And the Stars of Heaven Shall Fall

And the stars of heaven shall fall, and the powers that are in heaven shall be shaken

Stars strike stem and stamen      Stars stoke hymn and hymen     Stars shimmer single shaman, the singular mystic mediating between Worlds and Words and the language speaks stars     Star language launches levitation and lewd magick, the material mystic and the maternal geometric meeting God and Asia     Star language lifts the Garden of Eden body and embodied: paradise presumed womb in all its permutations, and the river out of Eden cackles in union the umbilical cord      the umbilical cord divides into four channels, each a chain children to KRYSXTRYN aiming Asia and Asia arms the stars with Adamic language       Asiatic language      seducing language      Her language larks Ark of the Covenant carved with stars      stars stream the stew of music, sample smashed with sample and heaven heralds its hues with heaving musics      hoeing dances     Two long medleys linger over chords and revel in rhythms – the solos are secondary to the sound of the whole, which ranges from the kind of fat funky stew that introduces the recording to the minimalist electronic beats and blasts that end it      Heaven electric Heaven electronic      Heaven running medleys and buried melody bubbling Benjamin bombardment and I linger in the lower heaven      I linger in the louder heaven      heaven heavy metal      heaven hovering metallic      heaven helium or hydrogen blimps borrowing white fire and I solo the singularity

I feel incredible doubts today.  Am I even a prophet of God?  Maybe I should be an atheist or agnostic too.  I don’t see that happening.  What makes you think that?  You can’t give up the divine, the unknown.  We thrive in liminal spaces.  What is your liminal space?  Mine is so liminal it doesn’t even have a name – I don’t really know where I was or where I’m going so it’s hard to say what the in-between us.  Nice.  This is what my Oblate Mentor told me: ‘I have often felt like I had to choose between prophet and poet.  And now I don’t think I have to.  I don’t think you have to choose either.  You are Ben and you are your own unique gift to God to and from the Universe.’  Nice, I like that.  I don’t know why I doubt so much.  Liminal spaces are full of doubt, because they aren’t yet.  We don’t know what it will look like in the end.  All we can do is trust.  Pregnancy is a liminal space of its own and I have experienced numerous doubts, and fears.  This is why I am writing Possums… You are revealing things to me I didn’t know about my own journey.  We see ourselves through others, says Asia.

Heaven hobos hobs train Benjamin, and I travel the spaceways      I space the intergalactic Jupiter and Saturn, and I seer the Sword Melancholy     I soothsay the spike or spur Saturn’s ring recognizing real reach      rock Metatron       rock ear enoch       rock little Yahweh hoisted hosted in whirlwind      From hell, I hunger for heaven’s manna, the mama mercator mirage      Mother moss mask manna mars       Mars miniature volta vision visceral and astral        assorted walk       associative woman       asteroids well        I make my tracks resound       I make my nails resound      Christ our lord
Christ my Lord layering or looping saxophones      laughing or lasering saxophones      I sing the saxophone with Christ     I fit the phonetics with Jesus      Seeing within myself an immaterial vision that came from the mercy of God, I went out of myself into an immortal body, and now I am not even what I was before: I have been born in mind      I have been born in music      Isaac Hayes-like disco wah-wah guitar backings butting with Karlheinz Stockhausen spatial electronic noodles       spacey electric needles      brainy and funky, fiercely demand and immediately danceable, and I dance the damage of Christ      I dance the dirge dune dominion improvising the incarnation and improvising the imitation (a repetition     repetition is a form of change       repetition forces change      repetition sculpts in sound the change     changing Hell and Heaven (Did not God himself tell me that there are many shamans, ways, and routes, and they all lead to Her?  My route: doubt     my route: drunk in doubt and I doubt the drink but the wine worships in the blood of Christ

I fall into the flame     I fall cell and bell, the busy bounce of blues and the blues call all to fall       I fall to the Flesh of Christ       I fall to the bosom of Kingdom        Kingdom fugues beware Benjamin in justice and I joust from the milk of mercury (Christendom has a series of revolutions and in each one of them, Christianity has died.  Christianity has died many times and risen again: for it has a god who knows the way out of the grave     I revolve rood through Christianity        I resolve rough by Christendom, and I fall with Christianity       I die daily the desert Christian and Christian Anchorite and I anchor myself to Asia       I die daily in doubt and my doubt is my Faith      I fall on the flame of faith, a future fire and female fire     Faith kills and kills many times, and time thunders seven tongues

I’m watching a video about hell and how it doesn’t exist.  Is it a good video?  I don’t know, I just started watching it.  It’s from God is Grey.  There is a line from that Death Cab for Cutie Song that really got me: ‘in Catholic school, viscous as Roman rule, I had my knuckles bruised by a lady in black.  And I held my tongue as she told me, son, fear is the heart of love, and I never looked back.’  There’s a good song.  Perfect love drives out fear.  I didn’t see that love in the church.  The church is complicated.  I’m second guessing a lot of things myself.  What sort of things are you second guessing?  My writing, my prophecy, my encounters with the Divine.  What if I get on lithium and my mystical experiences disappear?  Your prophecy comes from the heart, not from a chemical imbalance in your head, says Asia.

The powers pulse flame     the powers ply fire into perfection     the powers mix water and fire      the powers mode multitudes multiverses      Powers birth Well Woman and Watcher Woman and the Watch births Powers into palaces       Powers birth Book Woman and Library Woman and the pages birth Powers and Precipices      Power punctuates Book       Power penetrates Library       Power punctuates pages       Power plasmas Repetition Woman and Repeating Woman, Woman repeating Word      Word waltzes as a warrior armed power and powers      armed Asia and Christina

I mingle the mention of everything      I mingle power and unpower, violence through the taunting Taryn tautological tantrum      tautological tarantula       tautological terraformed       I terraform and mingle the mention of everything      I mingle the core concrete consciousness of Christina      I mingle mangle manage the clearing corpuscle lapsed into lap of Christina consciousness      unconsciousness undulates      unconsciousness creeps and slithers the Black Serpent wrapped around the feet of CG Jung and Sabbatai Zevi      Unconsciousness annihilates and negates a negative harmony harping taps music, and I rewind as woman      I record and splice as KRYSXTRYN noise consciousness      noise religious fulfillment     noise industrial achievement      I bathe in noise      I dip noise nude and naked paper cut outs as a cathedral, and the stations of the cross sustain my body       noise crucifix noise Elijah      noise the disciple beloved     the promise of fusion – maintaining jazz’s serious improvisation force while incorporating the instruments, rhythms, intensity, and fun rock and roll and rhythm and blues – is not here     I fuse and mingle with everything      I fuse raw-rhythm and pantonal totality      the Lord of the Lake and the Lord of the Dry Tree       I mingle Christianity polytheism / polytonality and the gods grab the offering orchestra      the goddess gorges the grand piano penciling prayer, and I pray less and less     I fail my obligations and I mingle obligation with no thing        I fuse oblation with the negative and I obliterate oar arc ark, a covenant with all creatures and a covenant with all Christs

I shake in chair: I shake in sugar      I shake in calendar: I shake in surrender     The shaking shocks Love Shack and Rock Lobster, a laughing turtle alligator snapping      I shake shroud to its foundations, a Temple collapse and relapse, and I reenact the crucifixion     I reenact shaking temptation in the desert     Desert saunter slaughter the sound rustling Holy Spirit     Spirit shakers and Holy Rollers (come together, right now, over me      I shake Asia’s wedding dress, the God-Woman marrying God-Man Adam Kadmon, Christ and Christina      Her wedding willows wowing brilliance and I experience beautiful jealous jewels around her neck, shaking sparkles and sparks of Shekinah      He blends funk with bebop seamlessly and he burns every time he steps out      I burn blaze shedding shakes the letters and words for a wedding, and I celebrate this marriage        I know this union in gnosis, an internal revelation and wisdom, and her wisdom weaves hosanna and hallelujah 

I have a biarre relationship with God these days.  I feel God more in you for example than in any institution.  I feel more of God in my friends than any system.  I think it’s supposed to be that way.  I think we are supposed to see our fellow humans and see God.  Yes, you are right, but it also makes me want to rework my priorities.  How so?  It makes me want to spend as much time as with people than studying the bible for example.  Honestly, spending time with people is probably a better use of time.  I have been thinking how my writing relates to people.  I hope it connects people, interconnects with everyone with the universe, I say.