Heaven and Earth Shall Pass Away

Heaven and Earth shall pass away: but my words shall not pass away     Heaven, house me, for my Spirit hones homeless     I hug the outskirts and girl’s skirts and tennis courts, and the Kremlin crumbling courtyard like Yardbird didn’t make it to the Cold War     I clutch Chrome Dreams drinking Heaven, Heaven in a mouthful, Heaven prepared pink the packed placement pavement populating propagating the speed spurned spelt mourning     My Spirit chills the hours, hatchlings hawked from heaven, and heaven regurgitates my grief gobbled in the grave     Grave gallops to my night gown with tiger’s rings, the raging wreck of the grandfather clock, and my body tocks to Taryn, her team for thunder     God bespoke, you bewitch me, the buoyancy of spells depositing letters     God disembarks, the submarine battle betrothed to my bride Taryn torpedoes     Mischief or magician missiles (I miss Meghan     Meghan heaven erodes the rapture rude to my raw time of grave vision short of grieving and I grieve Meghan     My memory misuses Meghan in parables: a lost coin, a lost sheep, a prodigal daughter, but I dare not write she will return to me (there is no ‘me’ to return to     I always return to John Coltrane     I always return Meditations and Father, Son, and Holy Ghost     Ghosts gore my guts and ghosts ground the gibbous ribbon roping whore and house, a habitat habit hobbling me into the monastery     Ghosts captain the hallow haunt      Benjamin, you stand on holy ground, a graft gap gat groaning towards violence     violent vesuvius     violent vivisection     violent vision     psalms to my prison cell     psalms to my black iron prison, and the prayer pockets the Palm Tree Garden in a pint dimension     The dream dimension     The ghost grotto and ghetto      The Desert dimension drooling daggers in the dunes     dreamtime and dreamspace, and I drink to Meghan who does not miss me     I dream the trance tune timbre to Meghan who murders me in meditations, a succubus to my Spirit Spouse but I love her desert demon     Wilderness Lilith     the screech owl wavering olor colour error assuaging the erotic and roasting the prophet     I prophesy the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost     I prophesy Abraxas and Adonai     Adonai accepts the concept of Christ, itself a Holy Ghost passing through walls to Woman     I prophesy Woman even Meghan

For what goes into your mouth will not defile you; rather it is what comes out of your mouth that will defile you      The mouth mutilates as a monster: the mouth marred makeless as Meghan     The mouth munches and mulches monstrosity, the mombasa Meghan miraculous, and she chews the cloister of my skull as a Christ     She crushes wisdom’s chambers, the atria of the hours of the heart, and my ventricles pump vision     She imbibes my blood as Babylon, a bloody mouth and a bloody bridegroom to my Yahweh, and Yahweh accomplices my assassination     Her mouth murders, the moth millions out the monsoon     Her mouth massacres, the praying mantis consuming her husband     Nevertheless, I miss Meghan      I miss Meghan as I miss the Abyss, and my soul drinks darkness     My soul still searches desert for any oasis, but the anchorites and catholic communities shun me     The Shekinah and El Shaddai leave me in Exodus and Exile, and I wander wonder the wilderness without manna into the Mouth of Azazel     The Desert defiles me      The Desert defiles me and I disintegrate into desert from desert, the dry and desiccated Spirit     My Spirit shrinks between descent and devil, Meghan hellion     Meghan centurion     Meghan legion, for she was many     Meghan merges into monastery, the PKD Faerie Queen, crowns and circlets crewed into crucifixion      Meghan the moment of symmetry in mysticism, and the mystical consumes my Spirit in stigmata     the woman wounds of Christ     the female defilement enfolded in the Flesh of the Cross, but I pick up my Cross and follow     Follow the mouth that testifies prophetic time and enthrones the Apostolic     The mouth Krystal Kairos cupping the Cradle of Civilization, and it marches midnight new moon darkness     The mouth of the Tigris and Euphrates surrounding Meghan Eden, herself a Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil     Meghan Sophia in the mouth of my materiality, and she summons Samael     Nevertheless, in my defilement, I miss Meghan

But that day and of that hour knoweth no man, not the angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father     That day deconstruction, the aurora of Christ     That day devastation vision, Jesus vespertine and serpentine lifted up as one of bronze, and the bronze beats its own surface     I surface south soothsayer, a burden of El Shaddai and I prophesy the day Apocalyptic and the day Messianic, a God monomania and eucharistic flesh fixation     The Xx-rays inch improvisation incarnation, and the manger matches the Christ Mass cadence     a missal and breviary dance, and I swing the psalms     I brew the burning basilisk or leviathan of psalms, and psalms sing a little     Psalms sing Abaddon and Abandon, the open abyss into Hell     Hell is my Home      My home hops hellscape landscape sulfur and brimstone     landscape Sodom and Gomorrah      I enter intercourse with mob and angels     My intercourse entertains angels unaware
For from the stock of a snake an asp shall come out, and its fruit a flying fiery serpent     the day drips the venom of the serpent     the day dines snake and Meghan appears tom e in the image of the She-Snake and Sea-Serpent, and the sea surrounds Tree     Meghan milks the almond armor armour, her medley singing the psalms of gnosis, and each palm leaf bears fruit flesh Benjamin     A fire thread fleeces my flanks, the day snake and night serpent curl coil into the column of fire, and the smoke stirs the Spirit     Spirit smokes Day divides Vision: dusk dawn desert in the Twilight, and Meghan multiplies myth     Meghan masters the drought of myth, nth gnosis, and my salvation swirls around the smoke solidifying into stinging swords: the scorpion tail     The tail touches the tower, day disintegration in totality, and every hour hues the horror of the Whore of Babylon

I Finished Mass

I finished Mass at the monastery and was heading home when I heard a voice say, Stop!  Go to the Prayer Labyrinth.  I said aloud:  Why?  It said:  Stop!  Go!  I stopped and went and walked the labyrinth.  I didn’t know what to pray so I prayed the Rosary.  Then I said, Should I be a monk?  My own voice responded, Come and see.  Taste and see the Lord is good.  I said, What if I fail?  And my own voice said, Christ-In-You and You-In-Christ, there is no you to fail.  I prayed the Rosary some more.  What if I fail?  That is your Ego.  You are concerned with worldly things and appearances.  And I prayed, Drive me into the wilderness, Holy Spirit; Drive me into the Desert.  The Wilderness is the Monastery.

The Monastery becomes a wound: the monastery becomes a womb     The side of Christ births me anew, but the wound whips permanent     The Monastery strikes with the stripes of Jesus, and the cross crashes my forehead     The cross impresses my forehead with the cross, a bloody Ash Wednesday     Ash anoints blood     Ash appoints flood, the deluge gripping my soul in the gore and gush     Yahweh, send me to the monastery     Spirit drive me and merge world and word     Let the Word as the Womb of the Monastery barrage new birth bruising baptisms     In exile and exodus I eat the Eucharist and it eclipses my soul in incarnation and crucifixion     Eucharist exploded into the Rose of Resurrection
The Monastery is Wilderness     I read the Gospel of Thomas:  When you go into any region, and walk in the places, when people receive you, eat what they serve you and heal the sick among them     I go into the region of the Monastery     I walk in its places and I walk in its prayer labyrinth     The stones steeple the strike to my soul and my soul surrenders to both sheep and shepherd     My soul slims in the silence, honey honed out, hewed hue the healing of my soul     Honey herd violets the rose of sharon shewing rosary and mystery, the mists mothering my soul     the real region of the monastery     the rich reason region of Christ through the world and into the Word     I walk in the wedge, Woman at war with the lusts of my soul, a Krystal kenosis     The place pours out the prayers     the place perfects the prayers     the place lifts the body into the layers and lap, and I see Mary cradling me with the Christ Child / the cool chance of Christina     I prophesy the place or the place prophesies me, the piercing of the spear that sparks seether and skin, and my skin keeps kin with the Christ     Jesus in the monasteries     Jesus in the prisons     Jesus with the gays and lesbians     I pick up my cross and follow Jesus in all places, and the cross receives me in all places      Jesus crucifixion receives me, and I too, participate in the crucifixion     I place my places in the place of the Chapel of the Holy Spirit, and the Holy Spirit spits splits the puncture pulsing new perspectives on Paul or discovering the historical Jesus, but the myth mothers and the myth ministers     the narrative nurtures and the narrative nets the nature of the nail, the woman looking through the wounds of Jesus

Regions near the name: monastery nears the name of Yahweh     Regions nickel the name, the monastery anodized in the blood of Jesus     Regions root circles, the piston of poles playing the playas, beach cones and circles     beach conics and coneys in the cliffs, the sisters situated in the vision volcanoes     Receive me monastery regions     Receive me monastery name, and yoke me in Yahweh the unchained camera     Yahweh tracking pan and bisexual and crane     Christ cinematic brick bricks and burn for a burning ( a bliss for burning Benjamin and soul sizzles aflame, a burning heart with the sacred heart     I feel a stranglet conversing onto catholicism     I feel a familiar unfamiliar coalescing onto the Catholic     I Catholicism cranks my cranium     Monastery mashes into my muscles and the mass murmurs its meditations, Kyrie, Gloria, and Allelujah     Mass marks the sign of the cross, Hosanna in the Highest     I move Mass in the Mystery of the Faith (Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again)     Christ has died: the death dance desert and delirium, and the desolation of desolations drives Holy Spirit Holy Ghost Holy Phantom     Christ is risen: rise from the red rock and ruby rock, the granite rob rich in minerals     Christ will come again!  Christ arrives at the approach o the apocalypse, an ancient oracle appearing the Psalms and Divine Office     Monastery merges mud with the psalms, a Cloud of Unknowing and a Cloud of Forgetting and the cloud crucible prays the crayon of the cross     Monastery mutants miraculous minked with the fur of the psalms, a cycle and cyclone of Unknowing and Forgetting but I do not forget his Flesh     I do not forget her Face, the flow from region to region and circle to circle and I eat     I eat Other and the Same     I eat Alter and Ego, the erasure with the Eucharist

The Word Was A Woman

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was a Woman     The Word Woman was weaned as a wolf, and she rends flesh ravenous     She feeds on my flesh fish tendrils and tentacles, and I noose nous gnostic     Wolf Woman washes Word with the prayer of the rod and rood and I immerse mystic in the teeth talon Taryn     I bathe in her bloody canines, a cauldron cooking the Christ
I read Meister Eckhart: ‘And the more barren you are of self and unwitting of all things, the nearer you are to Him.  Of this barrenness it is said in Jeremiah, I will lead my beloved into the wilderness and I will speak to her in her heart.’  The true word of Eternity is spoken only in solitude, where a man is a desert and alien to himself and multiplicity…’  Ah, Yahweh, it is for this reason the desert bombards me?  The desert dusting with mean meteorites and ingots of iron, its irradiation reducing me to an imbecile: no wisdom, no knowledge, no gnosis:  only incarnation and Woman     Only Christ and Christina, brother and mother, and she missals mediatrix of all graces     The wilderness and the Woman and I block barren, but she fissures fecund, fertility and inevitability     The barren desert but Bethlehem     the barren dunes but Benjamin, and I babel the Tarot Tower Taryn, the Christ Calamity     My self eviscerates self     my self suicides self, a bloody lancing     Yet, Yahweh, you bless me with many Benjamins     Many Sons of Fathers and Sons of Right Hand, and your Right Hand hoists me into perpetual noose (I die daily: I live daily)     I will lead my Beloved into the wilderness:  I will make the Woman into a wilderness, the lady into a landscape     The Feminine fields for hours, and in this desolation, I pray the psalms as a Desert Father     I aim psalm language at the firmament, a David Psalm when Absalom to Adonai, and I arc to nihilism of the senses, a detachment to the desert and abandonment to the body, but I newly embrace the body of her my God
I want to become a Camaldolese Benedictine monk.  Welcome me, New Camoldoli Hermitage; welcome me Monastery of the Risen Christ.  I feel foolish in my endeavors; I feel as a joker and jester in my journey.  Benjamin, you sinner!  Your hubris hoists you to Hell!  Yet I will harrow hell with Christ.
Monk monomania     Monk fixation     Monk obsession and this orb orbits my eyelids doom and dark in dusk, but the light tensors monastery     The light tenons St. Benedict and his Rule rests a rock over me dashing those thoughts like the babes against the rocks and I fall on the rock of Christ lest he crushes me (anyways, he crushes me
I don’t know how to prophesy anymore     Benjamin, write your experiences     Benjamin, write your process      Benjamin, write your journey into the desert deserted dome rainfall later rain bless me     Yahweh, bless me as I discern the desert     Yahweh, be my yoke as I plow for my place, the ministry of monasteries     the ritual stations of the Cross and I walk Woman and Wisdom towards that dome     I walk Woman and Wilderness toward that monastery     I read the Imitation of Christ mimicking Carl Jung reading Imitation of Christ, the religious fervor and the devotion that devolves into madness     I’m mad for monks     I’m mad for monasteries
I go to the desert: I go to the monastery     I melt into the Mass, and I have my fill of the Flesh of Jesus Christ / Christ cradle my concupiscence     Sublimate my obsession with oblation     Oar me to obedience     Humble me in the Chapel of the Holy Spirit     I pray Matins and I imagine the monastery around me, my body a brick benjamin buttressing the building     O God strength in Spirit to split my indulges and imitate the incarnation     Not imitate but become Christ-in-Benjamin and Benjamin-in-Christ, a solitary singularity working the carpentry of the monastery
I pray the psalms     I ache towards Nag Hammadi     The scrolls scratch my scapula as a scapular, and I want to eat the letters     Lord God, how can I near gnosis when I cling as a novice?  I humble myself as a heretic     Lay me low as the sweet chariot and it wheels me over Ezekiel stripped strop stirrup, the spikenard of horses     I feel that hull of hell, but you call:  taste and see that the Lord is Good     Taste and see my purgatory, and the purgation guts me grandiose visions or delusions, the division of my sin     sin slinks into the desert delusion, and I dip my dust in drones dragging chains     Benjamin you fool     Benjamin you devil     Benjamin possessed by demons     You lead astray
If I falsely prophesy, then I false prophesy for Yahweh’s sake     If I deceive with visions, then I deceive with visions for Christ’s sake     The Divine makes me dig in this desert     The Holy Spirit drives me into this wilderness     What this wilderness is, I don’t know: but I recognize her as Wisdom     I recognize her as the Mother of the Monastery     I marry as a monk: I marry her as the wife of the wilderness, Lady of the Labyrinth, the weeping woman accompany me at the Stations of the Cross, and I carry my cross following Jesus into the monastery