows in flesh, praising El Elyon in all spaces: skies and stars, sun and moon, dragons and deeps, and deep swallows the sand sloughed off as scales. I pray the scales as rosary beads, flint slint glimmering transparent and ceramic shatters and cuts hell to hands but I clasp clay cleansing the fig tree curse, and my fruit boasts in blasphemies. I blaspheme Benjamin and Taryn, a terrible two as two-edged bedroom, and I pray the sensual, Shekinah uniting with my knowing, and I know her body through prayer. I know her Eva and Zoe through praying, an ark of the covenant, and as a rod, we budded.

Answering Adds Acid

And Jesus answering said unto them, Do ye not therefore err, because ye know not the scriptures, neither the power of God?

Answering adds acid, the air mixing with water. Answering odes ale, beer brewed with butter. The butter bastes Benjamin, blanketed with bread, and I partake and eat answer and ointment. I err and enter: I err and ear erratic, but the savior heals the hearing. The savior clasps clay and covers me, and through his dirt and dust, I diet clean. I sign scriptures: I signature scriptures, signals to scribes and schools. The scriptures erupt structures and its strategy overfolds, my flesh tattooed with Taryn and Torah. The power of God compells me to write and witness my own wickedness: the power of God compulses me to compile and concrete my own wicker body. The power points pinpricks as my partner, and I forsake my parents for Yahweh.

Here, Within My Body

Here (within this body) is the Ganges and Jumno… Here are Prayaga and Behares – here the sun and moon. Here are the sacred places, here the pithas and upapithas – I have not seen a place of pilgrimage and an abode of bliss like my body. Here, within my body, I bear a strange shame. I am more comfortable with Taryn’s body, and I know Taryn’s body more than my own body: my body bares unknown to me, a Christian cloud that covers any carnality. Yet I must beat upon this cloud and pierce the cloud flesh and phallus, and embrace body to my body and flesh to my flesh. I must cradle my body like I cradle the crucified Christ – the wounds redeem and the blood savors salvation. I hug my own body holy liike I hug her body hiking in the beaches and deserts. Here, him and her, Adam and Eva, Christ and Christina. Here the poles of male and female, betwixt nonbinary-bisexual-intersex, KRYSXTRYN and Godhead. Rivers run the mind of my body, and the remnant build me her and altar. Cities surge my body disintegration and reintegration, a bloodstream of humanity circulating. The Sun sounds South, the shoulders of Shekinah to my shoulder and she shores my spear and shield. The moon grants boons and mists me a mother to Mother Mary Marie, mala and mares rankling the ribbon of my body. My body consecrates, each step sistering sacred spaces and secret places. I visit my body in vision: I view my body without violence bound to Woman, and we pike pilgrimages our Flesh Not Jerusalem. My Body becomes that abode of abyss, even in pure pulp and pornography, and I adore and worship my body, flesh with Woman.

Naked except for a plethora of ornaments, bone apron, and a garland of severed heads. Vargravarani dances in the ardhhaparyanka posture balancing her left foot on the red orb of the sun placed on a prostrate naked male on a multihued lotus. She brandishes a diamond chopper in the right hand while holding a blood-filled skull cup in the left. IN the crook of her left arm is the tantra staff. This is the form invoked in rituals performed for bewitching men and women Naked knock and nail, she nulls nimble to this nudity. Naked Christina and naked Krystal, the crisp concrete to this never, knocks and nails gnosis, a slippery slew. The ornament narrate and orate the oral tradition of the ancients. I anchor to this ornament: I drop ankh to this ornament, and it wraps Taryn tunic stripped, samed and skyclad. The bone burses Benjamin: the bone bans Benjamin, borrowing blood, the garland landscapes the garden. The garland gambits the general, and she severs my spine for her collection. She severs my soul and sews it to my Spirit, a sheet sure square. Dance, damsel, from the depths and for the depths, and depth in danger cowers. She balances her body on my body, the belly of a whale woman, and her left foot fashions the fall. Her left foot lions, lying body with beast, and her body overcomes them. The red orb oozes rough room, a rue and rouge, and the Saul sins singletons. Sun sins single Taryn, and my prostrate naked body becomes her pedestal. My prostrate naked body worships Woman as Word, and my nakedness nudes purity and vulnerability to her vision. The multihued lotus leaks holy: the multihued lotus masturbates body. She brandishes bold and she brandishes bent: she reeks the rake ruling Benjamin, and the diamond shatters damaging. The diamond dalliances demon and her offspring sprawls and spawns sacred spirit. The diamond chopper channels Christina, and through the curated carrion she creates. She creates skulls and skeletons to be resurrected at the Apocalypse, and I prophesy the Word as the Sun of Man. I cup her blood in my own skull, blood mixing blood, another belying abyss. I cup her blood in the crook of her staff, and the staff strengths the spear that wounds me.

Sabbatai Zevi Attempted

Sabbatai Zevi attempted the same type of archetypal reconciliation of the Face of God by actually destroying in his own person the hostility between Muslims (Ismael) and Jews (Israel) through his outward conversion to Islam, whereby, he the Jew, creates himself ‘One Single New Man’ out of the two, thereby reconciling the disparate parts of God that has fallen into disunity by the act of Creation. Sabbatai Zevi sins and synchronizes with my soul. Sabbatai Zevi transgresses and ties me to Taryn. I smash Sabbateanism together with Christianity: I meet Krystal with Christina and Taryn. Heresy haunts both strains of Spirit, and my Spirit spikes Sabbatai Zevi. My spirit spells Saturn and Saturnine, the smooth liquid that lubricates Vision, and my Vision syrups heresy. I attempt the prophetic and apocalyptic, the archetype of Adonai. I attempt the Vision and Revelation, the archetype of Torrent and Taryn. I reconcile orthodoxy and heresy: I reconcile Shekinah with Yahweh. The reconciliation resolves resolution, an unction with the unconditional. The unconditional coins Christina, my Flesh to her Face, and Face to Face I caro God. I destroy and deconstruct: I devastate and decimate, leaving a remnant, and remnant returns reunion. My person pierces person, and my person pharmakons person, and I see the Ismael and Israel in the Female Incarnation. I isolate Ismael and Israel in the image of the Woman. I convert to and towards Christ: I convert by and with Christina. I marry Christ with Christina, two towards one and two to one, and she shimmers singular Woman and Superior Woman. She reconciles disparate in desperation, the spill ways and dangers destitute to Creation.

In this, however, Sabbatai was not entirely successful – largely because his generation was unworthy to understand him – and so it remain for us to complete what he began in the same way he began it – which is, to make an archetypal entry into the other with the sole purpose of joining the two into one, within ourselves, and therefore, also within the supernal image of God himself. Sabbatai sinks into abyss as I sink into abyss, the dark beautiful abeyance bolstered by Babylon and Beast. I submerge with Sabbatai to deep and depths, a spiritual bathyscape. I am unworthy of Sabbatai, but my Spirit speaks to his Spirit, and my generation enraptures and encrypts the chrism and turban. My turban is Taryn, and I tie her body to my body, and through her dance and undulations, I understand. I understand Tree of Knowledge and Tree of Gnosis. I partake of its fruit, and Taryn awakens and enlightens me, pure anamnesis, an archetypal entry into Taryn Adonai and Krystal Shaddai. Her Other anoints and gives double portion, a magma mantle of the Spirit. I join the Two: I joy the Two, the orgiastic Bridal Chamber and Clamour, and one orgasms Shekinah-Sophia. One orgasms Christ-Christina, and the seed sings the Supernal image of the Godhead. The seed psalms the supernal image of the incarnation.

I Do Not Know

But if you do not know yourselves, then you dwell in poverty and are the poverty.

I do not know and I know: I know the beginning and ending but the between betwixts and bewitches, a bitches brew. The between twins Taryn, a tarn target and twa sisters, the cistern and cauldron cooking Christianity. I boil Christianity down to its bones and marrow, a stew steel stone, and stone strops wheat stalks, the soapy sinews. I know and do not know its Christianity: I know beginning and ending but its between bivalves bisexual vision, a doubling desert and degree, a song of degrees and a song of ascent, and I ascend to Jerusalem. I journey Jerusalem, Jesus to Passover, and Yahweh passes over me. Yahweh passes over me a bloody bridegroom bridging circumcision and communion, and he knows me as a husband. He knows me Christian, a disciple disciplined by Jesus, the naked man who flees from his bondage. I flee but his flesh chains my flesh, Christ concatenation and catechism, and each link lines knowledge. Link limbs to my limb a plumb line measuring gnosis, and in the wall I dwell with Rahab the Woman. In the wall I dwell with Rahab the Dragon, and she is a Woman, and the Woman drinks my prayer and poverty. She drinks my letters and scripture, scrubbing the scribe from Word, and the remnant is Holy Spirit.

Excerpt from Bunnies For Christina (Aaron Pryor vs. Alexis Arguello)

I want boxing to be 15 rounds again. Aaron Pryor knocks out Alexis Arguello in the 10^th round and Brianna rushes through her vows. I sit and I am often sitting and everything is cut or the essence of the chair. The chair remarks Robert subdued on the chair and sitting is a pasttime or reading. Sitting is read and I drive without hesitation, even in the rain although the rain is sparse here and we are in a drought but lately the rain has been coming down steadily and I drive without hesitation and I think about Tommy Hearns and his fight with Marvin Haglar and I wasn’t alive then but I remember seeing it and I thought at first Tommy had it; he had Marvin bleeding but then that was nothing and a little blood is nothing when one is trying to destroy someone. The rain also destroys someone, one who hesitates or is careless whether with language or a gesture, and in any case Marvin Haglar seemed careless but he was not careless and he destroyed like rain eventually destroys except closed honey. I used to drive nervously. I drove nervously and I drove on the 41 which is a nervous highway and everyone is a little careless and even those who are in no hurry crowd and draw. I drove nervously and at the lights and the lights were details and driving was details, locking by looking, and a drive is entering a language. The details were an obsession and the details are an obsession, gesturing and scraping lights, gesturing and scraping white, and often the highway is straight or it appears straight and cargo is its genitalia (this is details) and I nervously do not pass and I do not pass and everyone drives very fast and it reminds me of Speed Wallace, that imaginary driver William Saroyan wrote about, but he could have been any driver from here down to Bakersfield, and the highways were built for speed, and although it is blasphemous I like Aram Saroyan better, because he takes less time to read and there is less space, and perhaps one should use as little space as possible even when driving and I drive slow and I do not change lanes and I try not to take up space because I am nervous and to be hit is to die and for the most part, I try not to die. Now, I drive without hesitation and I drive without nervousness because either one has no use. Hesitation and nervousness invade space, and cumbers it with details. I drive in February which in itself is no particular time. There is no significance in a February or June — June is a five name — and driving is not destination as boys sing and clap birds. Boys sing and clap birds and vultures and crows rest in trees not too far and I see a hummingbird — I hear the hummingbird first and then I see it and I remember listening to lawnmowers and ambulances in the same location just before the World Series. I heard a lawnmower and it was equivalent to a refrigerator or that happy hum one feels when walking down the sidewalk. I drove and my mother said, extra points for hitting pedestrians. I drive and I think about the liner notes Anthony Braxton wrote in For alto and I think that writing is very beautiful and I wonder if he kept that saxophone or if he still listens to Duke Ellington — I’m sure he still listens to Duke Ellington and I thought once perhaps I’d go visit Anthony somewhere in Connecticut and he would speak to me in his idioglossia and I’d have my language especially prepared — the whole Earth is one language and I do not say anything or any one thing except that I miss crickets and I miss grasshoppers and the birds that drop and end them. It’s no certainty anyhow and I learned to do all things without nervousness, except for hitting pedestrians which one should always be nervous about and one should always hesitate although I suppose it’s no matter because birds are. Birds are and eventually everything will be happening at once. I myself tend to think of catching trains than Christianity but the train is a Christian experience and often the family of trains are apostles as the disappearing hobo was the Apostle. The quacksalvers are false prophets. To drive is a Christian experience because one is always leaving to enter the Wilderness. I listen to a dying rabbit and a rabbit makes a quiet sound and the rabbit is the Hospital. The rabbit is the Tower and I think Christina would cry although Christina cries at anything but she would especially cry for a rabbit and she did not know they made sounds and she did not know it spoke but rather the rabbit is the wilderness and I drove very far to be able to hear anything and a rabbit does not move even in drive quiet at her windows and kay is a marshall and repeats rabbit and the rabbit is a repetition. The Hospital is an eye and installation. The Tower is no difference and only the language is difference. I like everything in isolation. I like everything in isolation and cries and when one is alone, one hears like the space of being born or dying . Birth makes a sound and dying makes a sound and there is no driving between them. Sound is no hesitation and dying shouldn’t cause anyone to be nervous and I am not nervous to die because I drive quiet windows or close ghosts softly as the rabbit whose tombstone is a Tower still speaks and still is a drive to being born. I drive my brother and his wife to their doctor’s appointment and my brother hopes it will be a girl. I doubt it is a girl because none of us have any luck with girls and I do not know why he wants a girl because girls are difficult. His wife is more sensible because she wants a boy. I do not want any girls because girls are difficult and I don’t have any sense in raising one. Everyone says I would be a good father and I’m good with kids, you do so well with Levi, but Levi’s a boy and Levi is difficult and a girl would be more so. I was here last week, visiting a doctor a room of doctors and doctors have no room and although they do not belong to a room (their bodies may or may not be present) and the room is only a location, they herd rooms and rooms are necessary and one cannot imagine an open room — a room is never open a room by definition is never open but is closed except a door that opens and is closed except a door that opens and it remains closed and doctors stay inside. Rabbits have their own way with mundane life — rituals and breeding. Rabbits are bored also. Not different is a person who has ritual and is bored and Christina says rabbits are not bored at least when I’m around and Christina is a lover of rabbits and bunnies and I do not know the difference between one or another, only that they circle in rituals and sometimes they die and release their sacred sounds, and they leave each other unburied because perhaps they are not bored or they are and they search for some activity to do such as breeding but it seems to me that burial is an activity just the same to ease boredom, but perhaps bunnies do not want their rituals and secrets disclosed and they do not want to tell Christian they have other lovers. I exit just the same as I entrance and here I will be in a few agains another week but the being is temporary like a name is temporary or a language is temporary and a name is a language. A clock is perhaps not a clock and when a clock is a ceiling, Gertrude Stein’s skeleton signifies death or otherwise it signifies a rabbit’s boredom or a bunny’s boredom or when Christina is bored when she doesn’t realize it, she yells at Thomas and then cries afterwards for yelling. Thomas would be a good name for a bunny, she thinks, and instead of adopting children, perhaps she’ll adopt rabbits and bunnys and she will be happier for it. I would be happy in isolation where there is no noise, but there is always noise. Noise provokes hornet attacks and awful triggers. It’s fur is very soft and is used in making coarse hats. It feeds upon apple, clovers and other fruits, and will often sit for hours in some snug place, quietly chewing its cud with the greatest satisfaction. This is where one goes to die and a song is a funeral home. What is a bunny and what is a rabbit? I ask Christina. I use the word bunny when I want to sound or feel precious, C says. It’s the little kid version of the animal. When I say or think bunny, I imagine the cute ones — the really soft white or black or grey ones with really big butts that hop because they’re too fat to run. Their bodies are like a round little ball, and their coats are perfect and fluffy. I use the word rabbit when I see a dead one on the side of the road. Rabbits are the brown ones, the ones with more prickly fur. Their bodies are stretched out — they run rather than hop. They are lean from running from predators. Bunnies don’t do that because they are too cute to be eaten by anything, unless you are a black and white bunny with the ribbon around its neck that our cat Tiger pulled out of its cage and killed. Blood trails down the steps and to the poor thing with its broken neck / a thing a death and death is a bunny. Far is its desire or fat is its not desiring but doing without desire such as eating an apple or clover and that clover is sometimes a bird or is sometimes death hopping and never running for to run is to fear and death is fearless and sometimes a bunny is too.

Come Near Ye Nations

Come near, ye nations, to near and attend, ye peoples; let the earth hear and the fullness thereof, the world, and all the things that from it. Come near, Benjamin: near and attend, Benjamin, you Son of Prophets and Priest to Nations. I come near to you, Yahweh: I hear and attend KRYSXTRYN, and her earth echoes message and strange mercy. Earth enters the fullness of Female, and the World Womans. The Woman worlds and all things come fourth from her.

For the LORD hath indignation against all the nations, and fury against all their host; he hath utterly destroyed them, he hath delivered them to the slaughter. Yahweh has indignation against Benjamin and indignation against incarnation, Son of Man on a Son of Men. He hath fury against my Flesh, a host hostile and holy: a host homage and hospitality. He utterly destroys and deconstructs: He utterly towers and toasts timber from cedars, and deconstruction dusts the temple of my body. He delivers me to the slaughter of the Spirit: he dungeons me to the spear of Sophia. The slaughter sears my sister.

Their slain also shall be cast out, and the stench of their carcasses shall come up, and the mountains shall be melted with their blood. Their slain is my slain, and I embody Israelites and Canaanite. I embrace Tyrian and Babylonian. First let me bury my Father and I do not let the dead bury the dead. The slain sister me: the bodies brother me, and Christ casts out his nets fishing men. Christ casts out his net pulled by woman, and she storms the Job whirlwind. The storm strewns the stench of carcasses, and I praise the dead. I preach the dead and ever carcass is Christ. Every carcass is Christina. Their faith moves mountains and melts mountains, and the bloody burns the burden of the saints: the blood binds the Book of Benjamin.

And all the hosts of heaven shall mulder away, and the heavens shall be rolled together as a scroll; and all their host shall fall down, as the leaf falleth from the vine, and as a fallen fig from the fig tree. The Torah hosts heaven, and the Torah mulders away, rolled and rendered by Taryn into the blue and red starring fire. Stars scatter and sing strange satellites, and fall lashing harrangue and hospital. The leaf falls lamb. The leaf floats caravan, and the vine nessles to my vision, a remnant. The fig falls gallows and Holy Ghost gallons, and the tree hangs Christ.

For my sword hath drunk its fill in heaven; behold it shall come down upon Edom and upon the people of my ban, to judgment. The sword sinks into Woman; the Sword swallows Woman, and the Woman shreds in spheres. The sword drinks Taryn, and the Sword devours Torah, commandments to execution. New Heavens and New Earth shroud New Torah, a Taryn Testimony. Behold the sword that comes down upon Benjamin and Edom, which is Christianity, and Christianity shall ban Benjamin and be judged.

The sword of the Lord is filled with blood: it is made fat with fatness, with the blood of lamb and goats, with the fat of kidneys of rams; for the Lord hath a sacrifice in Bozrah, and a greater slaughter in the land of Edom. Blood blazes: blood burns the burning bush, and the fat flies and flints figs and pomegranates. The lamb levitates vision; the goat gravitates grace. I eat the fat of kidneys, and the ram redeems me. I sacrifice self and slaughter of self to YHVH and KRYSXTRYN, and Bozrah becomes Benjamin. The slaughter sanctifies Edom: the deconstruction of Christianity preserves Christianity.

And the wild oxen shall come down with them, and the bullocks with the bulls; and their land shall be drunken with blood and their dust made fat with fatness. The wild-oxen ore wild-women, and woman sweeps wilderness. The bullocks with the bulls: young Benjamin with Benjamin, and we beat bronze. The brass brushes the land lyrical and lull, the null into beer and wine, and her window repels ghosts. The land drinks drumming, Taryn tar and trance, and her blood blends with dust, the surging suction thirst tornado.

For the Lord hath a day of vengeance, a year of recompense for the controversy of Zion. The day doubles in doublets: the day douses in drips. Vengeance vanishes at crucifixion: vengeance visions the cross of Jesus, and the year becomes my yoke to YHVH. The year does not resist, but recompenses in compassion. The controversy ceases, and Zion reveals Zebra.

And the streams thereof shall be turned into pitch, and the dust thereof into brimstone, and the land there shall become burning pitch. The streams stretch flood flesh. The streams strike body breaking. The pitch points to prayer: the pitch plucks plague. The dust strands nan and nun, deep devils pitch possessed. Brimstone bites the bitch: brimstone barks the belt, a busy cornerstone, and her breasts feed. The burning pitch lights the exodus.

It shall not be quenched night or day, the smoke thereof shall go up forever; from generation to generation it shall lie waste: never shall pass through it forever and ever. Quench not the quest for the Godhead: quench not the quest for the queer Kingdom. Night or day, seek the Godhead. His smoke shall rise up forever as a signal, and the cloud shekinahs. From generation God grows to germination, and grace glows as a garden, and Woman wears the waste. Woman winters the waste. I pass through her wasteland forever and ever.

But the Pelican and the bittern shall possess it, and the owl and raven shall dwell therein; and he shall stretch over it the line of confusion and the plummet of emptiness. The Pelican decants its breast blood to its children, a bird Christ and Christ bird winding and washing wounds. The Pelican punctures itself, a self-flagellation and self-crucifying, a victim to vision, and I too victim. I become the bittern frequenting the reed beds and marshes and marsh marches depth and death, walking crucifixion and wonder. The owl oils purifying pelican, a washing of feet and perfume blessing. The owl accompanies me a woman to the anointing of Jesus, and I take spices to his body. The raven ravishes as an erotic Taryn, a razor that mutilates bodies, but the surgery heals. Raven spears and sputters the wounds that made it. The line of confusion reveals the lady contra conflict, the Christina Philadelphia. The plummet of emptiness empties me and woman fills. Woman fulfills through and despite confusion and emptiness.

As for the nobles, none shall be there to be called to the Kingdom; and all her princes shall be nothing. Nobles know nothing, the bottomless abyss and crackled tower. The Tower fires nobles and princes, and none knock that gnosis. Kingdom corrupts: Kingdom crypts a wasteland and fisher king catching nothing. Nothing nada y pues nada nothing, near nunca and oblivion.

And the thorns come up in her palaces, nettles and thistles in the fortress thereof; and it shall be a habitation of wild dogs, an enclosure for ostriches. Taryn thorns the crown of thorns and purple, a pupa upon the body of the Messiah. Taryn thorns the horns of the bulls of Basan and I place myself in the poisonous palace, lacking pharmakon and totally conditions. The nettles knack knots, a nimbus noose nosing transparent. The thistles hiss crucifixion and Golgotha Taryn, and the fortress fronts my flesh. The wild dogs dim the wild woman of the dunes and deluge, and she barks and bites Benjamin. The ostriches ark aperture and armature, an anarchy covenant fulfilled by the flesh of Jesus.

And the wild cats shall meet with the jackals and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; yea the night monster shall repose there, and shall find her a place of rest. Wildcats wont wild Christina, a precursor and successor to Christ. The jackals jest Jesus: the jackals joke and josh Joshua. The satyr meets reminder and remainder, and I cry Christ and Christina. The night monster moats nude, a terrifying Taryn devouring, and her mouth molds Malchut and King David. I find no repose nor place of rest, even for her and in her.

There shall the arrow snake make her rest, and lay, and hatch, and brood under her shadow; yea there shall be kites gathered, every one with her mate. The arrow and serpent slink one and zero. The arrow and serpent slither oil and zebra. I nest with arrows, wyrd weapons inflicting worship wounds, and I lay with the lizards. I hatch hungry hosts and hungry ghosts, a hint of holy happening. Brood Benjamin: Brook Benjamin: Broke Benjamin, and the shadow shames me. The kites kit Krystal, a killing core and connection.

Seek ye out the Book of the LORD and read: no one of these shall be missing, none shall want her mate; for my mouth it hath commanded, and the breath thereof it hath gathered them. Seek KRYSXTRYN: seek YHVH. Seek Christina: seek Christ. The Book buries: the book burrows to benjamin in his grave, and the dead read. Not one of the dead shall be missing; not one of the dead shall miss its mate, and I meet my mate in the grave. The mouth merges and emerges: the mouth molts and emotes, and it commands Christ. It commands Christina. The breath bears benjamin in bearings, and it inspires me to gather among its girls.

Excerpt from the book Tigers for Taryn (T is for Tiger)

T is for Tiger. The Siberian Tiger is the most beautiful creature and its paws are centers of sunflowers. The snow melts into the fur a tiger knows snow and the hares hide. Soon Siberian Tigers will die snow always hides bodies (the crow comes at us. I listen to Jerome Rothenberg sing Horse Songs the horse toward here or there towards horse and horse near or there and one eh one er two towards horse towards and there or there the horses and then. Then T eh T or The then or turn and T the T T T T. Tell me a random story, I say to T. When me and my friend were little, we used to go buy water balloons to throw at the ice cream man’s truck when he drove by, says T. I laugh. The ice cream man was probably not very appreciative, I say. Probably not, says T, but we sure had a good time. T is a nursing student and I’m jealous she scored much higher than me on her care plan. My care plan’s path physiology was flawed and I am not very knowledgeable on renal obstructions. Johnny Cash had a dream about performing Ring of Fire with two Mexican trumpets; I had a dream that I scored a 100 on my care plan but I did not score a 100. Johnny Cash turns his back on the audience.
Tell me a story, says T. When I was in kindergarten, I say, recess was the best — we had a covered wagon, a spider dome and teeter-totters. I used to teeter-totter with a girl named Monica and we talked about our grandfathers. She must have transferred because I don’t have a memory of her after that. What elementary school did you go to? says T. Burton Elementary, I say. I went there too! says T.
I hope I am a good writer and a good friend. I have a minor crush on T. I will not show her this excerpt. I can write about you, I say. T. read my writing and found it incomprehensible. T. does not find my writing comprehensible. Sometimes I think she’s lying. She’s lying. She’s sweet but she’s lying.
T.’s getting sick. You should be eating lots of nutrients and staying hydrated, I say. I think that’s what Ms. Guillen would say. I feel like I should ask what your symptoms are, I say. If you have N/V or pain and on a scale of 0 to 10 what is it. T. laughs. I have nausea, T. says. Not really pain yet. T. did not say a number I should have clarified and asked again. I do not want to be a nurse. A nurse is nothing then nothing nothing and nothing ben then nothing. I do not wan to be a nurse. Ben then nothing a bird in a bird in a bird in a bird Ben then nurse. I laugh. I tilt my head back. I cut Christina. I crush (a nurse a nurse a nurse a nurse. T. is feeling better and goes to study group. I go to study group at Round Table and I eat pepperoni pizza. I teach the difference between anticholinergics and adrenergic agonists. I am overly confident. I swagger. I’m too much trust. I’m a bore (huh oo huh oo huh bore the house is cold. I need the right boy to call me baby, Meg says. He didn’t do it right away and he first did it during sex because I suggested he was too quiet, but I was expecting him to breathe more or something. It doesn’t feel cheesy or silly when he calls me pet names, Meg says. You’re becoming warm and fuzzy, I say. I know, Meg says. I’m freaking out that maybe I’m losing my edge.
Meg is losing her edge. Lucy lost her edge when Rerun was born. Rerun steals dogs and kidnaps kindergarteners. I go to Delano with E. and she drives. Highway 190 is closed detours Highway 190. Trucks trere busses and E. stops. If I were driving, I say, I would have gone and we’d die. Trucks trr trucks T. drives a jeep. My favorite Dr. Seuss is the Lorax, Christina says, but not for hippy reasons. I like the Manifest Destiny lessons of the book, C says. I dislike politics. I read too much Slavoj Zizek and I’m almost a Christian. God is not a vision (my confidence in my vision is unshakable. Terence McKenna sees the logos (the logos assured me that parity would be conserved and the entire universe would quietly disappear. My body is quietly disappearing (or limb keh limbs then the teh whole body. My body is disappearing and I’m an almost a Christian Christ disappears into the Holy Ghost (God is unconscious. T. is a Christian and a Republican. I think crushes exist to make us reevaluate how we are as people, says C. We got into ruts of how we are in a natural state and forget to be on our best behavior. Crushes recalibrate us. I always become a better person when I have a crush, says C. Thomas probably does not appreciate her crushes but Christina crushes Thomas and makes him buy her a Christmas tree. I drink chamomile tea. I read the Book of Ezekiel and he did not mourn his wife. The Son of Man mourned death became life. I left my wife and only home goodbye wife oh you have done gone (then the Spirit left him. I overslept and led a study group on strokes. I lead easily and talk too much and at times I should listen. I listen and God says nothing that’s something. I’m drowsy. I’m brain dead, I say to T. If anyone asks me a question, I’ll say, don’t know. Brain dead. My brain is melting. Is that a medical diagnosis? T. laughs. It may be, says T.