After The Woman’s Departure

After the woman’s departure, Philip K. Dick began experiencing strange hallucinations.  Although initially attributing them to side effects from medication, he considered this explanation implausible after weeks of continued hallucinations.  ‘I experienced an invasion of my mind by a transcendentally rational mind, as if I had been insane all my life and suddenly I had become sane,’ Dick told Charles Platt.

The Woman departed from me; the Spirit of Elijah leaves me.  I experience the Without Woman Absent Asia homing my head with axe to Abaddon.  I experience the Asia Alienation, and the anomie assails and assaults me dizzy desert, the driving spirit into the speculum that doesn't shine, and Malchut masticates my macerated body.  The Woman departs from me and I disappear into desert as dopesmoker, the saints stripped to skin.  I hallucinate the marriage of heaven and hell.  I hallucinate the highway to whores (a terrifying plunge into the depths of Hell!  BLOOD ORGY OF THE SHE-DEVILS       The Book bleeds rosary beads and babies.  The Book oozes the leftover of organisms, bats splat between pages.  The devils drink bleach and detergent, a cleansing of their kidneys.  I hallucinate Asia appears to me.  I hallucinate Asia appears to me and she opals apple of the eyes, a pearl of great price.  My insanity insults and inspires fire, a burning bush.  The incarnation invades, intense vibration in vision: the incarnation insists insanity, force function in supple structure and I dream Asia.  I dream about Asia and her fiance, and in the dream, I continually try to confess that I have a crush on Asia.  I compose a letter confessing my love.  I do love Asia but I cannot explain that love – no crush, no romance, but I write Asia because I love, as PKD wrote Stephanie out of love.  I write a writer’s love, a prophet’s love, a nurse’s love, love in anarchy and love in community.  The anarchic creases chaos in crickets, the leg crossing leg in strings.  The anarchic cudgels in congregation, raucous wall sound to stunning silence     punching out a heavenly backbeat, the guitars snarling like jungle cats underneath dream drinks and desert: dream drops desert sand insanity, and I dracula the desert dial, the dividends lifetime and lifeline.  Insanity nucleates nail to nail, crucifying the ends of rhino horns and walrus tusks.  Taryn tusks takes ivory blonde, the blowout bitches brew bringing croat collapse.

Jesus said I am not your teacher.  Because you have drunk, you have become intoxicated from the bubbling spring I have tended.

Jesus, teach me the non-teacher and non-teaching      Jesus, say to me the non-saying and non-sense      I tome in the tent, treacherous trap trust timing, and tome temples tunnels Jacob’s Well Hosanna, the mountain tame-wild Taryn     Tome triples and triangles, tipsy wine woman     vine woman     voice woman     preaching scream phoenix     scream dominant sevenths     scratch acid and calypso concrete, the tape spooling space and pencil and I write nothing-to-everything       write vary rhythms        write aliased or scratching samples       write media sound bites baraka and I jaw eccentric music loops assembling Asia
Asia asserts the saying said and the said vanishes in valley lodging Logos        The Said scruffs slurry and sediment, rock-substance sandwiches witchy wailing, and the song says: no thing, the non-logos and null-logos      grafted to urgrund grammar but the semantics myrtle slinging stones at Goliath      Say the sound surface, Asia scoped as a scarecrow and the crop chortles the corner market for queer quartz prism     Prism partners power, Asia purple spliced spice to a blessing and logos lives in light illuminating nothing      illuminating light on light and light between light, the null-logos laser gloating God gods non-being       God gods non-being and non-existence mutated slow, examined from a different angle       different angels Asia difference a differentiated, a definite and definite spiral circumspecting towards the desert     Desert from different gods and difficult angels and I mutate into Magician     I transform into Theurgist and I increase my alchemy in Asia     Boundless power, punctuating Benjamin, dwells in the suns of Woman, and each daughters and sisters Asia Rain Rebekah, bearing Flesh and Blood     It hides hart hep hastened to carriage and courier, and it manifests festering the plague Magician, buboes Benjamin and Krystal lymph, and the former courses causes curses the latter      It burns intelligent fire      It fires burning Alphabet Asia branding all creation with seal and sale      From the ungenerated becoming spawns the generated word, whenceof there are six roots, each inner and outer, beginning and ending, sense and nonsense       The six roots row roar Kindred        The six roots raw rift Kindergarten, marking hatchlings      Mind, Voice, Reason, Reflection, Name, and Thought, commingled with Flesh and Fire      Word and Wisdom       Laughter and Logos       This is that which has stood, stands, and will stand, the seventh root corresponding to the seventh day, a Sabbath and a Saturn       Saturn and Sabbatai Zevi melancholy and manic in a concoction of serpents     This seventh power existed before the world, a spirit of God and Gods that moved upon the face of the waters, and the face refreshes the reflection of the Water Woman     Ocean Woman     Tide Woman     the unceasing Asia KRYSXTRYN     the ending unending Elaine Elohim, and water rains across the risk     It exists potentially in every child of Woman, an unborn one given birth and Asia mothers the Word of World      The small becomes great, the point enlarged into infinity, and these indivisible points exists in body, the Kingdom of Heaven and the gram of the Mustard Seed
The Kingdom of Heaven quakes within you
The Faith of the Mustard seed ruptures into many faiths, and each faith fires, the focused flame forming language      the unfinished flame forging language

For In Those Days

For in those days, after that tribulation, the sun shall be darkened, and moon shall not give her light

Marvelous Marvin Hagler died. I watch The War. Greatest three rounds in boxing. I miss boxing, that beautiful ballet. Boxing never died but boxing died but everything dies only to be reconciled and resurrected. All dies but eventually revives tent revival and great awakening.

Asia Rain is my friend. Right now, she helps me through difficult times. My harrowing of hell. Many levels to Hell and I go deep. She helps me through my hell. I love her very much. I love her as Jesus loves his disciples: there is no greater love than this, that one lay down his life for his friends. Yet she wants me to live! And how difficult it is to live. And I suppose she loves me too with Christ’s love, even though she never says so, because to say that kind of love invites misinterpretation and misunderstanding, but I suspect she would indeed lay down her life for me, and she does lay down her life for me daily. I die daily, and so does she.

It gives me a lot to think about, says Asia. I don’t know how I feel about dying every day but I guess that means you get to be reborn everyday too.

For in those days, many birth and give birth – rebirth. The birth and rebirth of a pregnant Asia (pregnancy cravings so far, says Asia. Fruit Loops, an ungodly amount of mandarin oranges, takis, folk music. For in those days, the fort flints fortitude of pikes pregnant, a wood worship at Woman (I have drawstring pajamas – I don’t even have to tie them anymore, says Asia. I don’t know how I feel about this. My bellybutton is also slowly becoming an outie, says Asia. The day becomes desert (if sampling is the first level of hip hop aesthetics, how the pieces or elements fit together constituted the second level. The levels reveal different lasers of light, each a perspective pausing pregnant, and posing prayer. The desert dust in days signals her pregnancy another layer piercing piece-wise in Christ-Christina conjunction. I edit in Eden eidectic. I edit edict in Elysium, and the days dip drip drug thrush and fluid. After Asia, tribulation: After Adonai, tune taser Taryn and tribulation tries as Elohim from the heart of the Tempest. Tribulation triggers the tumble of timbales and timpani: tribulation threatens the tackle of triads and tinnatibuli. Tribulation at the turntables hip hop emphasizes and calls attention to its layers nature, and I layer my sources and eat them raw as sashimi. I trunk true to the texts and I stitch tank tusk tank the text to the Word. Word overarches and shakes sheep Text Taryn and Asia Alphabet, the lantern lamp Logos lifted as a serpent in wilderness: Wood overspans and suspends the Hanged Man clutching the Fool as Woman, and she shivers the sample, Taryn Torque and Asia Alien. The tribulation petrifies preserves fossilized Word Flesh underneath underground underworld the Walden Wool wearing Word. The tribulation turbulence bounced light to light, an Asia Earthshine showering shade and shore. Now the band settled down into a deep African thing, a deep African-American groove, with a lot of emphasis on drums and rhythm, and I drink drums drowsy, horns surrounding me rhythm rotating and ringing riches. Rhythm reveals Word to Word and Sentence to Sentence, dancing paragraphs and paragraph disco. I revel in the rhythm, rhythmic tribulation and accented wilderness. Tribulation tuttis sun and moon, and sun soils ulcerative unction, the spilling of oil and ointment. Tribulation perpetuo motos sun and moon, and moon as maverick muscles the martyr, blood motioning blood and blood maximizing blood. Sun sinks into my sinews as a scream, the shocked shutter shudder in impalement. Sun scalds my skull, a scraping Krystal kiss, caving in my head as hostess. The sun surrounds surrenders, and reminds me mud and material: Benjamin, more work to do. Benjamin, to do the work and Woman more and more. Work under the sun worship and the work worship sun one, sun one order and disorder, the dip into creative chaos (replicating on-stage, in real-time, cinematic dissolves and jump cuts similar to those previously achieved only at the editing block, and I edit blocks Benjamin and blocks Book, bricks arranged Asia geometric bricks arrayed Asia Tower of Babel Babylon Beginning, and Book brays rays Behemoth Book blasts and the ass saw an angel, and Asia seesaws Sawyer sowers knitting baby blankets, and the Book covers. Book covers warmth Woman the Sloth of the Sunk, and she Embraced barracks bombers buttresses, a suicidal Benjamin churches with Christina. Sun stinks through stained grass, a glowing gas that poisons as prayer, wafting wedges rolling rafters the church belly.

Moon meets mineral: moon mates material, matching matcha, a mourning inflection of the Holy Spirit. I mark the material in paper, pulse track pagination in Book cookin’ steamin’ workin’ library, and the library mingles mission through the moonlight. The library jests gusto Mingus Mingus Mingus, seduced by the Moon’s ensemble. Moon and Music permeate the pages: music and magic initiates intercourse with language. Book plays with the refractive fractals of moonlight, a little night music a tiny edge inching into ego ear orgasm, word binoculars. Instruments bubble up from and subside into the mix; or they fade to a whisper, only to return (Ambient Asia Asia Field Recording Bumblebee I love her madly.

My Mouth Is Utterly Unable To Say What You Are Like

Thomas said to him, Teacher, my mouth is utterly unable to say what you are like.

Asia the Teacher teachers about Cicadas: The east coast is about to experience a shit ton of cicadas (there is a species that emerges every 17 years and they are emerging this year). I for one, am very excited. They sleep and eat in a hole in the dirt. Then they emerge from their holes, scream endlessly, mate and die.

Teacher torments: Christ chastises. And those whom God loves? He afflicts with suffering. But those whom he hates? The Prophet says, Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated. And the descendants of Jacob? Every hand is turned against them. And those of Esau? They wear fine robes and swords on their belts, and every man calls them Lord. Go then and become a gentile. Save the Jews from the curse of God’s love, and receive the blessings of his hatred
I apostate and heretic from Christianity, the play of pagan philosophy and pseudo-messiahs. I chain myself to the charlatan Jacob Frank, and I too seek in a twisted mixed multitude of Sabbateanism and Gnosticism. Yahweh almost betrays Benjamin, a basket for his burning. Yahweh yokes heavy the prophets, and I prophesy a perverse paganism and perennialism. Yahweh thwarts me and attacks in the dark, driving far from me friend and acquaintance. He punishes prophets and chews wearilessly his visionaries. I lie under the palm tree: Yah, take me, for I am no better than my fathers. I lie under the eaten remains of the vine and curse God angrily. Job’s wife says to me, curse God and die. I am utterly unable to speak Christ anymore, much less say the messianic name. The name nets me in knots and wrenches my ligaments out of joint time out of mind. I am utterly unable to say what you are like except your love lashes in laughter.

I fear Asia will abandon me. I grow too attached. I love my friend very much. I fear Asia will abandon me like Doc or Taylor. I prophesy lonely ghost a Holy Ghost singular and singularity. I prophesy ghost alone scripture alone by grave alone and Asia doesn’t abandon but adheres by addition.

Forgive me for my insecurities in our friendship. I was thinking of a former friend I had, Taylor. We used to write lovely letters and emails to each other, but when she got married, we stopped talking. I understand the insecurities, and I can’t promise I will always communicate as frequently, but I’m not going anywhere. Since our friendship is still young I want to make sure I put time into it to build a good foundation, so we don’t have to communicate constantly. That’s a solid plan. I’m hoping we can write postcards and letters even when we don’t chat often. I hope so too.

My mouth musiks liberal use of dissonance and I look at individual compositions as a slice of – or window on – something larger. The laughter lagers or lingers attacking my liver, and my organs orgon ozone the pile-up into perfect prayer. I pray into music, the mouth tote thought and Taryn, and I sing disintegration (the sound were all collaged together to make a sonic wall, and the collage collapses or perhaps coalesces into Christ and Christina. I mouth the crusade into Christ and Crucifix, a crashed clash embedding. I sing disintegration desert (hip hop does not simply draw inspiration from a range of samples, but it layers these fragments into an artistic object. I smash my samples into textual music and musical text, a texture that touches on Thomas’ unutterable universe. I strut the samples into something tactile, a text to be tasted that tones the Bridal Chamber charmer, and the Cobra culls coils out of Benjamin’s basket. The mouth arks as Noah and Moses, deluge and genocide engorged on gods (the open-ended music gives an impression it could go on forever and Book continues no beginning no end but the collision of loops and samples and Benjamin conversations. Al Foster set up shit for everybody else to play off of and then he could keep the groove going forever and I groove in the grove of God forever. I set up the shit of Holy Spirit and Spirit spits mad bars speaking in tongues, my gift of gut glossolalia. I pour forever into the pulp and pornography (strange passions rules their twisted lives! THE WARDED ONES THE WORDED ONES The Woman and Women in one and I cannot say what’s she’s like except the name KRYSXTRYN coos the key to the human body, microcosm and macrocosm coming Christ stars all Bethlehem Benjamin.

I Have Foretold You All Things

But take ye heed: behold, I have foretold you all things

Trinity takes: Trinity tokes giant joints and smokes the tornado and hurricane. Trinity tokes absurd and alast aghast at last, leering at the laughter of my body, and vision vamps the long chord as a vampire, sucking in seclusion the sluice of music. Music materializes music material, the crystal chloe kaleidoscope. Layer after layer of sound are placed on top of each other until the music becomes nearly tactile. Tactile takes, a tactile Trinity stinging at the touch, and I touch at the mystical pornographic I touch at the hallucinatory pulp Neon names to pimp a butterfly (they’ve ended their degrees in pleasure! VOLUPTUOUS GRADUATES beautiful girls with all the credentials My vision vines voluptuous and God graduates with girl! girls! Girls! A gallbladder of the Goddess. Take heed and beware, the Woman matrices holy. The Woman heeds the hanging gardens holy, Benjamin Babylon and mixed matron pagan. Beware and behold the hell harpies and furies, and Asia assaults and assails, succeeding all sacrifices, and she sacrificed my soul. She sings stairwell starwell struck way to her woman, and my soul visits in vision. My soul ascends Astral Asia Atman Asia Asia among the alien and familiar Behold Benjamin, the Hanging Man: Odin in suspension and you suspend your suicide for the sake of Woman. Behold Benjamin, the Fool, and you foolishly acknowledge and pursue Asia, and she befriends you. She befriends above and beneath, the below beckoning beginning book beginning, multiples of the macrocosm and microcosm. Behold the beheading, the decapitation deconstruction that foretells Taryn and KRYSXTRYN. I sleep through my murder for she mothers me.

Philip K. Dick recounted that as the sun glinted off the good pendant, the reflection caused the generation of a pink beam of light that mesmerized him. He came to believe the beam imparted wisdom and clairvoyance, and also believed it to be intelligent. On one occasion, Dick was startled by a repeated occurrence of the pink beam. It imparted the information to him that his infant son was ill. The Dicks rushed the child to the hospital, where his suspicions were confirmed by professional diagnosis. Sun surges in singlets, its own God of photons, and I wave Woman. I wave Woman in particular, in particulates and particles, and the sun proves to solvent All, its own Asia. Asia ants anarchic alchemy, and shines through the alembic of my body. Asia arcs electric alchemy, and shimmers hyperion and orion, stars underneath my eyelids. Sun glints off gold, the Goose God diving a mediator between Women and Worlds and Women and Words. Sun glints off gold, a light to the underworld, and underneath, a snake swallow and a snake sparrow. Strawberry field flesh hallucinations and seamstresses. Miles Davis molecular and material, multiple worlds and parallel universes. I just like objects. I enjoy the materiality of music (too weirdly jazzy for rock heads, too backbeat driven for jazzers, but the backbeat blasts Benjamin. The backbeat baptizes Benjamin in the breath of blue bath and blue heron scream, scorched earth. Fluid structures, multiformed density, and mercury juxtaposition (the world’s first fully improvisation acid-funk band. Acid and Ayahuasca Asia. Asia Entheogen and ether aether alphabet of scripture. Asia Alphabet Taryn Torah. Modern Funk / endlessly mesmerizing grooves, the grove garden goddess Asia Rain. Self-discovery flexible forms, the game of God and God plays plastic the plastic nature of sound. Electronically processed sound, the sigil saying Asia.

You Are Like A Wise Philosopher

Matthew said to him, You are like a wise philosopher

Benjamin said soothsayer and seer, but sight sonar strikes him her to pan in pyramidal seclusion. Benjamin said shaman and medicine woman, but vision vomits virulent violence, a voyager and vostok turing tens of fields, the filter feminine. Blind Benjamin Bastard Benjamin Bartleby Benjamin. Benjamin hoisted (hosted hostile hospital) by hatchet fish. I want the courage to kill myself. Kill the pains and bondage on my body. Yahweh, let me field to death. I worship no god but Yahweh: I worship all the gods in Yahweh. Woman wiven and wifen, yet heal harlot heveher hellstrom, the strim starkweather, and I stew scotch bonnet skeletons. I stir streaking the sound language and sound of language, and the semantics improvise. I stay to experiment. I strewn to stem in experience and the experience explicates then expunges. The experience irradiates El Elyon and El Roi the ray that rotates riches rivers rennet
The Molotov Cocktail of nuclear scratching, gnarly minimalist electronics and revolution rhyme The Christ cut Christina prisms the Christ cubed hyper healing and holy water razing rosary Abrupt sequencing and violent sonic compression of rapid-fire samples, slamming-jail-door percussion tornado turntable work and outraged oratory cathedral scissors citizen, the dice dew desert dissection, and the red dragon desiccates in the dueling dragon, Black Iron Prison prostitutes Black Iron Prison let me die in this dungeon let me decay commingling with the carcasses carcosa, and I crumble to dust Let me sample the serpent and with Eve Eva Evolution touch and taste the fruit in gnosis, knowing Death That gods must die first to experience resurrection My Christianity kills me, slain in spirit speared spelt by Spirit spun in Wreckmeister Harmonies nuclear fission as Nag Hammadi Library and I scroll scrimshaw scripture in cave desert I screen scratching scrolls in wasted cavern and I hide hevel wide, the wild grapes of Woman

Why LORD, do you reject me
And hide your face from me?
From my youth I have suffers and been close to death
I have borne your terrors and am in despair
Your wrath has swept over me; your terrors have destroyed me
All day long they summons me like a flood; they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken from me friend and neighbor – darkness is my closest friend

Dark ark carat Krystal corrupts raven and crow
Dark arp skips pimps poplars prophets the parking lot suicide
Dark arts angles and angels descending deep drink drawbridge
suicide cellar door serpents slander silo
Dark eats hearts chewy chambers and red blood cell residue

I dream dark time travel, the clone and multiplicity of bodies flashing fishing in and out of existence, and the place shimmers shingles this is where time becomes space

On February 20th, 1974, while recovering from the effects of sodium pentothal administered for the extraction of an impacted wisdom tooth, Dick received a home delivery of Darvon from a young woman. When he opened the door, he was struck by the beauty of the dark-haired girl and was especially drawn to her golden necklace. He asked her about its curious fish-shaped design. ‘This is a sign used by the early Christians.’ She said and then left.
I worship the dark-haired woman. I worship the blonde beach. I experience the experience of PKD. I william willow wink the dark-haired woman. I wanton wolf web the blonde beach. I experience the experience of PKD. I wash work war the dark-haired woman. I whir ship whistle the blonde beach. I experience the experience of PKD.

I listen to Public Enemy – It Takes A Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back. I want to pile up samples of text until they become recognizable, my own adaptation of William S. Burroughs cut-up technique. I want to cut and scratch and deconstruct the text, a new arrangement rearrangement, the sounds of the Funky Drummer (Don’t believe the hype. I listen to Public Enemy – Fear of a Black Planet (we wanted to create a new sound out of the assemblage of sounds… I anchor Asia in my area of assemblage and Rauschenberg composition, and she patterns person personage archetype Asia in the paint thrown (not chaos but controlled chance not controlled chance but chaos). Our music is all about samples in the right area, layers that pile on each other. We put loops on top of loops on top of oops, and then in the mix we cut things away. Asia Rain cuts through the chaos: Asia Rain cuts through the thick cloud churning the curl and coil of connection (cut away, cut away, send transmission from the one armed scissor. I loop God to God and God to Woman: I loop Woman to Woman and Woman to God, and I pick up the burden of bodies: I pile the desert of dead, Book Babylon Labyrinth. They’re figuring out how to jam with the samples and to create these layers of sound. I jam with the texts. I a jam with wood was Word, the barge of Book and books. I jam up you fearful Jesuit and Christ conversations.

Dark Drums Desert

Dark drums desert druids preparing for my death
Dark driscolls desert demons to torment me torrential terrifying
Dark drips the busking buzzards ready to scavenge my skin from skeleton
Dark dreams dilaudid an overdose opening in ovals

Atomic power was seen to be the epitome of progress and modernity.  Radioactivity was potentially an inexhaustible source of energy and offered a vision of an atomic future where it would be possible to transform a desert, thaw the frozen poles, and make the whole earth into a smiling Garden of Eden.  There will be nuclear powered earth-to-moon shuttles, nuclear-powered artificial hearts, plutonium heated pools for scuba divers and much more.

Modernity merges mirror Moses      Modernity multiplies minerals and watchings, the Taryn trappings of Tehom and Tohu Wa-Bohu, and Benjamin, you waste wilderness.  You welter waste woman, Atomic Asia and Radioactive Rain, and she powers the planet to utopia.  No progress but planet: no cave but Creation and Asia caves in calve and inclusive Creation an Earth Goddess, a deity echoing at the edges, and I kurger into the Christina capricorn       I coop capture my new career as a radioactive time egg and atomic Chrono Trigger, and its energy initiates, integrates and substantiates, a tasting of the Eucharist      Wafer Woman     Wine Woman      Asia at the altar      Asia the Wyrd Wedding and Word Wedding

Dark drizzles the Zebra Zap, pausing pestilence at its pregnancy
Dark drones the rigor of roses, Taryn thorns at the throat as a columbian necktie

I feel alone the loneliness anoints me as its messiah
I feel alone the loneliness pours oil upon my head, a key King to Kingdom, and I prophesy alone in the cauldron       I adopt ouroborus      I sage circle and cycle      the cycle signets singlets the sevenger to depressive desert and desolation

Is it true that the Messiah will come in a generation that is either wholly good or wholly evil?  Yes.  Then what direction do we take?  The evil inclination is the Mother of the King; but the Holiness will be the first to greet Him when he arises from the dust.  
Evil inflicts the integrate antinomianism, and the Masiach reveals herself Woman     Woman from the desert      Woman from the dust      Associate Asia commutes accumulate breaking the bonds of religion, and I uncuff my chains to Christianity     This generation grinds God to gold dust to drink, and Woman wine wizards or with body     my body

For False Christs and False Prophets Shall Rise

For false Christs and false prophets shall rise, and shall shew signs and wonders, to seduce, if it were possible, even the elect

The Book barrierless barrier beyond true and false The Book boundless boundaries betwixting left and right I burn to dust the distinguishable and the expanse becomes desert. I disintegrate and integrate the ill-defined, incarnation and incarnation. Prayer pursues paradox. Prayer perchances in polydoxy, a homogeneous multiplicity. Prayer phosphers phosphene, pink nanomachines, and the goo grips as Gods. The goo gyrates as goddesses, global geodome and devilscapes. I pray outside order and ordination, orb to the Christian Chaos and Asia Apocalypse, and her archetype language the light and ladder-lattice-weave-woman into net nebulous and net amorphous. Benjamin Prophet probes through the dual and dichotomy: Benjamin prophet phalanxes the way to Woman and she shines spartan and phalanxes, a smoke spellbound into my Creator chassis and Taryn Torso. In Creation’s Chaos, the Christ and AntiChrist boat as brothers: they sail as sisters, and I leaven them as my lovers. In Creation’s Chaos, the false and true prophet message moon and mirror, the same miraculous, and both seer sent by Spirit for the Krystal Kerygma. I gospel Truth to the False and False to the Truth, a balance of the scales and aether earth equilibrium, and equality beyond duality and anarchy anointing sacred. Asia again anarchy: Asia abreast anarchy, an animating animism that revives all gods. I gospel to the gods: I gospel to the Spirits in prison, a non-truth and non-false but pure prophecy and the seer sires surrender unknown gnosis unknown language but the language mangles and magnifies monstrosities. Language guts and sales after gods, and language loosens language, a hierophant heteroglossia. Language laps slits language, the lake lara clotting clicks to Benjamin, and my language fails fully My language collides crashes crumples into sample density sound as sound and sound as prophecy, and even the name Asia prophesies apocalypse and revelation
A Bomb Squad juice Post-Coleman / Coltrane Ear-wrench
Furious momentum harmolodic funk abrading and exploding and I desire a desert desolation determination that includes everything and I machine music I mackerel music the Fish Flesh carpet for Christ and each language sign signs and wonders electric electronic, and the accessible archs experimental and experimental ergots ego the accessible. Christ and AntiChrist drones feedback, blasting occasional shards of rock guitar, and James Brown horn samples distorted into discordant shrieks Prophet Priest density scratch deconstruction and sheer velocity (velocity in Vision Vision in velocity False prophet Stravinsky movements and the Book merges prophetic music Isaiah ignition Fire is the first principle of all things

You Are Like A Just Messenger

Simon Peter said to him, You are like a just messenger

I resist the return to religion: Asia abhors dogma. Yet my religion – this Spirit – assaults even the icon of Asia, Asia image and imagination. Yet write religion without boundary: write religion without limitation. Not syncreticism or synthesis but the boxing beyond. Beyond Yahweh, to Woman Beyond Yahweh to Asia Rain. Chop and Screw Cut and sample collide and crash text to text, an intertextual intimacy scripture seduces scripture scripture seduces the salacious slice of the sentence, and the sentence seizes me. Sentence strips me bare before Asia, a vulnerable vision a vulnerable velocity valley pink-violet. This can be explained that the plants only emerged as far as the surface of the ground, and there remained until Adam prayed for rain. The rain then fell and all the plants and trees began to grow from the ground. I pray for Asia Rain and her plants bloom bountiful Benjamin all around her. The ground germinates all gods and goddesses, Table Taryn Torah, and my soul gives birth God Benjamin. My soul slips solace the givenness that gives birth God Benjamin, and all I dip in the letters becomes Divine. All I baptize in Asia Alphabet becomes an Aleph-Null, beginning infinity and starting infinite, stratified in the stretch of Human Skin and Human Library Book buried bodies Book blisters bodies Book buoys bodies The Christ and Christina Body the Christina and Christ Body and I build the brick body and body barrels gnosis Body betrays gnosis near gnosis and gnosis narrowed gnosis, a Taryn Thomas Simon Peter Taryn Thomas androgynous and she speaks Asia Rain as a spigot and reservoir the spokes Asia axle wheel on wheel four evangelists and four creatures, and Simon Peter merges with Simon Magus Simon Peter Magus levitates lights and lasers and speaks transfiguration tabernacles, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah Mediator and Mediatrix between Law and Prophets, an Ancient of Ancients antinomian (A Torah commandment can be fulfilled by breaking it – to eat an almond, one must first crack its shell. I crack the shell of Shekinah I open openings shell singles shell the sighs Asia Rain and we eat anarchy. We eat a free dance separate together the sounds and movements united by their mere presence Texts united by their mere juxtaposition, speaking as a just messenger

Opossums for Asia Rain

Authors note: I have posted excerpts from this before, but I decided since I started working on it again to post a huge swath of it to catch up readers. Enjoy!

Asia Rain is my friend. Charlotte says, You have been my friend: that in itself is a tremendous thing. Asia is my friend, and that is a tremendous thing. I age: I smolder older and making friends magnifies in difficulty. I'm thankful I made friends with Asia, and she friends true (it is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer). Asia also writes and is a good writer like Charlotte and she befriends all creatures, even a spider like Charlotte.

I try to write about Asia in my normal style: Asia Rain rasps ruthlessly, revoking and renouncing rapture, yet her relationship raptures itself and ruptures the Book... It doesn't feel right. Absurdist is my favorite writing style, says Asia. She likes the writing style on Tigers for Taryn. I can't revisit or retread Tigers for Taryn, but I can reinvent. Opossums for Asia Rain. I think that's what this book is called. Opossums because oats and oaks. Opossums because ads and arks. Opossums roll rollicking roadkill and play dead. Opossums eat and bless the dead.

I don't know why Asia Rain except she's my friend and she writes and I want her to write this book with me. I want her to write because she hopes hops hoops healing through writing and her writing nurses my writing. I need a nurse sometimes, a wounded healer, and a woman always heals. I do not think she is part of KRYSXTRYN or even Elaine Elohim: she's spiritually distinct, and even though all my relationships reek of spirituality, she reads a rare remnant and refrain, something refreshing. Nevertheless, I also know God through her, just as I know God through the whole of humanity, and someday the entirety of Earth then creation. God gematria and Adonai arithmetic art abundance, the air of Asia.

I love Asia very much but I do not say it because she would not understand that love. Or perhaps she understands it and I myself do not understand, except I feel affectionate agape for her as David for Jonathan, or Ruth for Naomi, and then I realize her God will always be my God. She often knows more than me and I suspect she does not dare say so, and she walks and waves with wyvern witches and garden goddesses.

Would you be jealous if I co-wrote the book with someone else? I ask Christina. Nope! I don't think I've felt that emotion in years. I'd be glad if you had consistent support, she says.

Perhaps Asia is a consistent support, and this songs strange but I speak to her more than Christina or Taryn. I miss Christina and Taryn but life becomes busy, and we worship our work and work our worship (I worship Woman and the Book, which writes the Work). Asia's life too will become busy: she will marry soon and give birth to a boy (I predict it will be a boy) and I worry selfishly that I will talk to her less and our friendship will wane. I think about her moon magic and moonwater and the moon wanes, but everything cycles and circuits through the cloud of Creation, even friendships. I pray I do not lose her as I lost Doc (Benjamin, you cannot lose her, as if she was something you possessed: rather she circulates and streams through you as Holy Spirit, and she enchants and encourages with her earth elements). Benjamin, I prophesy your friendship is sure, even as it migrates through the moon phases and projections, and your friendship processes and professes prophecy. My honesty about my insecurities embarrass me. I want to hide this writing from Asia because I fear she'll judge me poorly. I will not hide but share with her openly, as an opossum with an outstanding opportunity.

Who am I? Isn't that a tricky question? I could say that I am a teacher, but doesn't that also make me a student? I could say that I am a woman, a sister, a daughter or a mother to be. I could say "wow, isn't it a beautiful day today?" Or "cooking is fun" but that doesn't help you much. Sometimes I feel like I wake up everyday a slightly different person. So for now I will say "it's nice to meet you" and "I hope that we can be friends"

Asia arts Ark of the Covenant and Ark of Noah, and she floods the filaments and film of my raven room radio. I listen to Miles Davis' Agharta, and Asia drives the guitars and synthesizers. I listen ham ram radio and Asia Agharta ararats hollow earth and I dive earth descent. This writing warps through woman, veil vision vacation. This writing bewares watchman through woman, vice vision vertical. Hello, Asia Rain, and it rains for forty days on the boat Benjamin. The rain wind washes and woes, whipping storms on my token to Tarshish and Tartarus

The Book should be a playground for language

The Book should be the joyous display and expression of the Word

Benjamin, don't play the butter notes

Strive for the surprise.

Asia Rain rasps ruthlessly for raspberries, the vegan vision. Avoid vivisection. Advance in volcanic volume. She bakes tasty cookies. She cooks good food constantly. What smells so good? Rice and beans. Asia eats rice and beans for lunch. What smells so good? say her coworkers. Rice and beans.

I'm sleep deprived and I'm over here losing my god damn mind over crustaceans, says Asia. She befriends all creatures. She cities civilization for all creation.

I write Asia because I love Asia. I write whom I love. I write God because I love God: I write Asia because I love Asia

Rain runs resin resistance
Rain rams ruse rush
Rain rings red rowing
Rain rises resurrection

I like the Rain, but we drought here. We need more rain. The storms are not enough. The storks are not enough. The seagulls search for storks revving their engines, ingenuity and genius. My genius is not enough but I continue to write. I doubt often. I doubt this Book. I doubt Asia as my friend. I feel the deluge of insecurities infest my skull as if I were a teenager again, and I think of Christina and Taryn repetition. My life's entirety repeats cycles and circles, never spirals. The irrationality irradiates my innards. I read the Exegesis of Philip K. Dick and I feel as crazy as him. I never thought PKD as crazy but today I think he's crazy and me with him. Still I love PKD because he experienced the Godhead and anyone who experienced the Godhead binds to insanity.

I listen to the band American Football. Their second LP. Underrated LP. Just as their first LP soundtracked my teenage youth, this soundtracks my middle aged blues. The middle aged blues where I don't feel middle aged but still in my 20s and hell if I know how to adult or grow up (Tom Waits' I Don't Want To Grow Up. The Ramones Cover I Don't Want to Grow Up). My instincts are the enemy. I warned you. I enjoy the interplay of bass and guitars. Bass proves to be a good addition and adds depth although it leaves less space for the guitars. I remember as a teenager shopping at Music Trend. I bought the Deftones White Pony there – both the limited edition with the extra song The Boy's Republic and the regular version. I bought Isis' Celestial and I listened to post-metal. I listened to Neurosis' Times of Grace and Through Silver in Blood. Music measured my days. When Music Trend went out of business I bought the Complete Anton Webern. I still remember what Thomas Pynchon wrote about Webern in Gravity's Rainbow. The barbarians coming to take the last European. Music Trend had the complete Shostakovich String Quartets and I still regret not buying it. Shostakovich, a third pressing of Mahler, said Boulez. Boulez was such an asshole. I love the grandiosity and ego of Pierre Boulez, but he could act like a real asshole. I love Shostakovich.

I wanted to write symphonies but I write books instead.

What was it that Mahler said? A symphony is like a world – it must embrace everything. The Book is a world – it embraces everything. Even Asia's Book must embrace all things.

I always return to John Coltrane like I always return to the Desert like I always return to God. I return to John Coltrane simply as I return to God the Desert simply. Desert simplicity as God simplicity: simplicity in the void and abyss of love. I listen to Offering: Live at Temple University by John Coltrane, and I enjoy the intensity and flurries of this version of Naima. Naima nerves the network and jet net woman and I worship at this Offering. I work at this office and offspring. I walk the water well and welcome the desert oasis in opening love, an agape for Adonai and Asia Rain. Benjamin Joseph, do you truly love me more than these? Lord, above all things, you know I love you. Tend my sheep. I tend to and towards the typing and tyrfing of Taryn. I tend too, and tow the tinkering topaz tropez, sparkling Asia's engagement ring, and I wish I could attend her wedding. I wish I could attend her wedding and fistfight her brother-in-law and the ruckus wrecks wrestling and vestiges (I joke, Asia; I would be a very polite guest and eat all your vegan food until it gave me a great vision of the future figure and flesh of the second coming of Jesus). I listen to Leo and Crescent, and hear Pharoah Sanders scream sonic boom saxophone, genuine guile and gail, and his sounds invade Gaul. His saxophone sears sapsuckers dressed in seersucker, and boils bones in witch's cauldron.

I have been rethinking my spirituality and flirtation with witchcraft, says Asia. Nothing against witchcraft but I just don't want labels. I don't want boundaries or comfort zones. I want to escape dogmas. Float around in the abyss and collect trinkets that ring with truth, she says.

I wonder if I'm attempting something similar, pushing Christianity to its limits, I say. My Rector told me once, God cannot be contained in human symbols or symbology. I have been thinking about that.

I believe you can find the spiritual in almost everything, says Asia. I believe reality is just as holy as the spiritual realm. It rings with creation. Truth can be both water and stone, ever changing or unmoving, says Asia.

I think about my own writing, which magicks and prophesies, and I too want to write without boundaries or comfort zones. I want our writing to contain everything, and everything spirits and sparks Sophia and Shekinah. All reflects and directs Godhead, even the pulp and pornographic. The trash layer, as PKD calls it. I want to betray my own style and cliches and break through into the new. Make everything new! said the Imagists. Make everything renew and revive.

One Down, One Up: Live at the Half Note. One and one, one down, one up, life and live at the half note. One and one, one down, one up, life and living at the half note. One down, one down, one up, one up, life at the half note. One down, improvising down and the impossible down to hell. One down improvising down and the impossible repeating the down and depths of hell. One down improvising down and the impossible repetition, repeating the down and depths of hades. One down, one down, one and one, to Hades and Hell, and I Harrow and Hallow the hollows Christ there. One down, one up, live at the half note, and I listen in half and whole notes, I listen in numbers and names, countries and continents Asia Rain. One down and down, angels descending and ascending the ladder and lattice lurking just intonation, and one down microtonal micromeasure microdosing Ayahuasca Asia. One up and one up, extra lives on Super Mario Brothers, and Levi makes new levels on Mario Maker 2 matching maximum play and I play language always. I play names always periodic, Asia continental shift and ring of fire, and the typhoons tickle with rain. One up and down the scales and scene of the Book arching symbols and metaphors in arpeggios, and Asia anoints appoints appears the paradoxical prayer. I arpeggio and chord tone the giant wind chimes and gold grasshoppers. I arp harp the mechanical up and down, and the giant wind chimes chim chim chimmeree a chimera.

I listen to My Favorite Things: Live at Newport, by John Coltrane. Roy Haynes 1963 and Elvin Jones 1965. I enjoy the skittering popcorn and snap of Roy Haynes. I enjoy the propulsive polyrhythmic swing of Elvin Jones. My Favorite Things churns although my favorite My Favorite Things is still Live in Japan. Asia and I converse as jazz improvisation and our dialogue trades fours.

No new Asia material today so you get a break from reading. Haha! I feel like I said some quality stuff. You did! I wrote notes about Nancy the Prophetess. I also might write some stuff about you arguing with a 15 year old. Excuse me, it was a debate, says Asia.

(Asia debates a 15 year old over whether the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justified. First of all, she says, the war was almost over.... Pearl Harbor was a navy base and these were civilian targets... the devastation couldn't be compared...)

She annihilates the 15-year old in a verbal fire bombing, an ironic War Woman Wordsmith.

Asia Rain vegan vision
Asia Rain pacifist power
Asia Rain animal anarchist
Asia Rain cooking chaosmos

I listen to the Dave Holland Quintet. Chris Potter pike pierces the pure scurry sounding and I adore the dots diving saxophone tenor and soprano. Music magicians and makes miraculous. Music murals maps and materials. Music intertwines Woman and Word.

I melt Book into Book
I merge Book into Book
Book converges Book a divergence to diverse infinity (I want to include everything. Asia encompasses all and inhabits everywhen and allwhere. I encounter Asia in every human face I see, and in the stalks and stones. The rocks cry out, Asia Hallelujah! Hosanna to Her and I boast bonny born Alain again. Book prophesies Asia in the pocket! Book foretells and foreshadows Asia spirulina and agile algae! Book interprets Asia inlet and islet, water washing the shore erosion, and beneath, Benjamin Depths and Asia Shell Smith

Asia Artemis Archetype
Asia Athena Architecture
Asia Amaranth Artist

Transition / Transformation: the tenor tune trap My Favorite Things, and I listen to Coltrane's My Favorite Things. I listen and talk to Asia Rain about her favorite things like animated movies (Wolfwalkers and Kubo and the Two Strings. Did I say 2D, I meant stop motion, says Asia (and I stop in motion moving the mission in transformation. Don't ask me about my favorites, she says. I think about the favorites like my favorite dinosaur when I was a kid (The Utah Raptor), and they show favor and flavor.

I had dough and filling left so I decided to make more perogis, says Asia. Except I lost motivation part way through and decided to make one more. So here it is, the mega perogie. New villain in Godzilla, I say, MEGA PEROGIE. It will destroy you, says Asia.

Asia often destroys me. Asia often devastates and decimates my faith, and every tenth tinctures the tunnel tin and tactile tarot draw. Asia often destroys me. Asia often deconstructs and reconstructs my faith, and every tenth tangos a remnant tamed and tank. Violence to faith, not violence from faith, and I pacify and weaken all power structures through Woman. Faith from power requires deep deconstruction and down upping and downing dowsing drowsy for Dream.

Damn, you make me sound brutal, says Asia. Aww I'm sorry. I will soften you, I say. Say something soft! Bumblebees, says Asia.

What are your thoughts on merging the Opossums for Asia with concepts from my last book? Having Opossums for Asia include everything and having it be a continuation of themes instead of separate? I’m not sure, says Asia. I don’t think I want a super heavy emphasis on religion but honestly we are probably going to end up talking about it. Yeah. I actually like our religions talks, and you inspire me a bit spiritually, as odd as that sounds. Really? Yeah, that’s why I enjoy having you attend my church. You cause me to think differently just being there I think. Like your striving for non-dogmatic boundaryless spirituality makes me want to push the limits of my own framework. Damn, I never thought about it like that, says Asia.

Eight Lines: Eight Canons: Eight air aether Asia Rain

Eight Lines: Eight Canons: Eight East Ash Wednesday Asia Rain

I receive my Ash (remember you are dust and to dust you will return)

I receive my Ash (remember your baptism)

I dust to the Desert Desolation where I pray. I ash to the Apostles, each an author of an animal.

I dust to the Desert Deconstruction where I meditate. I darken the foreheads of the disciples, each a determiner of daemons.

I remember my remnant in the raw of Christianity.

I remember my remainder in the rough of Christ’s Cross.

Asia Rain rows the road of roses and I continue to cly shy behind the hedge of hidden and holy symbols. Vision vines a vulnerable void, and I value the voice of the Void. I value the airs assonance and alliteration of Asia Rain, but I must not mask manifold but marry merry to myself nude. Expose experience. Expose the exotic experiment. Benjamin strip the language down naked.

I feel faint. I feel fays, the phantom faerie dust of Ash Wednesday. I feel the stretch of suicide over my soul. Death desires me and I desire death. I Listen to Vic Chesnutt’s Flirted With You All My Life. Death I have definitely touched and kissed you once or twice. Sometimes I feel ready. I feel steady in suicide. Yet Sheol spits me out: the grave rejects me in grace. Suicide slays strange in the Spirit and sloughs me off a stranger. Seraphic Light, countermelody of my life.

Asia Rain, thank you for befriending me. Asia Rain, thank you for including me as a friend. Your friendship bodes stranger than Death, a banner and barrier over Benjamin.

Death fantasy and soliloquy
Death phantasmagoria and mirror reflection
Death blue smoke and sleuthing steam

I watch Godzilla Vs. Hedorah

The Smog Monster Hedorah arrives in a shooting star! The giant monsters battle, crushing streets and forests underfoot!

All life doomed as a hideous monster is spawned in the filth of pollution.

Pollution’s hideous spawned dooms the earth to choking horror and pits… Godzilla Vs. The Smog Monster. With deadly breath and venomous it slithers across the land. A poisoned slime in its wake… a trembling world in its path!

To highly the peace applications of nuclear explosive devices and thereby create a climate of world opinion that is more favorable to weapons developments and tests… Widening the Panama Canal, constructing a new sea-level waterway through Nicaragua nicknamed the Pan-Atomic Canal, cutting through mountainous areas for highways and connecting island river systems

Atomic Asia toning the Clash’s Spanish Bombs
Godzilla, save the earth!
Atomic Asia sirens psychedelic hallucinating fish masks and poisonous pollution, a rock rose ribbon of radiation
Sludge slimes Godzilla, but Godzilla gives chase with Atomic breath flight

Nuclear power plants will be considered the cathedrals of the 20th century

Christina Cathedrals her nuclear nest, and she gives names to every atom
Atom Asia Atom Adam Kadmon Atom Benjamin
The Cathedral conquers as a crypt
The Cathedral cores crimson crystal
The Cathedral crowns in caves and caverns, and I enter the cave as a desert Cave cracks crunches the King, and I incur the eclipse My black paintings my purple prints

LORD, why casteth off my soul?
Why widest thou thy face from me?
I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up:
While I suffer thy terrors I am distracted.
Thy fierce wrath goeth over me:
Thy terrors cut me off.
They came round about me daily like water:
They compassed me about together.
Love and friend hast thou put far from me,
And my acquaintances into darkness

I want to die. I would like to die. Let me die. I think of the song ‘Parking Lot’ by the band Mineral: I wouldn’t mind if you took me in my sleep tonight, I wouldn’t even put up a fight. I wouldn’t care if you took it all away today, I’m sure I wouldn’t even miss the pain.

I want to die. I would like to die. Let me die. I’m sure I wouldn’t even miss the pain.

The Glory Embraces All Worlds, Good and Evil

As the Glory embraces all worlds, good and evil, so were they enclosed in Moses.  When God called to Moses the first time, he did not answer here I am, because he was lost in astonishment: How then can unification take place?  For where God revealed himself in the thorn bush – that is, the evil of the lowest rung – all the fountains of fire opened themselves up from the highest unto the depths, but the thorn bush did not burn up, the evil was not consumed.  How could that happen?  Because God called a second time:  Moses! – then the lowest rung bound itself to the highest to Moses himself, and he said, Here I am
The Glory embraces all worlds, good and evil, so were they enclosed in Benjamin      The Glory glistens glitters and winter, and I gather towards the Glory     I gather toward the growing God, who engenders and generates soul within my soul     I graft God into my grapes, the wine of my gut… God – the Growing God that increases my soul’s girth – I grow tired of my own writing     I grow tired of its predictability and repetition     I know to continue because prophecy processes – the act of process and Creation too processes       To work through the stagnation and stasis unfortunately imports prophecy with some of its power – it is to embrace all worlds, good and evil, inventive and boring     To work the boredom exhausts, but I embrace my world and I embrace the hidden glory within the repetition       I hug the secret sparks within the standstill     To embrace all worlds means to embrace the entirety of writing, even that which reeks of repetition     Writing forms the multiplicity of worlds: Book worlds times worlds, a multiverse and macrocosm reflecting the human body as Jesus Christ and Adam Kadmon     Woman gives Glory     Woman gowns Glory     Woman granites Glory     The Glory finds as a Female (love women were his prey high heels click along dark Los Angeles streets unleashed a strange frenzy in him      Embrace the good and evil, the written good and bad, and her glory clinks along dew desolation the City of Angels lovely as I am together we cry     When God culled me from the fast time, I did not answer here I am, for I was lost in astonishment:  How could God call me, one who embraces the evil as well as the good?  How could God call me, one who writes both the boredom and the blessings through new baptism?  Yet God calls and God calls incessantly     God calls Samael, Samuel: God calls Benjamin, Benjamin and yet the calling continually astonished me      A calling both to and beyond Christina mythology     A calling both to and beyond the foot of the cross of Christ, and I make Christ my Christina     I make Christina my Christ     I round sections of the Exegesis of Philip K. Dick and I fear I’m crazy as PKD      Do I think he was crazy?  Today, Yes, but a lucid insanity (sometimes the only appropriate response to reality is to go insane      I have gone insane with Christ and God and still God calls me      What an astonishment      All I know: writing the Book      All the gnosis: the Book Written      I write compulsively: I cannot exorcise the Book from me      I write incessantly: I cannot excise the Book from me     Book burdens and astonished     Book burnishes and atones     Book brandishes anarchy and antinomianism and I embrace my sin and sing, a celebratory salvation and Book accepts all things     Book embraces all astonishment and atonement     How then can the unification take place: the unification takes place in the Book     The unification takes place both despite and because of the Book, and the Book unites All, good and evil, in the unction and chrism of Christ and Christina      in the unction and chrism of the Bridal Chamber, and the Book marries and gives away in marriage even the Angels (David’s been dying to marry into the family.  After the ceremony he may be dying to get out!  THE BRIDE    A marriage made in heaven… and a honeymoon in hell     I marry into the family of Christ and Christina, and their Book scourges and crucifies     Their Book descends to Hell and the marriage of Heaven and Hell (the carnal carnival terror 2      Tales of ecstasy to tantalize the flesh      LOVE BRIDES OF THE BLOOD MUMMY     SECRET LOVE LIFE OF THE INVISIBLE MAN      They’ll drive you mad with fearful desire      The Book drives me and with fearful desire, desire for Christ and the Godhead      Desire for unification and the universal     desire for the intersection between macrocosm and microcosm      the carnal carnival of body to body      disciple initiating disciple in ecstatic ecstasy tantalizing Taryn and her Flesh connects all Flesh     collision of bodies      collision of Books      collision of texts
For when God revealed Himself in the thorn bush      For when God revealed in itself the revelation of good and evil in the thorn bush      For when the God reversed and reconciled Herself in the heavenly of thorn bush bushing Taryn in many thawn and thorns      I liberate the good from the evil      I embrace what is good and evil, AntiChrist and Christ      Christ and Adversary     Good in evil and evil in good and all reconcile through the burning and future Flame      The Future Flame freezes the deliverance and distinguishment from one and another, the dust of the nondual (even more, it will be weird, mad, horrible, anything you like, but at least it will be original      original origination     original annihilation     original sublimation      thrust into the thorn bush Benjamin and all the fires consumed me in Christ     All the fires chase me in chrism, and the burning blesses      The burning bursts from the lowest rung into the highests, fountains of fire      franklin of fire     festoon of fire      fire freetime      (to free the soloist completely from the restriction of time in a continual hailstorm of percussion     continuous ringing stickwork on the edge of the cymbals, an irregular staccato barrage on snare      spasmodic bass drum punctuation       constant but not metronomic     use of the sock cymbal      freetime fire      floating fire       and God calls me a second time     second freetime and second freedom into the fire     fire bound to fire freely within Benjamin      motion made visible      memories arrested in space      Place perfect in memory, the murmuring rosettes rushed rich and root      Here I am in the Root     Here I am in the Key      Here I am Kindred