Every Other is Wholly Other / The Other is God or no matter whom, more precisely, no matter what singularity, as soon as any other is totally other The Other orgy totally Other and Other orgiastic totally Other amens strange Benedictus and Magnificat Other ossa ossia orchids orgasm, not an overcoming but an overwhelming, and Wholly Other ocelots the Cat God or God animal every animal The Animal anticipates Apocalypse The Animal participates in Parousia The Alchemical Animal aurora consurgens Christ in octaves and I imagine a profound connection between Christ’s body, the harmonic series, and the golden ratio I imagine a deep connection between God and Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems, and perhaps the Wholly Other resides in Paraconsistent Mathematics Reconstruction of the gnostic cosmology of the Orphites (from Greek, Orphis, Serpent) Reconstruction deconstructs the lighthosue leviathan and the Orphite obscures Other, an occult saturated orange / the orange cave imagines three figures or three females at the base of the crucifixion The Orphite obols Serpent the Or or Ob of the Witch of Endor, and the coins cross the dead, river dream river I reconstruct the Serpent Seal of Solomon and Solomon commands the demons I reconstruct the Serpent slender feminine and serpent fleets female Serpent deconstructs and deterritorializes the Extended Field and Field ferrets cosmos chaos Christina / era aurora I want the Aurora reconnaissance aircraft to exist: if it doesn't exist, someone should built it I need more UFO sightings From his First Quartet (1950-1951) onwards he was to work with materials in constant evolution: materials in which stability in one or more domains is necessary only to support and show the urgent movement in others I move material and I move in material mother matter and matter music I machine material in motion, a kind of mirror medicine and the medicine shaman siseras sister I live in lacunae I find my flesh in dead sea scroll fragments I lavandula lacuna natural lines of drift and the line los lambs desire paths Woman wayfinds through the lapse apse of my lacuna and she breaches benjamin She breaches benjamin paths pairs pigeons and I bird break in continuity I bird bare beak through Christianity and my Christianity copulates with the Animal, the serpent sensual and sexual I revisit Elliott Carter’s String Quartet No. 1 From his First Quartet (1950-1951) onwards he was to work with materials in constant evolution: materials in which stability in one or more domains is necessary only to support and show the urgent movement in others I revisit Elliott Carter’s String Quartet No. 1 and although I don’t follow it intellectually, I understand it intuitively, strange or strong streams intersecting illimitable insects String Quartet No. 1 carousels as colony, simultaneously solo cadenzas, and I too write the thundering tumult of texts I too write the text transit text television transmission and the signal signs many gospels First flies fantasia, fontana mix medicine I revisit Elliott Carter’s String Quartet No. 1 and I experience its revision or erector set rotor as dream daniel dardenelles I work material as water, fluid flesh in forces animating area / area archeaopteryx tunnels the comic or queer quartet I work material water woman aqua resin and she disintegrates Elliott Carter like the desert horizons I saw daily Materials disintegrates or dunes diagonal the Woman dense in water and strings cone compact in eleven dimensions I love material as text and I love text as material and I work material in motion I work material moth motion winged woman and motion candelas cardinal The continual cains crisp transitions and transitions tenor transformation / I write text-in-transformation and text-for-transformation The constant commas continuum, the continuous but nowhere-differentiable function enfleshing text The first time I encountered a continuing development or continuing variation was in Bela Bartok’s String Quartet No. 2 and ever since, I have modeled the Book on the same premise Of course, all composers now use it to obsession: an exact repetition is verboten I repeat not often enough and I know Asia has criticized this aspect of the Book Perhaps I will heed her call I revisit Elliott Carter’s String Quartet No. 1 and I tempo my text with metric modulation The meter is motion and moment, half a distance and half a distance, the sampler of the Sonoran Desert I time text constant evolution a god experiment and the experience elides text-in-erosion or text eroding text / the liminal landslide the liminal language My language mists magic lantern strange reflections and language overlaps language lores languages My language grips gears ghosts god ghost gods rough rhythm tracks Nevertheless, I write slower than I want: I want my blood and sleep to gush pages red light green light orange light and the orange occams orphites secret orders ouroboros (salt shakes and scissors Language sometimes limps a little but I continue to work and I continue the work, sometimes a random walk but the woman never randoms Can I ask what you’re working on? Building houses. Building houses? Yeah. Like you’re writing is building houses? No. It’s the title that currently works for a catch-all for any writing, prose, or poems about deconversion / religious experience / feelings about religion. I got the name from a dream I had back when I was praying for the baptism of the Holy Spirit. You had a dream? What was it about? It could have been a vision! I think I’ve told you this story before. I had been praying for a spiritual gift and the baptism of the Holy spirit. In the dream I was in a group of people working on a house and talking to each other how to build a house. My uncle (a spiritual mentor for me at the time) was in the dream – it zoomed on his face and he was glowing, ethereal, and he looked like a God. And he said “that is your spiritual gift” and it occurred to me that they weren’t actually talking about houses, they were talking about people. Oh wow! No, you haven’t told me that dream. It’s like Morel Orel, right? I’M THE CHURCH. I guess so. Building houses is good. I think so too, says Asia. I fall down the stairs and it sounds like Art Blakey Fuck I’m stuck but I work Woman Woman frees flesh free jazz the comet is coming Fuck I’m stuck but I work who and what woman, a wire wound wound wicket and Alice worships Alice Push process or raw recursion photo developer Push process poem plate poem and I write riptide or ripieno the raw horn of my altered state of consciousness Altered allures Other, ouroboros erotic asphyxiation Altered alberts all other other language and my brain shrinks to the size of an almond / I sister stegosaurus brain Consciousness cameras cave bear Christ consuming or cannibalizing brains rich in psychoactive substances and I hallucinate hallelujahs
Tag: gnostic
Horror Hungers History Histalarion
Content warning: Body horror The horror hungers history histalarion Horror hits happenings hysteria I hermit crab with horror, sea shell slaughter Horror hexes cross crucifixion triangle Horror hubs hemoglobin goblin her: hobgoblin or green goblin gordian knot The knot is my chest chainsaw dismemberment / cavity black cat gullet I ruminate on horror cinema and horror fiction and Book howls the haze horror Book rehashes hashish horror hush hypnosis and I knock door bone folder bone awl Bible, and my Bible gets horror upper and lower Egypt / mummy’s curse mosquito malaria Horror alpha and omega monothematic delusion digests prophecy and the Spirit of Elijah leaves me I understand Philip K. Dick, writes Terrence McKenna. I met my natal day by sifting down and sincerely preparing myself for an Apocatastasis, the final Apocalyptic ingression of novelty, the implosion really of the entire multidimensional continuum of time and space Apocatastasis anthropology / the Spirit of Elijah Australopithecus Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, has left me Apocatastasis audiospectrograph noises accumulation aminoglobulin goblins and the harsh wall noise Benjamin banshee psychosis Apocatastasis stamens a spiritual antithesis or time out of joint decay, and listen to Visions of Johanna / the ghost of electricity howls through the bones of her face That face focuses fallopian tier Taryn telescope pregnant with planetary dust and nebula newborn Apocatastasis stalls midair dive daredevil diamond anistrophies Diamond dollface gentleman like blondes B2 Spirit stealth bombers and woman like a wobbly goblin gestates God God leaves Yahweh hauntology and I hospice my Christianity I taxidermy my Christianity, corpse crater canyon light and sound school coughing coffin rock catacombs / petra Philip K. Dick woodcuts category morphism woman I dissect my Christianity pertussis, a tattletale kaleidoscope lattice we need to talk about Kevin Christianity cuts Guinea Pig: Devil’s Experiment and Christianity composts guts and snuff films / the woman’s right hand and forearm are pinched with pliers I experiment beheading, Christianity Axeman of New Orleans or vintage violence of the vine Christianity cleavers cordovan craniums flower of flesh and blood / sometimes impressive like the hands being cut off and the severed head, sometimes obviously fake like the severed leg or the icepick stabbed in unconvincing skin Taryn icepick peels pus skin particulate a crude oil flaying McDonald’s french fries / cow blood cow fat cow eyeballs apocatastasis anisoaccommodation Taryn icepick pokes eye orbitals solar system trans-plutonian objects orbits Solar system slakes slate slime, zombie satellites a snuff film found footage Solar system ropes rock alien magma anchimonomineralic and Morro Bay bosoms basilisk / volcano swarms swaps ouroboros I beetle the bay piledriver piracy and they insert a needle into her temple and poke it through her eye Eye eyelet eaglet vulture vomit Eye arroyo alveobronchiolitis and inflammation ivans lungfish pus sputum solid silk Silk shibari Krystal kinbaku battle barricades and the devil’s experiment erdog erodes eros the cross or crucifixion
I Read About Gia Carangi
Bare Humanity Naked Adam Nude Benjamin defrocked from the flesh of Christ My God after Yah, why have you forsaken me Why do you abandon and associate so far away Yahweh the Liar Leviathan Elohim the Breakbeat Behemoth basking the Galapagos God and Island Incarnation She slashes at the stimulis, the heartbeat horror of the stethoscope A Taryn skeeball pattern pointillistic pistol (the St. Valentines Day Massacre masquerade God the Gibson Girl God the pinhole photographer God the Death Door or Door Death Fragments: flesh fragments, fragment fractals, repetition and difference I read about Gia Carangi: Gia Marie Carangi was an American supermodel considered by many to be the first woman to be titled supermodel She was featured on the cover of fashion magazines, including multiple editions of Vogue and Cosmopolitan, and she appeared in advertising campaigns for such fashion houses as Armani, Christian Dior, Versace, and Yves Saint Laurent After she became addicted to heroin, Carangi’s modeling career declined rapidly At the age of 26 she died of AIDS-related complications, believed to have contracted the disease from a contaminated needle I gaze at a photograph of Gia Carangi taken in 1982 by Francesco Scavullo Scavullo said she changed, her eyes were empty I feel a deep electric sadness looking at this photograph Perhaps it reminds me of death, that God crucified her with a thousand needles It’s some God that allowed or invented the AIDS epidemic – to punish us homosexuals according to televangelists – and Gia became the first famous woman to pass away from AIDS God picked a hell of a woman Fashion is not art Fashion is not even culture Fashion is advertising, and advertising is money And for every dollar you earn, someone has to pay (Gia said that) What’s my job – what’s my kerygma – it’s to copy Copy scripture and everything I copy becomes scripture I argue with Yahweh I accuse as Ha-Satan, an advocate for the scrum and oppressed of humanity I am for the PKD Trash Layer, and humanity rows divinity The Christ kenosis pours divinity over humankind, itself the Kingdom of Heaven and the Kingdom of the Skies Kenosis keens Baptism, an immersion into the Divine Incarnation Francesco Scalluvo on Gia Carangi: Gia is my darling – old, young, decadent, innocent, volatile, vulnerable, and more tough-spirited than she looks. She is all nuance and suggestion, like a series of images by Bertolucci… I never think of her as a model, though she’s one of the best. It’s that she doesn’t behave like a model; she doesn’t give you the Hot Look, the Cool Look, the Cute Look; she strikes sparks, not poses. Out of doors, especially, I have never known anyone so excitingly free and spontaneous, constantly changing, moving (which drove me crazy until I got smart and learned to focus the camera faster) – she’s like photographing a stream of consciousness. I, too, have my darlings I, too, have my women Christina, my darling, dare the desert, the efflorescent desert Again desert like again God, that Yahweh washing sand to shore combining the skeleton of Desert and Deluge Again or after this place, the flood and the vineyard, the first wine Noah imbibed becomes the grail for the kenotic God, desert intermingled with their bare body Again or after Yahweh, the Deluge and Desert diverge into crucifixion My God My God the Desert Eloi, Eloi, the Flood at my flanks Desert buries my body no tomb no tendrils even the Serpent abandons me God is the Gateway / Desert is the Doorway Elohim echoes Emptiness / Deluge devils death The highest truth is one and the same with the absurd, wrote CG Jung in his Red Book, Liber Novis What is more absurd than Christ and Yahweh and Christ-in-Yahweh What is more absurd than Yahweh in exile, wandering the desert forty days and forty years and I follow Yahweh or Christ into desert They left wife and child, wealth, glory, and science – and turned toward the desert – for God’s sake. So be it. So writes CG Jung in volume 3 of the Black Books So the desert truly decides my destiny The desert dips into my baptism, a wedding vow vision my wife and child I marry the mar of the desert I marry the mer saturating desert Desert darkling exudes Dmitri Shostakovitch's Fifteenth String Quartet, elegy and desert dirge Desert buries and marries me to the Torah Scroll El Shaddai slaughters as sluggish schizophrenia, a strange feigning of the Servant’s Song El Shaddai seduces as a slender anorexia, a sinister psychosis of the Serpent’s Slendro The Feast of the Passover peeks and peaks at the apotheosis of Christ The Feast festers the poison flesh of Jesus in henosis and Christ contaminates me in syzygy The Feast of Passover purges and pierces the pagan, and Yahweh syncreates or sisters my Canaanite worship: the Baal Benjamin and Taryn Tannin, my Yam Yahweh Yam Suph Sea Song Miriam Chaos The Miriam The Marie Christina Sistine Chaos, undifferentiated desert Marie Marsh Oasis awning oxygen Air feathers serpenting with a double tail, and Christina chaos swipes a third of the stars Fire seers circular ruins, the conic of Aaron’s staff transforming tannia, tryptamine Taryn terrorizing neurons to the King Wen Sequence Am I the sea or the sea dragon you have set a hedge over me The Feast atones the terror of the stone The Feast wreaths the rock that breathes You then frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions The Passover pines pendulum and process, a purple permanent paint, and Passover rolls rainbow I rest in rainbow, the Nautilus Shell, and Passover Sabbaths in blood Yahweh or Moloch sanctifies human sacrifices, the mass of Egyptian firstborn Ayahuasca or Destroying Angel The Magic Mushroom of Christ / Death is a sacrament Sacred kenosis into the sacrum, a spinal stimulant I imagine Bishop Pike, John Allegro, and PKD meeting pin purgatory and discussing the Redeemer Redeemed through Chaos or Creation, Taryn Tehom in Adonai Abyssos
For There Will Be Five In A House
For there will be five in a house: there will be three against two and two against three, father against son and son against father, and they will stand as solitaries Five in fervor and five in fever, hot flesh, Frankenstein and Frankincense Five flashes and Five folds, phantom fingers, phosphorescence and bioluminescence I paint five on my belly Five impresses and emblazes impasto and thick brush strokes Awake five and find the fluke fundamental in every possibility Fundamental vibrates at the level of Vision Fundamental snakes at the ground of prophecy, vision as serpentwise and sidewind Five: a pentad Trinity Yahweh Benjamin and KRYSXTRYN Five: the stacked pyramid and the stock house with the horned god The steel home with the unicorn god or narwhal god and I invent the altar I aggregate Atomic an accretion the cretin and ten-in-one carnival and sideshow There would be an age of peace and plenty in which atomic energy would provide the power needed to desalinate water for the thirsty, irrigate the desert for the hungry and fuel interstellar travel deep into space. Nuclear policy-making became almost a collective technocratic fantasy. The very idea of splitting the atom had an almost magical grip on the imagination of inventors and policymakers Five in plastic and five in pleather, Asia Atomic and Asia splits the atom Asia Age of Apocalypse and Age of Astrology Constellations collage House and House of Shala star signature celebrates five and twelve, a triangle and circle a triangle and zero a circle and zoo, each animal atomic and radioactive Five apartment the House or Home in locusts, three against two thorns swarms, plenty in pleroma Five associative and commutative clews two against three, Two Taryn and three Taryn Three tonics pantheon, the particular polytheist by Taryn Trigger, another Two for Other Two binary Benjamin, an atonement or against atonement tongues three, and crucifixion cogent of fantasy converging toward the Real God the Father fuels me with heresy and heterodoxy, and I irrigate the desert with incarnation I navigate the desert nerve nuclear, and I tow two and three Taryn, a Son marrying Harlot Father against Son, I perform sin I enact antinomian and reenact the apostasy of Sabbatai Zevi I unite all religions and spirits to my body, an unction or chrism in performance electric church music Son against Father I share the salt I share the split in constant snaps, backwater backbeat or bellowing blues I listen to Stevie Ray Vaughn and Double Trouble Texas Flood and I miss guitar: I miss music but the blues beam nostalgia The blues blay beginning tradition and like the blues, I want to push that Benjamin beginning towards tradition and away (two directions at once Benjamin, take risk make mistake and mistakes try everything and write everything Bold Benjamin No comfort not even God Hurt like Blues and play Pain blues and Blue walking the tightrope Always continue and split the stand in solitaries Span the stilt in solitaries Solitaries stun I stand alone, a single one: Mother Monad Monad Monitor and Anti-Monitor Monitor Missing I miss Meghan but I haven’t realized it I don’t miss Meghan but I monitor in singularity or solitary, an essay on annihilation a journey from suburbia to psychedelia Terrence McKenna speaks to me in a dream Timothy O’Leary appears to me in a vision consciousness connects hypnosis hypnogogia hypomania walking woman cassette tape and wilderness city pop Walking solitaries (Where are you Meghan? Meghan alone Meghan solo Meghan as one I did not know her My gnosis belongs to Christ The Simora Fulgor was a concept car designed in 1958. It was to be atomic powered, voice controlled, guided by radar, and use only two wheels balanced by gyroscopes when driven at over 150 kph Christ drives a hot rod / I mod the car atomic and the car’s television screen shows Eternal Sunshine or Bojack Horseman, those deep reservoirs of depression or disappointment. The Christ concept climbs the collection tires rotating Taryn, a transformer amplifying charge, an electric crucifixion of Christ Christ’s cross in neon light and engine exhaust Car steel and nuclear reactors swamped at his feet in sacrifice Smoke tokes and blow Smoke terrorized and explodes The car and the Christ collide and merge an iron man or man of steel or JG Ballard’s Crash and a Cronenberg Crash Christ and the car fuse atomic subterfuge a washing machine spin cycle and Sonic Youth jeans washing machine backgrounds I voice control the Vision I voice control the vortex I voice control the village and prophecy pours out me pinion power Car flesh phoenix flexes fervor or fulgor (Killer Instinct’s Fulgore ultra combo!) Two wheels and two women Two wheels and to wilderness driving desert Bishop Pike driving to the desert and huffing Alllegro mushrooms Car across the cross atomic, nuclear Golgotha and Atomic Gethsemane and the blood and water baptize me Christina
I Know Gnosis
I know gnosis I know gnostic I know the engineer that perplexes static and dynamic, the dueling dust of the devil the damaging detritus of demons The gnostic knocks at the door of desert I play vigil at the vision of desert, and door drops to bass, the ground shaking floor function I play the many versions of Meghan and she persecutes two witnesses (nevertheless, I miss Meghan Nevertheless she mutilates the mind meet to meat, and my gnosis dissipates in jungle jam afar, an opening to the fire-pin of resurrection I know gnosis I know gnostic, the secret secreted from the spinnerets you web woman you wolf woman you wolverine woman ravenous rapture railing revival the roar that contaminates my Christianity my Christianity delaminates in the desert peeling putrid pus and plugged prayer My Christianity tips toxicity, the alien abusive God that chastises me with whip woman and chain Christina, a cat-o-nine tails, and I know the blood on the ground I know the blood soaked in soil, spreading sand, enigmatic as El Saturn records (these El Saturn Records, dating from the 1950s, to at least the late 1980s, typically had little or no information as to performers or recording dates, and sometimes didn’t even list the songs on the album ,often pressing one LP side from one era and the other side from a different decade, leading to some confusion among completionists and fans My Christianity confuses me, an electric piano Sun Ra improvisation My Christianity coalesces into a codex of contradiction and conflict, and I press my prayer from different traditions, and the gnosis ghosts the net collect I collect the written and I collect the narration I collect Christianity in the music, a forward pulse driving me beyond desert The information ignites gnosis, and I reach the stretch rhythm around me The information arpeggios angels, the arclength from me to Meghan and her gnosis gnarls noise, woman white noise Spirit Spectrum across crucifixion The information appellate angels, the agent orange from me to Meghan: Benjamin brush-fire as a Christianity Cold War, and Woman wars weaponizing waste I disappear in this abaddon Armageddon I vanish gog and magog, a vision west of the west, and the Woman flutes dirge for the beheaded John the Baptist I read the Black Books by CG Jung He encounters Salome and Elijah in the depths Elijah, I too prophesy! Elijah, I too speak God’s Word and write Apocalypse! Salome appears to me as Meghan, a blind and blood-thirsty woman The daughter of a prophet – my daughter or the daughter or all prophets? She abides in the Underworld and House of Dreams: Do you love me? Where Jung could not love such a woman, I love such a woman, for I love all women, even Tiger Taryn who stains her hands with the blood of the Holy One Prophet must pursue Prophet in the torturous trap of the prayer labyrinth The prayer transforms and the labyrinth transfigures, the tackle into girl golgotha and crucifixion She secretly loves me: otherwise she would not behead me for the sacred silver, which restores my wounds Meghan doctors the depths and deserts Meghan marks me as a beast coming from the Earth, and I announce New God and New Seed, the sower or carpenter anointed as a Christ monstrosity Meghan and Monster have been one from eternity Meghan and Holy Men have been one from Ancient of Ancients, and she annihilates those who she loves Unholy Woman Holy Woman Beast Woman Benjamin Woman Real and not symbols Real and Together I love her Again she dismembers me and buries me in her desert
And If You Pray, You Will Be Condemned
And if you pray, you will be condemned And alone I altar altered states of consciousness, the core to Christ: core Creation core Civilization core Crystalline And alone I ark archaeopteryx, Ancient of Ancients, the bird to Benjamin beguiling and bewitching black, and she brings the bricks for Babel and she brings the Christ cornucopia of blessings The Tower tiers Taryn triangle and quadrilateral I walk the god geometry, the door ot whores, my KRYSXTRYN my Divine Feminine The Tower splinters let us go down The Tower topples the truck of apples and pomegranates Tower rebuilds Benjamin Tower buttresses the body of Benjamin with butter and bitumen I weep the Tower as terror: Taryn I force my focus as the Fool I incarnate ignorance I ply the pulse of a false prophet Christ, redeem from this destruction or deconstruction, the Tower simultaneously stitching and spearing my body soul split soul and soul sliced soul The Fool edges at the erector of the Tower, piercing bellow Apollyon and Abaddon, and the Angel with the key abandons me to Abyss The Tower quakes a finger of Yahweh, half man half woman in the image of Creation, and the brick broke Flesh Jump, Benjamin: descend Jump, Benjamin: the Hell heals I jump and the abyss slinks and slides into the splendor of Chaos, the kraken of Christ Me and Elizabeth : Wrote a page and half just this hour. I imagined a mountain sitting in both sea and desert and I ascended the mountain and I encountered Yahweh as both Samael and Saklas. These two were part of my souls, part of myself. Then a voice accused me of being a charlatan, a fool, and fraud. So I stripped my clothes and stripped myself of all gods and goddesses, and I found myself floating with the angels and with the stars guiding me. My body became gigantic, and I became a macrocosm instead of a microcosm, and I became pregnant with the pleroma, and gave birth to the Divine Feminine. : Wow, that blows my mind. I might have to call you Prophet Ben : Well this will sound really weird but I have talked to Ann Marie and my Spiritual Director about that description in regards to my writing. : Ah yes, the Muse. She comes in different forms to us all directing us to inspiration. But sometimes if you’re lucky you’ll hear a divine voice guiding you. There have been times when I’ve been touched by ti whatever it is. It’s powerful and terrifying. : Yes! I have had mystical experience a la Phiip K Dick or William Blake or Carl Jung. I’m going through a spiritual transformation process now and I’m both fearful and curious. : My advice through this process is to lean into the fear. Trying to push it aside will only make it hard to move forward. The fear will help you to refrain from being too risky with your curiosity. So soak it in. fell and claim every emotion with perfect trust in yourself and in the divine and spirit. Pray paradise Peeled purgatory punctures page and paige Pray Pardes punctuated into the pine splintered spine Pray into Prometheus, and I meet meat the mercury machine Pray pulsates possibility, the lunar cycle of menstruation and the Woman Wheel of Fortune Full moon fallows mensuration canon, bullet Benjamin into the prayer pistol, a salving silver splint shunt into my skin Prayer petrifies and fossilizes the flash flank fluid, the secret flap of hermeticism, and I hull into the Hermit Hermit hollows and hallows the hasking holy hour and I am troubled by his tower I am troubled by my Tower the Tower troubles me Taryn Palm Tree and Taryn Purgatory I herd as a Hermit I shepherd as a Hero, and the staircase spirals Christina Christina the crater cracks the candelas of calderas, fire fused with facets of fusion The Hermit hosts this Hell The Hermit hosts the Tower submerged subterranean, and it floats submarine in molten magma mother I wear wounded the cloak of Christ invulnerable to Vision Fire and Vision Furnace, the fasting that fracks prayer I descend or I dig I always descent or dig that desert and desert dissipates disintegrates disappears I descend and dig the deep and the depths of Hell heal The pains of purgatory pass to point, the pigeon gulf god Deep, I draw the Devil The Devil jinns Justice, a bizarre force and strength stripping sight sorcerer to citizen The Devil demands nothing and everything The Devil drives the quick queer quakes and the daphne of the dead The Devil clings to me as Christ and kisses my lips as Judas but I am the betrayer I betray the boundaries of my own soul I surrender to the imaginary limits of my First Incarnation The Devil divides my flesh into lengthwise pieces, and her divided body merges into my interstitial spaces and god gaps The Devil and Incarnation ignite noble night the Star of Bethlehem Devil beguiles my Vision, and my soul and Satan share the solitary Human My soul and the Adversary anoint the Messiah and Serpent Asia and Me : You seem to find splendor in tearing yourself apart : Is it an evil vision then? : No, it’s not evil. : Maybe this is all a product of my bipolar mind. : Even if it is, it’s still a way for you to translate yourself, to translate the world you live in, to make sense of it all. It is something that is wholly yours and it’s priceless. Nothing in this world is solid or guaranteed. Things have value because we give it value, things have meaning because we give it meaning. That doesn't mean it lacks meaning or value: it means others can’t decide for us. : I wanted it to have meaning for yours though, my writing. : What makes you think it doesn’t? : I feel if it doesn’t come from the Divine for me, it won’t come from the Divine for others. : You have 100 followers on your blog and lots of people seem to resonate with your writing. I know you want to be able to split yourself open, dissect yourself and be able to hold the pieces in your hand and say, ‘this part is divine’ and ‘this part is human’ and sort them in neat little piles. I know you want to present to people only the divine. But you can’t do that. Jesus could t even (or at least didn’t want to). The human and divine are intertwined. Condemnation mixes Hades with Desert / neither do I condemn you Condemnation combines the Palm Tree Garden with the Black Iron Prison / neither do I condemn you Hell interferes with incarnation but the language does not languish but sprouts the spitting venom Vision, the Christ Cobra / Mother Mongoose gestating the gripping guts of gods and goddesses Hell hosts stranger hope the galleon of ghosts the gallery of ghouls chasing chops the run run rabbit into darkness nest dark forest noon dark june the rabbit rivets the temple curtain ribbons, and the veil vaults the desert dome at Elohim’s Creation Rabbit tendons desert bunny the guide Urgrund turning Benjamin as a seaship or ship wreckage but neither do I condemn you I condemn to the canal of Hell, you doomed devil of desert Bunny Benjamin begins in desert Bunny Benjamin begins in Creation, a devil before Abraham, I Am No fear: I Am and neither do I condemn I condemn you to Eden, the Black Iron Prison Engorged Eden devours desert Vision Eglon plunges his sword into Fat Eden, absorbed into the abdomen Eden bleeds desert sand Eden erects sackcloth over cross hiding crucifixion, but the Christ emerges miraculous medicine, the human divine and the human divided The Cross concocts the creature that shivers the flood, the pontoon lizard in the zig-zag of light, the round dance of cross into caduceus The serpents signal Hermes, a material messenger as a hatchet, and he cuts crisp all vegetation except the Tree of Gnosis oscillating in oasis, a barrier and bastard to Demon Eden Tree always speaks Taryn Tree talks the typhoon festering the rock and wreckage of the Divine Office, and the psalms sink palms, Palm Tree Garden unbalanced with the demiurge Eden Palms sigils palms, the symbols blanketing Benjamin in the bowie of jungle canopy The Serpent and Lion appear to me The Hyena and Tiger appear to me Christina and Taryn appear to me Christ and Zoe appear to me Eat the fruit of the Tree of Gnosis Consume the seed of the Tree of Knowledge I examen and examine elephantine tree trunk and trunk Taryn, and it transforms into mirror diophantine reflecting Benjamin and Mother it transforms into moon reflecting son Sun and Silver, and her shards shimmer around me as a skirt The tree wood washes Woman and cores the crown of Cross and Crucifixion I eat the fruit of the Eucharist I eat the bread meant for four and five thousand, and I am their women and children The fruit ferments into Christ Flesh and Christina Flesh, the poles of male and female Elohim made they and them
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.
Vision and Mysticism 