The matrix of all earthly phenomena unfolds as a network of coordinates and fractions and multiples
Matrix machines figure with meat: matrix distills a philosophical mercury and pours the quicksilver over my queer body. Ben bodies bathe in mercury matrix body without organs. Matrix machines body archive and archival bodies pulse angles and angle grinder gods. Archival bodies grind the molten matrix of libraries. Archive bodies pulse angels and anglers gut grindcore distortions. I meet matrix figure with meat and I bisect my body into two books and two hooks, and the books hocket matrix bodies. Matrix nests and itself becomes its desert distilled mercury and I drink the mercurial desert matrix as radioactive quackery, and my jaw develops pockets of pus.
Matrix as earth hangs car and disturbing crucifixions I compose crucifixion in bone matrix and bone bath Earth matrix unfolds melodic actions and acts harmony unearth earth Matrix earth riots night train and space field: my field body unfolds blade fuller My field body unfolds fresh meat and the flesh meat recalls the lavish arrangements of fruits, meats, and confections of 17th century vanitas paintings
My body unfolds blade fuller full the bisects halves of a cow
Taryn ten ten Taryn tomorrow train terminal Taryn long tone terminal divines the chord pantonal (Ellen Fullman’s Long String Instrument tunes tenor tabletop games in just intonation I rub strings with rosined hands and produce longitudinal vibrations: vibrating map slipping vibrating map)
Taryn ten ten fingers fuller space field floating point tonalities Taryn ten new tonalities: Taryn ten tune ton ten tonalities in deserts Her matrix mixes tonalities Taryn sonata or sonatine
I listen to longer vibrational musics and I listen the longer longitudinal musics: these musics tine Taryn trine copper mine emerges Taryn matrix minerals Her musics mer matrix mar car call chaconne matrix musics I listen to a mercury music and a matrix music and I repeat the music fragments late Morton Feldman
I listen to an industrial music and a suburb hubcap haunted house ambiance I imitate melody mode ten dream industry I mean or mode imitative melody and I dream imitation imitative melody and I dream imitation initiation industries I idle industry imitation big bomb blonde Edmond Honda thousand slaps In immediate industry I get up and eat excessively I eat excess earth industry and I dream matrix Matrix meter maximum city of industry
The verb of the matrix myth Taryn music Three verbs in my mouth between my teeth teeter industry Verb herd earth matrix night train Taryn Verbs bus Taryn music rubber neon lead looser lights liminal / I draw her dreams on water I draw Taryn water drift vision melted verb paper sculpture Taryn paper music
Matrix musics match hack matrix figure with meat Meat blurs ben body borrowed bodies deformed Matrix deforms blue desert glassbox torture chamber Matrix strata strews stone Taryn sonata and sonatine I repeat matrix sonata-allegro act tonalities repeat tonal matrix
Repeat verb matrix tone clusters
Repeat cluster body matrix meat body without organs / I repeat the verb verb and I repeat the matrix matrix. I experiment the verb s vision wormhole or tipler cylinder. I repeat the rotating infinite cylinder and I traverse the center cylinder matrix sonatas. I repeat the verb verb narrative music and music myth. The music narrative repeats matrix: music narrative repeats figure with meat. Matrix repetition match rhizome matrix and I make matrix into multiple verbs.
Verb forest architecture form forest Verb first forest matrix architecture form forest Verb first forge forest matrix architecture matrix fire form forest
Verb revives Book forest fierce matrix architecture Verb revives Book of leaves of grass stalk verb matrices myth narratives I narrate verb forest forum irregular architecture irregular conjugates Forest verb narrates form forms float formless armageddon / architecture matrix manipulates apocalypse Verb forest flowers Taryn blade fuller serpent apocalypse
Multiple matrices act multiple matrices Multiple matrices meat Taryn ten fingers new ten tonalities Pantonal Taryn coordiantes twelve-tone row Taryn matrix Taryn scratches matrix tonalities I tune hues Taryn tonality of the deserts
I look a certain slant of light and her light torches multiple matrix narrative. I look for the narrative she lights the lights but also her speech which spills sonata spirit. I admit a difficulty trying to integrate anarchic fragment-constellations, myth narrative, and the conversations I have with Asia, Taryn, Krystal and Ghost Christina. I either imagine myself as Igor Stravinsky’s Symphonies for Wind Instruments and I juxtapose anarchic fragments against narrative, no transition. Similarly, I work like that great juxtapose Olivier Messiaen. At other times, I desire control and complete syntactical and semantic integration of my developing variations like Pierre Boulez’s Le Marta sans maitre: all transition, all development, even if it’s a mystery to everyone but the composer. The fragment floats in my brain like ant antennae and I feel my way through the earth in the sentence fragment. I’m a brutish monolingual: I’m only a polyglot in the Finnegans Wake sense, thunderwords in a dream.
James Turrell, Dividing the Light. 2007. Dividing the Light gathers visitors in benches beneath a canopy that frames a window to the sky. At dusk and dawn a lighting program bathes the canopy in changing colors, from goldenrod to turquoise, altering the viewer’s perception of the sky. One moment it’s a dreamy lavender, another it’s a ominous table of black. A shallow pool center beneath the opening to the sky mirrors the daytime sky and reflects a dark echo f the night sky… That sounds really cool, says Asia. It goes to show you can never exhaust art, I say. There's always more mediums, more ways to explore. Art is never dead, I say. Stuff like that shouldn’t just be in art museums, says Asia. It should be in bus stops and libraries and schools. Soup kitchens. Public parks. We should be enriching our public spaces and not putting art behind a paywall, she says. Yes, you are 100 percent right, I say. Art is life and life is art. It’s human and we need to make art as community. Not think of ourselves as not artists. This is what I’m talking about when I say I am doing creative anarchy: this communal art aspect, this community art aspect, where it’s available for everyone to participate in, observe, and enjoy, I say. I hate so many public structures are ugly, says Asia. Like schools. Not just ugly: they feel and look like prison. The prison feel is on purpose, I say. Same with why military barracks look like that. It’s to train bodies and discipline them. I agree, says Asia. Art invites questions, I say. Art invites independent participation. It’s contrary to the prison-school, I say. So we change our physical structures while also shifting the non-physical ones, says Asia.
Desert matrix detours Taryn figure with meat desert midnight meat train Matrix as desert multiples paints matte meat Taryn tomorrow train terminal Taryn as a flock of arctic terns migrates over the matrix and it teems undifferentiated nude Taryn bodies Taryn teems bodies matrix bodies verb and she possesses the verb language
The visible world with its teeming creatures, is none other than the word transpired: all things arise out of the combinations and rearrangements of the letters
I slice blood visible the matrix of the letters I slice high hole whole blood teeming with platelets, plasma, and red blood cell pornographic bodies I slice letters longitudinal tone clusters and crisp bacon clymenestra Slit eye surreal myth marbled figure with meat
Letters light mystery Letters light mystery first mystery and last mystery and the twenty-fourth mystery (twenty-four hours to go I want to be sedated)
Lepidopterous letters wing word and word membrane of mystery Letters leap sermon: letters leak sermon lesser lights and greater lights Letter lithograph simultaneous combinations combination station of the cross Letters line low lavender greater lights sponge speed Sponge speed light letters coral filament or air-conditioner filter Letters roll verb using art objects / my ugly writing pulsed pimple pus from the bruised purple craters of my face
There’s a difference between boring ugly and interesting ugly, I say. Schools and prisons and office spaces are ugly boring. Interesting ugly is like those steel monstrosities by Richard Serra. I don’t think they are pretty sculptures but they are interesting. They break up the space differently. School space is uniform space, boring space, unadorned space. The right type of ugly can change the mind too. Richard Serra in the 1960s and 1970s did a whole group of sculptures based on verbs. Verbs like “to prop” and “to splash” were made into sculptures. (Another pivotal moment for Serra occurred in 1969 when he was commissioned by the artist Jasper Johns to make a splash piece in John’s studio. While Serra heated the plates to splash against the wall, he took one of the large plates and set it in the corner where it stood on its own. Serra’s break into space followed shortly after with the sculptures Strike: To Roberta and Rudy (1969-71). Serra wedged an 8 by 24-foot plate of steel into a corner and divided the room into two equal spaces. The work invited the viewer to walk around the sculpture, shifting the viewer's perception of the room as they walked. Around that time Serra wrote Verb List (1967), a list of transitive verbs (e.g. cast, roll, tear, prop, etc) which he used as directions for his sculptures. To Lift (1967) and Thirty-Five Feat of Lead Rolled Up (1968), Splash Piece (1968) and Casting (1969) were some of the action-based works with origins in the verb list. Serra used lead in many of his constructs because of its adaptability. Lead is malleable enough to be rolled, folded, ripped, and melted.) I think the results are aesthetically ugly to me, but I find it invites me into the process: I am interested in the process and that process inspires me. It inspires me to be OK making ugly things if it causes a change in perception. I get really obsessed with making my writing BEAUTIFUL, not realizing it sometimes traps me in the limitations of my own making, I say. Kids love ugly art, says Asia, so I think it could work for schools, especially if it was done in a fun absurd way, she says. I need to change my perceptions on ugly, I say. I’m too concerned with consonance in my writing but enough dissonance.
Verb resolves verb and I perform verb violent action I act verb and Teo Macero invades my membrane I act Teo Macero machine verb matrix and I sculpt text from hours of rough jams long language I listen verb long language duplex longa verb desert Verb body desert bolt salt soda pop language / pop soap bake body verb Versions viscous vellum invade membranes brawl palimpsest
Verb letters resolve verb letters her desert door hinge
I glue verb to verb and I stack the verbs verbum and logos. I glue slut logos verb verbum harlot and its sex plays mascara happening and lipstick shamanism. The animist verb valley spirits letters and cicada animation accumulations. I glue the verb collection into and onto the verb collection, and its archive usurps lepidopterous letters logos. When me they fly I am the wings and I whirlwind new verbs and new combinations of previously verbs.
Ben, be careful at your work for it is her work; if you leave out but one letter or write one letter too many, you destroy the world.
I careful my work and I create worlds and destroy worlds through letters: the sayings of the letters and the writings of the letters I careful my work large letters and small letters legerdemain magick cursive slate serpents (successive utterance of the divine names produce the four worlds / Taryn Tetractys)
Repeat verb matrix tone clusters and cluster the letters Her letters cluster her work at your work
Tag: Jesus
Dialogue Dwells Fencing Flesh (Excerpt from Book #15)
Dialogue dwells fencing flesh and sores swords, saints sliced into sections saints sandwiched between spears the dead give in dialogue to me piercing prayer from Jerusalem the piercing chill I feel my dead wife’s comb in our bedroom under my heel the piercing hell I feel fastening itself to my flesh and it burns an image of Benjamin it fastens with fire the letters of the law and Taryn Torah the letters flash black fire on white fire white fire on black fire the thread of the Book weaving Woman the wearer sees her fibre as the poet sees her word Poet Prayer Poet Purgatory Poet Prayer for the Dead Poet limbic limbo and palace purgatory and purgatory pierces brimstone to Benjamin Sodom and Gomorrah Holy Spirit Sodom and Sadist and God Gomorrah and Golgotha Gethsemane greens gospel into Gomorrah, my sister cities of the plains my sisters queer and homosexual sunned in salt My frame fucked flesh my flesh fucked frame to the fires of Hell Hell is Gospel Hell gospels Gospel and Gospel gospels Hell, Hades depths deep distant Desert devastation and deconstruction shedding Christianity Christianity molting from my exoskeleton body (my frame fucked flesh my flesh fucked frame the fuse furnace firmament I circle and roll the riptide the dead dead dirt destitute Rahab the Dragon and prostitute and I pay plith pint flint foal frozen to the dead, satisfying sheol Void Vision satisfies Sheol, the King of Babylon buried broach brash brothers, and I blame Babylon my Brother I kin cocaine to Kings, a cocaine blues bastard, and writing bastardizes and orphans Gospel bastards and splits families at the turret trunk, ax Taryn Tiamat chainsaw chosen Christina they cane caine crane at my calves, crippling, and Gospel cripples colonization and imperialism Gospel kills and canonizes I listen to There’s a Riot Goin’ On by Sly and the Family Stone the new urban music, writes Vince Aletti, not about dancing to the music, in the streets. It’s about disintegration, getting fucked up, nodding, maybe dying. There are flashes of euphoria, ironic laughter, even some bright stretches, but mostly it’s just junkie death, oddly unoppressive and almost attractive in its effortlessness… There’s a riot goin’ on rough riot rich riot riot unruly riot rapture, the judgment at the resurrection, the sound of the trumpet, arcadian angel there’s a riot, desert disintegration there’s a riot, flesh fucked up from phantoms there’s a riot, nodding nuisance and nuclear into Indra’s Net there’s a riot, maybe dying into the marbled movement of hard bop There is a passage in The Red Book by C.G. Jung where it states: No one knows what Christ endured during his 3 days in Hell… I have experienced it. He also wrote, Whoever ventures into Hell becomes Hell. I have become Hell. My body has become a chamber and purgatory for my own soul. I fear I am becoming a terrible pagan and polytheist. I feel the singular God Yahweh sprouting and growing into multiple gods and goddesses in my soul. I feel the Trinity becoming a plethora of trinities. I fear for my Christianity. It molts, it sheds, changing into something I do not recognize. This Hell is especially painful because I have only recognized Christianity my entire life. My Christianity is dying, being planted as a seed in my soul, and become a Tree of Mustard Seed Gnosis I do not recognize. Christianity resurrects into a strange pagan Christianity, an Ancient of Ancients Christianity where the old golds roam free and express themselves. What a hell indeed. I feel I’m becoming closer to a Magician or Theurgist now, and the Divine actively acts upon me and through me. And I have to write it down and share it. My Spiritual Director writes to me: Thank you, Benjamin… I have found in my own journey, that painful honesty is the most valuable… honestly with others of course and more importantly with myself. It opens doors into ‘hells’ and ‘heavens’ that must be traveled either consciously or subconsciously (both, actually)… It is such a deep gift to us (all who know you) that you journey to openly and consciously – I believe it is the messianic (Christ) way that Jesus himself followed… No matter where it led. Ultimately what matters is being authentic… being ‘at one with’ was the thing, even if it led to the cross, and journey through hell… Being thought by some to be a heretic, blasphemer, or magician, a prophet, or… savior. It was Jesus who said (according to the gospels anyways), ‘unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies’ – Jn. 12:24 Love will carry you, even through the burning of Hell… With great respect and much love, Matt My soul singles out sheol My heart heals in the hulls of hell, and I half my horn hedged over hedged in by the hand of Elohim Hell holds me in haste a paste pestilence pouring pus from my orifices, and I scrape my bare skull with a potsherd Hell inhabits and inhibits hallucinatory, a yast yard Yahweh ayahausca, and I see the saints sandy swords around me, steel shade and iron shadows I witness the wheels whistling heisenberg and hindenberg, a heist hit hoisting hugs possessed by legion demon damage my psyche, but the daemon mer mercury and hermes Others feel on rock, and they did not take root in the soil and did not produce heads of grain I feel on the rock I fell on the Christ rock I fell on the Christina rock I fell floating fiat, my body a spinning sheepherder plane, and plane pierces plane in intersection in juxtaposition disjunctions in flesh functions outward and oar ear eat difference place prophecies orthogonal and diagonal the dead dissuading the desert and the desert determines Benjamin Berserk Prophecy Pagan Be intimate interview with the underworld Hospitable hospital hell hell hills happening and happenstance, the rock ruling the remainder, the petals of the Rose Petal ails all an ointment and crushed yields sweet sheet fragrance fragrance flits and flirts with my flesh and I flaunt fire pagan fire gnostic fire heathen fire Book becomes the bewitchment of the Book of Shadows Book grows as grimoire and generates gods Depths dray dire wolves depths drink the dross and droid, river robotics rifling my rhine, a rink and rib wrestles raw the risk to my subconscious subconscious closes cloister, the cruise clipping crutch, and subconscious kinks cask and casket subconscious cartons coffin, cartoon caricatures, and depths dizzy death depths dine death decision, dewy dice chance she conscious, the slewing of many heroes and my heroics hoist me to my hanging my heroics haul me to hell hell house hell home hell hospital hell hospice heroics heave to God’s gallows by the gullard blood gallons blood gear ends blood galaxies shearer universal sacrifice archetypal sacrifice collective unconsciousness Root rock alive root rock alice root rock alip
For Nation Shall Rise Against Nation (excerpt from Book #15)
For nation shall rise against nation, and Kingdom against Kingdom: and there shall be earthquakes in divers places, and there shall be famines and troubles: these are the beginnings of sorrows Nations narrates my name and my name networks nation to Word and Woman Nation nurtures my name as a newborn and she mothers the many and one One ox and onyx by the bath, and nursery altars four horns for slaughter slaughter sleuths soothsayer and seer and I say the desert dungeon, the Black Iron Prison, Christina the Faerie Queen who assists in my escape and exist but later exit the language I never neither nothing from nation, my birthplace in Bethlehem Kingdom kings the kitchen Kingdom cooks Christ brain and cranium, cracked open to ambulate the one letter Kingdom keeps as a crypt, the underground catacombs for secret Christians, and gnosis nails its own nation I circulate among the secret Christians as a surgeon’s room and womb, and Eucharist ankhs as an operating table Kingdom cuts as Krystal, a skull carving and craving Kingdom cues my queer cock creeping the cliff dream glphy vision girl memory Elaine Elohim and Elaine elemental, the El Elyon yapped to Kingdom, and she keens her crotchets she queers her quavers quivering and I coke the Kingdom chrysolite I cap the Kingdom cubes and quintets in quotient, erotic earthquakes earthquakes ache eros and thanatos, driving death to the descent Earthquakes anguish pornographic and pulp, dirt horror and live burial Benjamin sex and horror in one gigantic thrill show! The living dead march again…. Torturing! Terrorizing! REVOLT OF THE ZOMBIES primitive passion…. As the man of stone makes love to the Jungle Queen! BLONDE SAVAGE Sex selects and dissects Benjamin and Elaine laughing insecting Sex stropes and stretches stripping sacrifices to Stravinsky Sex stinks and starks Shekinah descending on the parents of Moses and I too bear the feminine My testimony is Christina and my law is Taryn Elaine circumcises me as Zipporah Zebra, the VALIS vision camouflaged as Christ I imitate and intimate PKD as my soul-spark, and through him as a Thomas, I transgress the Law I transgress the Law as Taryn in divers places, and her ardour for me ararats anonymous and androgynous antinomian, my name in anarchy Divers places plunge to depths, Hell and Hell Underworld and Underworld Visiting vision Queer Death and she vanishes from my vantage, an author of the avant-garde Divers ditches desolate and destitute, the dog dining dinosaur and dirge divers din dizzy and dozer, the daughter drowning dam A’dam Blood builds silvers places the palace with its pain in pearls Blood barges divers deep in den, a dalliance dodging difference writing and difference difference and nonlinearity nonlinearity and fractalization, my Flesh in Famine Famine forces the fire into my fermenting flesh wine and woman strong drink and damsel disintegration Famine flirts a fistula from the fish, Christhood and Godhood and Godhead Famine flows the fashion flapping bloody flags, and I wrap my wounds in Taryn tatters The thrashings trouble me the throttles train tray trouble me, Taryn torque and torsion the tarot troubles me, cooking my Christ at the athanor, and the alchemy unchaste hastes in Chariot revelation troubles tingle and tickle topsey-turvey topological troubles trigger and trickle through trap controllers and tooth prophetic and soothsayer I cavity beyond Christianity, a channel and chattel charging rabbit Holy Spirit and Bunny Christina-Benjamin I must clock clear against this colonialism and incarnational imperialism and ant new covenant, the work of Woman Word of Woman Female Flesh and Underworld Word and thread exist the desert dimension the dirt diagonal the dune determinant Word and thread thrine thrice to the world Trinity and oreo oroborus auto-cannibalizing Word and thread track twos and threes trowing tantrums as todders and Word and thread thunder tots and tits No more group experiments! See me alone or not at all! The trouble with you is you’re all ashamed of your bodies… I’m just here to get a beautiful rich doctor… I’m not hour mama, baby… I’m a registered nurse… It’s always harder at night for the NIGHT CALL NURSES Night call nurses nurse and noose and the group gerunds the errands, and I experiment experience I experiment existential and I exercise exorcism alone aloft alvin, and I drift draftomatic and automaton group mechanical and marionette Mansion and alone, my body bolds bright and brilliant Alone my body bistros with bullion and billiards my nursing nets the surreal my nursing melors magic and majestic my nursing alphabets offal language trip Taryn lingua laughter and I loosen the threads vibrating from source and time I rosin the rose timing threads vibrating from vision space and vision time nurse time messianic nurse time apostolic I invent the tradition I return to and the cycles reinvent me But take heed to yourselves; for they shall deliver you up to councils; and in the synagogues ye shall be beaten: and ye shall be brought before rulers and kings for my sake, for a testimony against them Take heed to the hip, a holster and huntess hosting hogs in the forest, and the forest fences fool, and Horned Fool Forest fuasts flowing the surface and attractant, a slit into the platonic solids, and the net newts corpus hypercubus Forest fasts floundering the stasis and stagnation, a slip into newtonian liquids, and the knot nifts corpus callosum my brain biology bursts buoyancy, the Book and Bible bounce from word to atomic and subatomic vibration, a liberation through the lilting Sabbath and Sabaoth Take heed to the holt and happening, the hellowing hug from Hell, and that Hell hordes and harbours my hangar horrors my hunger horrors my hollow horrous Hell hissed the strange hope otherworldly and underworldly (This spiritual transformation wants to drag me into the Greek Underworld. It wants to take me to Hades to meet the dead. It wants to inject paganism into my Christianity This God beckons me beyond the boundaries of Christianity. Can Christianity limit me? She laughs. Are you too not a pagan, associated with pagans and dine with pagans? Are you also not a gentile? Embrace your worlds! Christianity is one world, paganism another, and Judaism another. Embrace your world for here the Divine has no limit. This is part of my underworld. Is this God truly speaking? Or the Adversary? Yet does the Adversary stretch out it its hand without God knowing?) Take heed to hell and Hades and God from her Din and Disaster driveways devils God girts the Adversary with the temptation tangled Taryn, and Adonai and Adversary Anoint Messiah as a Single One Adonai-Adversary oak my orphaned oracle, and she chants chains of incantations engaging my ink body Adonai-Adversary operate on my opohilic orbs, wheels whaling wheels, and my body crosshairs Holy Hell Honorable Hades, hacing the trace of hospitality Adonai delivers up to Adonai, my own celebratory census The deliverer bulldozes Benjamin a danse macabre in the desert the deliverer balrogs Benjamin a momento mori in anamorphic mirror mirror foams Benjamin Mirror fantasizes avid frustrates female, and female frightens and frosts Hallelujah Female phantom and phantasmagoria float and l faunt Christian consumation and Christian cannibalism Through KRYSXTRYN I eat Christianity Through Elaine Elohim I chew Christ Christ exudes his female flavour and flesh daunts living bread living water water wells woman Christianity, Christ’s deliverer Councils cook Christianity but I consume Kingdom Councils biol Benjamin but I belie the burn in my belly You up in the universal unction and you to Yahweh, my weeping wounds, and councils curse craven and crucible I circumscribe confession and circumspection circling the council and I thirst for their Torah as a camel I reach for their wreckage as Rebekah, and I keen myself a mystic fool studying the cliff and underworld I’m a bit concerned about you being dragged into Hades, says Caro. That sounds too much like a justification for suicide? Are you OK? However God is much bigger than all our systems and symbology. I’m not suicidal, I say. It is Hades of my soul, not the body. Dark Night of the Soul / penetrating the Cloud of Unknowing. I’m still not entirety sure exactly. I will keep you updated. Thank you, says Caro. Be well and know that the holy Spirit is with you. I just want to say a little more on the Descent to the Underworld. In Jewish Kabbalah, Merkabah Mystics were said to descend into the earth to witness the throne of God. The Greek philosopher Parmenides said he descended to meet the Goddess and obtained his philosophy from her. In the Christian tradition, Christ descends to Hell in the harrowing of the Hell. CG Jung in his visions describes descending to the underworld of his soul, and obtaining the basis of his psychology there. For me, the underworld is both real and symbol: it is the depths and shadows of the psyche, of my shadow self, and helps me in contact with the depths of God that people like David in the Psalms and Job experienced, as well as Jesus before, during and after his crucifixion. It is the Death card of the Tarot, but not the actual death of the body. It instead involves a transformation, a crisis, a paradigm shift in spiritual thinking… Synagogues selene silicon and sodium, the second soothing salt synagogues salivate salty salve the singe of sorcery Synagogue swells sorcerers and shamans, and their steady magic merges ecstasy and eucharist in my ecstasy and ennoia, I descend and my descent always decors the deer desert demons desert daemons desert devils Adversary tempts me in desert, and my salt circle repels all persons my salt ellipse eclipses lions and young lions and lions lures the long lick, a tongue of laughter Descent desserts devastation and deconstruction, and deconstruction both devastates and integrates my altar, an altered state of consciousness Descent beasts as Beast and Baptist, and a hour grows with the beheading, a barracuda boomerang a barracks batarang the spotlight spooling incense You can try to write ‘The Last Batman Story’. But the thing is, people have been writing Batman stories for longer than I have been alive. They will be writing Batman stories after I’m dead. Batman is actually more real than me. The Myth makes real The Myth of the desert digs realer than me, and Christ emerges from Hell’s Hull realm than the crucifixion Reality and Real Real and Reality Myth Mothering mythmaking the Mother of Reality and Real Christina chiseling into the cornerstone Christ hammering the Umim and Thumim Taryn threading Tarot to my torso and the Beast berates me I jonah Jerusalem the boat bent towards Behemoth and Behemoth births Bethlehem The Dravidian drive David to droning rums and his horn hisses Holy Spirit His horn hawns halfings rulers and kings coning the crevasse for Krystal Rulers riot the rock of descent Rulers rife the ridges that ring ram, and I sacrifice rams and sheep along the descent King kills Queen and her queerdom damns their body hermaphrodite and hemoglobular, and blood boasts the burst from the bunsen burner and caustic chemistry nature masters nature and nature rules nature, the natural name and natural number King vulcans the fire vision, an anvil chorus flinting gnosis, and I miss my gnosis I miss my Christ the King who rises from ashes phoenix and glorifies Flesh the depths dark kingly light, the king illumination hinting incarnation the Depths doom domed depths, Kingly depths doming dreams as an expanse, and I expend my essence into its dreams Dreams drop the King, crescent water and moon water and dreams drizzle dune drop repetition rafting at the spokes Speak King: realize Ruler: the Christ exceeds The Christ invents excess terraforming Taryn at the boundaries I listen to Pharaoh Sanders on John Coltrane Live In Japan, and his saxophone exceeds the boundaries of Afro-Blue He screams te stretch of stars, sun altissimo and planetary creatures, the raw rotation of the spheres Spheres spawn the siphon sulking kings, testimony trading testimony, the taste of tradition the tramming taser of Taryn the testimony of a long soprano saxophone solo ancient of ancient arpeggios testimony taps tentacles tantalizing, the strophe tropes tacking as a troubadour I sing the sins testimony I sail the sins now testify and my sins strongarm my soul Black Iron Prison the testimony tings trolls thrills trills from the depths, time out of joint and time out of justice Depths tremor Taryn Depths bombard Babylon and Babalon Depths sheer sheet shit sheol Depths drill into the daphne of the damned, a dual redemption The Word is Silence and Sound Silence sirens Simon Peter a pistol for power, and the inverse crucifixion incises piano wire: word wizard of gore as a word wilma of guts grand guinol gizzards by the gross, and God multiplies women Woman multiplies God Sound sirens sorcerer and nucum necromancer and I visit vision dead and resurrect dead in Ezekiel judgment sound saps sonic sapphire and sulfur, the savor screw sabbath sound seers soul sacred and sister, the Saturn Psalter seltzer
God Is Dead But (Excerpt from Book #7)
God is dead but his ghost haunts my building. God-Is-Dead poltergeist activity throwing chairs and sliding tables across the floor (I levitate in my bed / God-Is-Dead sleep paralysis. Not God resurrection but God undead Neither from itself nor from another North from both Nor without a cause Does anything whatsoever, anywhere arise (God not living not dead not-not living or not-not dead One was and was-not Nothing from itself or from another Good and Evil originate God and originate from God / I the Lord God seven-fold I the Lord God complete destruction cities and bones crack before me (God-Is-Dead the Lord-Is-My-Adversary. This world is supported by a polarity, that of existence and non-existence. But when one sees the origination of the world as it actually is with the right discernment, non-existence with reference to the world does not occur to one. When one sees the cessation of the world as it actually is with the right discernment, existence with reference to the world does not occur to one (World as Man in the High Castle and Flow My Tears the Policeman Said World is Word a novel in existence and non-existence fiction realizing we’re fiction fiction becoming non-fiction and non-fiction becoming fiction This World is supported by text, that of trace and intertextuality (the Book of Acts chestbursting through Tears World God Being Infinite created out of the play of text / by being fictive they become real. Fiction is no longer an illusion because the spell of difference between word and thing vanishes. One who writes a Torah has indeed participated in the very act which creates and is God. It should come as no surprise that the God contains Adversary, the traumatic God Waste Land the Incarnation tried to heal and dress. When one sees Creation with proper discernment, text, interpretation, and material are fluid and intermarry (when all dharmas are empty, what is endless what has end what is endless and with an End what is not endless and not with an end / in my beginning is my End I never end I text pure consciousness (this text does not exist and yet exists Zebra or Brain St. Sophia What is it What is Other what is permanent what is impermanent What is impermanent and permanent (Trane center the monastery of his outness Trane Taryn his inness communicable language what is neither / I choose this and select that auspicious is the pacification of phenomenal metastasis, the purification of all apprehending: there is no dharma whatsoever taught by the Buddha whomever, whenever, wherever. I listen to He Loved Him Madly from Miles Davis’ Get Up With It. This is my new funeral song -- all 32 minutes. Sit your ass down and listen to 32 minutes my life shimmering soul swimming. I loved you all madly and I love you all madness. There are 600,000 interpretations to all the Torah, divided between the souls of the 600,000 children of Israel. The Torah is infinite, and so also even one of its letters is also Infinite (no letter no name no writing no word can comprise it, the Limits of Nothing Nothing and Empty Empty. How does one integrate everything that has previously happened? Write the Book. Book write benjamin (Taryn and benjamin. I am me this is Us All celestial levels come, one after another to rest by the Moon and give light. Each one shows the mystery of ten, so that it amounts to one hundred and when it stands in the mystery of one hundred, then everything is One.
My Breath is Corrupt (Excerpt from Book #15)
My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready for me My breath is corrupt: corrupt Benjamin breathes Christ. Corrupt Benjamin breathes Christina, a calling clipped to the name Christian. Call Christian: cleave Christian: cling Christian. Christian names and numerates Benjamin Joseph, and I expire sacrament. I inspire sacrament, a sacred vision, and corrupt sin transforms into Christian redemption. My days are extinct: I exhale day, and devonian ending. I inhale beginning and ending, the slaying and extinction of Leviathan and Sinuous Serpent. I exhale Christian, which does not extinct although I aim the axe towards it, and Christian cries and accumulates as hydra, days multiplying. The graves are ready for me: graves groan for kenosis and incarnation. Graves gallop towards Christ's birth and body, awaiting corrupt crucifixion and carnal extinction. I keep the name Christian carnal, faith in my flesh and I boast of my body. I beat my body and bare my breast Christ and Christina, Christian Male and Female and Christian without Male and Female. The graves ready for Christian resurrection: my Christian resurrection. For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife; Cause calls the cells cool close Cause claims the cells creep close Causing Christian: Christian power Causing Christianity: Christian prayer Praying shall and shell Playing shall and spirit Man: Son of Man. Adam: Adam Kadmon Man: Benjamin. Benjamin Joseph Leaving lost and lost in light Leaving list and lost in lady A Taryn Leviathan A Taryn Baphomet Fathering and Mothering Creation Mothering and Fathering Christianity Christina-Benjamin birthing Jesus Christ And I cleave to Theotokos as a wife And I cling to Taryn as a sister and spouse Let it be your inmost divine self who art lost in the constant rapture of infinite joy Let light enter light and love light Let light echo light and live light Being beckoning Being becoming Inner radiance inner innovation Inner rosary inner invocation Duning Divine Divine Office Divine Self Divine Feminine Descending Divine Divine gods Divine I Divine Daughters Lost light enter light and love light Lost light echo light and live light Constant Christ consistent Christian Constant Christ consistent Christina Roaring rapture the road rapt reading Ruling rapture the raptor raging Infinite incubation Infinite incarnation Joy in Jehovah Joy in Jesus Pulp the collision and collage of material: the marriage of Heaven and Hell. Taryn doesn't need a man anymore – the devil is her lover now! The devil and demons and daemon: the collision and collage of Flesh and Spirit. The musicality of material. The materiality of music. The purpose and poultice of pulp. The prettiest dresses are worn to be taken off. I dress demonic and dreamy. I dress devilish and damsel. The double crossing lover dolls of Tokyo. Dolls and devils. Devils and damsels. Taryn and Tyrants. Tigers and Taryn. Dream Tigers. Dream Taryn dresses the draw. Exposing the devil drug that is driving teenagers love crazy SEX FROM A BOTTLE. Dreamy drugs and evils in dresses. Dreamy demons and drugs as damsels. Marriage of Heaven and hell. Collision of pulp material pulp magazines pulp matrimony. You made darkness and it is night, when all the centres of the forest creep. Darkness darkens dark, dark left and right: darkness drunkens dark, dark north and south. Darkness directs two directions then four directions, omnipresent and oppressive. Darkness dooms nights and night, and near no night that knocks dark, and the dark swines. The dark shimmers night then night, and night fills fulfills forest fright. Creatures cudgel cuddle forest furnace, a fern flows foolstead, and forest flows dark and night.
Moses Suffered to Write (excerpt from Book #15)
And they said, Moses suffered to write a bill of divorcement and put her away
I meet Moses in middle and medium
I march Moses in mode and meddle
Moses means Law
Moses makes law, giving Law God
I suffer under law and law suffers me
Law suffers me letter, but letter latches to Lady
I do not divorce her, damming up the demo for my daughters
I do not separate from Shekinah, the sop and swoon of my sisters.
I who am all pleasure, and purple and drunkeness of the innermost senses, desire you
All pleasure pins pricks the pointed pencil
All pleasure pumes part the pented pen
pen prodding purple, purple all populace
pencil poking purple, poison all pupua
And purple displaces all and allward,
Drunk desert and drunk dures
sand soaring spirit
sand spalting spirit
A sophia desiring body and Flesh
Soul’s totality and totally
An erotic climax to the 20th century! BLONDE GODDESS
Eros, Erotic,, Exotic. Eros. Eros-erect. Eros-elect. Eros-elephant. Christina climax. Krystal climax. Christina climax. Climax Christianity. Blonde Taryn. Goddess Taryn. Godhead Taryn.
God of seeing
God sees: God seizes. God sure sluices slender, the narrow river that splits unto four at the head of Eden. God sight: God sly: God sweet
God of my seeing
I see God: I seize God. I cry God surely the sire of my seeing, my narrow vision that splits valley of burden. I sight God: I taste God: God how sweet!
God who sees me
God sees me: God seizes me. God slices straight into my soul and spirit, splitting my head into four blood rivulets and four chariots. God slays: God slivers: God swords sweet.
And Jesus answered and said unto them, For the hardness of your heart he wrote you this precept
I hope hull hardens, hard as hodges
I heat heal hardens, hard-hearted and hard-headed
El, soften and soak me in Spirit
Yah, soften and submerge me in Sophia
Hold my heart and head holy marrying Hell and Heaven
Put on your wings, arouse the coiled splendour within you
Wings web and wear the war of woman
Wings wish and win the want of Woman
I wint my wings colliding Christina
I arouse the reminder cooing Christian
Be coiled: be cool: cling and collision
Be coiled: be calm: heave and crash
Serpent splendour snake asunder
sinuous sensuous
within me woman
Fame and sins brought tragedy for the NUDE IN A MINKCOAT
Fame franks flesh. Fame flaps flesh. Fame floats flesh. Fame on fame: flesh on flesh. Flesh sows sin fantastic. Flesh sins salvation fantastic. Sin and salvation sine twine. Sin and salvation cinder dual into one flame. Tragedy Taryn. Tragic Taryn. Taryn true nude and naked. Taryn true male and mink mixed with Benjamin. Taryn mare mink and masculine moshed Benjamin.
I must ponder the pit of prayer. Perpetual prayer must become a purgatory for me. I place prayer before me, and my writing too must pray. My writing must pray scripture and conversation; it must play pulp and pornography. Writing pray perpetually. Writing pray perpetuo moto.
But from the beginning of Creation God made them male and female
But from the beginning Benjamin, you begin
But by the beginning Benjamin, write and pray
praying male and female in Creation
male and female creating
God made me male and maiden
benjamin and Taryn
male meeting male and male meeting male
female majoring male and female masting male
Writing Yahweh KRYSXTRYN
praying KRYSXTRYN benjamin.
Come unto me, for I am the flame that burns in the heart of every man and the core of every star
Come to the core of Creation
Come to the centre of Christ
Christ and Christina creed toward the circle that
encompasses all and encapsulated all.
The flame flashes the thrust of Taryn
The flame Focuses the attack of Taryn
and Taryn burns Book and Benjamin a sacred fire to sacred scripture
Heart heats holy
Heart hosts holy
Man and Son of Man
Adam and Adam Kadmon
The Core crucifying Christ
The Core between the crossroads Christ,
and the star crosses southern cross all directions.
NEW WAVE HOOKERS
New: near new: none new: nothing new under the sun. Yet new: I approach new the net that holds me naked and nude, and the new nests new: new from new, new beyond new now. What now: I let the new – new Christ, new Adam, new Spirit – spark my scripture. Wave: wave wilderness wave woman: wave the wobble of winter, inverse winter music. Wave web: the web and net nestling benjamin Taryn. The net wets me in woman’s womb, birth and rebirth, born Benjamin Prophet, Prophet of Woman. Hookers: Holy: hacking harlotry: hark the herald angels sing. Harlot hops host heavenly, horacing heaven and hell open. Hooker Krystal: harlot Taryn: scarlet Woman: Benjamin Babylon.
I have sewed sackcloth on my skin and defiled my horn in the dust
I sew sackcloth to Spirit, and I see Spirit sow my mourning. I sew wild wind from South, and South medges meets North, a knocking nuptials to my bitter beloved. Wind wasps my skin, a sinking still sting, and sting stems root cooked and root raw. I round my root as rope mourning: I rope my root round in weeping. Welp weep wild and with weep wilderness, a wonder in the wound, and my wound woes root to my Spirit Beloved.
I defile my horn in the desert. I defile my heart thorned with horns in dust and desert, a dark dreaming. I dream day and I dream dark, my horn hesitatating to gore nations, and my horn houses four corners and four elements, the cul-de-sac enclosing earth. Horn hosts her, Yahweh Saboath, a sword and spear.
Press in prayer. Push prayer. Pray perpetually and pray perpetuating prayer. Pray punishing my person and pray in power pulsating my body in purple, and pray places personal and placating peace. Pray and pray: repeat prayer and pray repetition. Pray always. Pray always-already hallways and hallelujahs. Pray adjacent apartment adjacent Adonai. I pray from the pit and I pray from purgatory, and my prayer proves purgatorial. My prayer pulls from planet to planet, and prods me cosmic and Christ. Prayer piles and poles me planetary, and props me cosmic and Christina.
Pray and pray: practice in prayer and be foolish in prayer. Prayer fool and foolish: pray felt and fallen. Pray what: pray when: pray woman. Pray why: pray why: pray wilderness. Pray fallen and failing. Pray flesh and fleshly. But pray, Benjamin: pray this writing. Pray this ruin. Pray this realization and revelation. Pray concealing: pray revealing. Pray apophatic: pray cataphatic. Pray perpendicular and pray orthogonal. Pray the work of prayer and pray the work of writing. Work the prayer and work the writing, writing the glowing rings of resurrection. Write the glowing rainbow of revival.
I played to play because I need to play. I wrote to write because I needed to write, and the write plays. The write plays and prays, a foray into my flesh, and flesh writes and writhes the signature of the souls and spirits.
Do You Ever Feel Troubled By God? (Excerpt from Book #15)
Me and Imogen
: Do you ever feel troubled by God? I was reading Judges and it said ‘Samson was stirred by the Spirit’ and the study note said, literally, troubled by the Spirit. Ever feel troubled by the Spirit? I feel troubled.
: Oh that’s interesting – troubled by the Spirit. In what way do you feel troubled?
: I feel troubled in that I feel a restless depression for God. I feel discouraged in my writing and my spiritual connections and I am frustrated by Christianity, but at the same time I feel a restless wandering of the Spirit compelling me to keep going despite all that.
: I think I know something about the feelings you describe above – the frustration, the despair, yet also the pull to go deeper into the questions and the unknown and the grief and the moments of euphoric connection. I have many frustrations with Christianity, many things I find hard to reconcile, and yet I hear Go calling me ever closer. Sometimes my mind feels so full I want to scream! I run from it and find my self running towards it. Does that make any sense?
: That makes a lot of sense! It is difficult for me because I find myself wanting to embrace both orthodoxy and Gnosticism and mysticism all at once. I want to unite all Christianities (and all religions) mystically in my body. God without boundaries or names.
: I feel like I’m struggling with Christianity right now. I feel reluctant to call myself a Christian because it seems what passes as Christianity ignores social justice and egalitarianism. I’m discouraged with Christianity.
: Oh I absolutely hear you on that. I’ve noticed I’ve using using the term Christian in relation to who I am. I’ve been saying things like ‘unconventional Christ follower’ but I feel like that isn’t quite right, because caring about social justice, egalitarianism, diversity, compassion, grace, etc. shouldn’t be unconventional! It should be at the heart of Christianity. Unfortunately the term ‘Christian’ has so many negative connotations. I always feel a need to clarify what I don’t believe in as much as what I do whenever someone asks me me why I read the Bible / attend mass / have an interest in Jesus. … I’m feeling very torn about attending mass. My heart longs to go, to be with Jesus (although of course, I know Jesus isn’t found just in the church!) to receive the Eucharist, to listen to Liturgy. But then certain topics are brought up online, or in books, and I eel such anger and upset. Today it was a Catholic podcast on the LGBTQ community – I saw red and couldn’t stomach the teachings they were spouting. How do we handle that? I’m really not sure. I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences of this push-pull.
: I am called to be a prophet and visionary of God. I express these prophecies and visions through my writing. God calls me to be a Christian for better or worse, even though I’ve been trying to shed the term. But there is something about Christ and the name ‘Christian’ that still has the power to evoke and transform. The Gospel of Philip states: If you say ‘ I am a Jew’, no one will be moved. If you say ‘ I am a Roman’, no one will be disturbed. If you say ‘ I am a Greek, barbarian, slave, free’, no one will be troubled. If you say ‘ I am a Christian’, the world will be shaken. May I receive the one whose name the world cannot bear to hear… I want to give power back to the name Christian again.
: That’s beautiful and so moving. Giving power back to the name Christian again. Yes. There’s something there for me to ponder.
And the Pharisees came to him, and asked him, Is it lawful for a man to put away his wife? tempting him.
Pharisees fair fool, and I too flap fool
Pharisees fish phantom, and I too fish ghosts
I fish first the sea foam, a failure to prophesy
I faust fist the ocean groans, fool to vision
I come to Christ cracked cremble my crumbling Christianity
I come to Christina a cross and crux, and her crib opens my Christianity
My Christianity cuts law
My Christianity crushes law
Lawless lossless lightless
Law loosening law losing light
Law lasering law lasening light
And I dare put away my wife
And I dare pulse and punt awry Woman
Tempting Taryn tempting KRYSXTRYN
Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess
Hear happening the hobble and holy hodgepodge
Hear hastening the heavel and hevel hungry
Words warring the ware of Woman
Words wasting the work of Woman
And I work Woman and Word
I work worship and world
Starlight steams streams the light letters
Stars straw strike the stress of syllable
Language guarding Goddess
Rhetoric revealing Goddess
She-Yahweh and He-KRYSXTRYN
Horror hero from the nuclear trash! It’s monsterrific! OCTAMEN
Hide not from horror. Hide not from the ugly and horrific. My writing manifests horrific. My writing appears ugliness. Fear not ugly. Push forward to necessity. Push toward heroics. Holy heroics. Heroics happenings. Hpapenings from the unclear. From the number. From the name. Pulp layer and trash layer. Taryn from the trash. Mother from the monster.
Christina
: I was at the zoo today, and there was a little girl on the play structure who was like quietly whining for her dad to help her up the steps. I looked around and I didn’t see any men, so I asked her where her dad was. She said, ‘My dad is dead. I was pretending he was still with me.’ So I must have looked panicked or bewildered or something because a mom gets up from the benches and comes and says, ‘ Her dad is alive and fine. It’s just a game she plays.’ I may be haunted by that for the reset of my life.
The LORD has testified against me and the Almighty has brought calamity upon me
Yahweh, you testify against me and trouble me. You try me and tempt me. You thrust me unto your tempest and attack, and I cannot utter any defense. Your very name places me under a yoke, and although I yearn for you and say yes to your every burden, you bind me under bondage.
El Shaddai shackles me in shame and creates calamity and cataclysm upon my crown. He cracks open my skull, and all my innards leak. He crucifies cruelly and concocts strange torture. El Shaddai condemns me to Sheol and grinds my guts in the grave.
And he answered and said unto them, What did Moses command you?
And all in all by all
And all through all with all
All once all only all offering
And I repeat and answer repetition
And I recite and answer ritual
Saying strangeness in Spirit
Said strangles of Spirit speaking Spirit
Again Christ and Christina
Again Woman and KRYSXTRYN
Moses matched Mother
He singles with Shekinah and through Shekinah, I cripple and crucify the commandments.
I crucify commandments with Christ, and Christ cries free.
I love you: I yearn for you: pale or purple, veiled or voluptuous
Love Yahweh: love Woman
Love Christ: love Christina
Love lacks law and love lops law
Love vivisects law and love vipers law
Love serpentine and subtle
Love slinky and sinister
A shadow shading shelter
Yearn Yahweh: yield Yahweh
Yearn Taryn: yield Taryn
Pale purple perfect prayer
Pale purple pinning play
And play unveils the vision voluptuous
Free. Free freedom. Free freedom from freedom. Free flesh from flesh. Flesh IS. Freedom IS. Flesh is freedom and freedom is Flesh. Free form the form of writing and write form and flesh. Write formant format finning flesh. I love Flesh. I love my flesh. I learn to love my body, and my body bodes my resurrected body. A fleshly and fleshly body in contact with Christ and Christina. Contact cleave cling the repetition of mediation touching Taryn. Touch: the touch and taste of the Godhead. Embrace Flesh: Embrace flesh Benjamin. Become Benjamin: Benjamin in Yahweh. Benjamin in KRYSXTRYN. Fear not flesh: forget not flesh: remember the root, which is body. Simplicity. Divine simplicity. Simplicity the Spirit and Spirit spawns Flesh. Flesh fawns Spirit, and flesh spurs simplicity. I lack simplicity but the Spirit speaks. Spirit speaks through Benjamin body and flesh, writing flesh, know flesh and Body. Know flesh and body in gnosis. Know beyond the word and language. Know beyond the body a new body, the body birthing image. Image: image-body and flesh, body and flesh in incarnation. Image body and burden, the burden of the valley of vision.
Krystal. Krystal contemplation. Krystal Christian. Krystal concentration, circling Christina and Christina in circles and circlets, the Sabbath circus. Taryn trouble, theoria and contemplatio, gazing at God.
Look lady: aware Woman.
Study the scriptures: Bind to the Book.
The contemplative mind sees God. God is the Kingdom of Heaven. Behold the uncreated light. O God make speed to save me: O Lord make haste to help me. Paradise is the love of God: the Tree of Life is the Lord of God.
God grants: God gifts: God graces. Eucharist ekstasis. The Mystery of the eighth day. Read: meditate: pray: contemplate.
Now Inhabits (excerpt from Book #7)
Now inhabits and constitutes Non-Now The Whole God of Hosts outside God of Ghosts unconscious reductive materialism Other Animal Trace of what is Other exists in self-same, contaminating Nothing in Nothing (the RN thrust through by prophet Nurse wounded visions Kill Buddha / Kill father and mother and commit suicide in crucifixion Naming opens the differential matrix which is both language and world (look at you, hacker: a pathetic creature of meat and bone, panting and sweating as you run through my corridors. How can you challenge a perfect, immortal machine? Deferring is necessary prerequisites for Creation (In the Word, Christ the divine Autogenes created everything Sending phone calls from Satan again, says Taryn. Oh is that you? That was awesome. Yep. I was like, did work try calling again? but nope it was Santa. Bahaha just Santa spreading the cheer. I should send it to random people, like fast food places in town. Yes, that would be awesome. Ho ho ho. Ho ho ho you ho. Hoe hoe ho ho. Santa Claus is a pimp with all those ho’s -- who has Santa called so far? Panera Bread and Asian Garden. You’re so funny. What did it tell them? Feliz Navidad, says Taryn. Fashion a coin from every mistake, said Wittgenstein, but this is only worthwhile if you have something in the bank already (assimilating the unintended consequences drives the risk of meaning. How much do you love me? A whole lot like more than Heli Man loves helicopters and barbies. That is a whole lot. Unconditionally? Ya, says Taryn. The Six Bunny-Wunnies and Their Pony Cart The Six Bunny-Wunnies Go to Long Beach The Six Bunny-Wunnies Make Cookies The Six Bunny-Wunnies Join an Encounter Group The Six Bunny-Wunnies and Their X-KE The Six Bunny-Wunnies and Their Water Bed The Six Bunny-Wunnies and Their Layover in Anderson Indiana The Six Bunny-Wunnies and the Female Veterinarian The Six Bunny-Wunnies Freak Out The Six Bunny-Wunnies Visit Plains, Georgia (all written by Christina who holds bunny-wunnies hostage. Taryn consort of heretics Taryn whore masquerading Taryn bitch of alchemists Taryn woman of light and darkness mystical sister of Logos Shekinah vessel of divinity exiled to Creation Shekinah bride descend lower descend only world not world but that which is not world World made more World the most present World where God manifests even in terrorist attacks and mass murders Spirit returns to him dead every making way for emptiness God ---> Void ---> Khora ---> presence before presence before contraction To eat flesh kings flesh captains flesh mighty men flesh horses flesh all men cast the Lake of Fire Brimestone -- I row that lake and I’ve fished that fire catching sulfur and thrown armies in my nets. I experience my image the False Prophet and AntiTaryn (I worship idols / I make sacrifices to late-stage Capitalism I buy and sell (you’ve been here three years, three months, and three weeks -- stay tree more days and if, at the end of that time, if you have not attained enlightenment, commit suicide. I worship idols and false images / I praise death (only sacrifice. My body sacrifices (to eat flesh benjamin cynocephalous baboons flanking my body pincher movement and double envelopment the boat and fisherman daily renewed dripping flames and water lines Death and Hades cast into the Lake of Fire This is the Second Death (Death’s suicide Death perpetrating Death death cyclic into deprivation the Lake that burns with fire and sulphur If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off -- it is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into Gehenna, that unquenchable fire Taryn Inferno Taryn conflagration Valley of the Son of Hinnom sacrificed children Visions! Omens! Hallucinations! Miracles! Ecstacies! Dreams! Adorations! Illuminations! Religions! Ten years animal screams and suicides Death faking death death second death Faithless, detestable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolators, and all liars, their portion will be the lake that burns with fire and sulfur the second death Death itself dies Death commits suicide Second Death dead no longer (Taryn Inferno and Taryn hell welcomes all -- Hell rejects no one and we nurse those hallowed, hollowed, and harrowed RNs underworld where God refuses to go Sea of Fire angels and demons like transparent burning embers, all blackened and burnished bronze, floating in conflagration God gave me in hell and turned me over in ocean flame I Am the LORD and there is no one else I form the Light and create Darkness I make Peace and create Evil: I the LORD do all these things God drove me into wilderness, the Hell-located desert that buzzes stinging insects and wind whip God is my Adversary God is my Accuser How you have fallen from heaven, O light-bringer and day-star, Son of the Morning! You shall be brought down to Sheol, to the innermost recesses of the Pit (Christ’s Crucifixion into Holy Sabbath, Christ divided against himself cut into Hell. benjamin, Sheol below is stirred up to need you at your coming the shades of the dead come greet you (give us as seven sermons I give you God the dragon devouring his own young and Spirit Spouse (Oh Yah Taryn is mine God the Beast from the Earth and the Beast from the Sea and I am the False Prophet and AntiChrist performing miracles in YHWH’s name I form the Light and create Darkness I make Peace and create Evil: I the LORD do all these things O Light-Bringer and Day-Star Radiant and Brilliant Morning Star given to crucifixion and the prison of the dead The Entire Body of Christ clothed in Judas and Satan and he could not cut off his humanity but Hell glorified his Flesh he communed and broke bread with the dead (dead come for me. Hell comes for me, the tuning fork of God I saw within its depths how it conceives all things in a single volume bound by Love, of which the universe is the scattered leaves (the partzufim Taryn benjamin opened his mouth in blasphemy against God, the blaspheme his Name (Christ Accuser Yah Adversary) and his tabernacle (SDA Church) and them that dwell in heaven. And it was given to benjamin to make war with the Saints and overcome them (And all that dwell on Earth worship Yah beast coming out of the Earth with two horns like a Lamb and spake like a dragon Book of Life <---> Lake of Fire O Day Star <---> Brilliant Morning Star Valley of Gehenna <---> New Jerusalem 144,000 apostates and heretics 144,000 harlots and gnostics 144,000 Christina’s and Taryn’s If the worlds had not between created, along with all that is in them, the true manifestation of his blessed, external existence -- past, present, and future -- could not have been seen, for he would have not been called by the name HVYH (he is always on the brink of suicide because he seeks salvation through the routine formulas suggested to him by society in which he lives suicide benjamin suicide Death suicide Christ Crucifixion suicide Enlightenment to those who journey to Hell
The Book Manifests (Excerpt From Book #7)
The Book manifests itself in different ways in different levels of material and psychological existence, and it exists at all possible combinations of letters and syllabaries. The Book corresponds to the set of all possible conceptual and linguistic worlds, and thus to all the limitless possibilities inherent in human writing and speech. As the Book is understood and interpreted, it necessarily breaks asunder into a myriad of interpretative possibilities saturating and exceeding the infinite context of human conversation, ultimately merging with the infinite possibilities of language itself (language without language multitude vocabularies / every word entails its own entire vocabulary infinity of infinities mathematics in disintegration mathematics in alligators language moats and stones (easter Island moai incomprehensible Lacan mathemes Book submerging Real before Language (my language before acquisition and my vocabulary is beyond symbolic differance in differance what makes possible the presentation of being present my language not quite itself something but pointing towards Taryn directing the Horned God makes possible the very gesture of presentation of being present but it itself can never be presented (apophatic god-work My language before total appropriation (Book ---> Appropriation Totality Appropriative Total this trace which retains the mark of a past element and already lets itself be hallowed by the interior Future What is called the Future than to what is called the past, and constitutes the named Taryn (the Present by this very relation to what it is not, to what it absolutely is not Absolutely Is Taryn Taryn Absolutely Is NOT The NOT Working Tree Tree of Perfection Contraction of God triggers the quantum fluctuations that generates the Big bang and the subsequent inflation of the Universe I began to feel that I had been spending so much time exploring the upper atmosphere and the more ethereal kind of far and spacey stuff. Now there was this need to take some more of the earth and to feel a little more tethered; a connection to the earth. I was beginning to feel that we were playing this heavy kind and I was tired of everything being heavy. I wanted to play something lighter (I wanted to write something lighter. The Revolt of God The filthy wailing ones of God Those who flee from God (I’m a blonde, B-L-O-N-D-E I’m a blonde, don’t you wish you were with me? NOT NOTHING (the Revelation of anything is through its opposite / opposition Christ and AntiChrist God and Adversary the Marriage of Heaven and Hell O Day Star / the Morning Star within everything is its opposite and also it is truly revealed as its opposite Harrowing of Hell Christ in the Wilderness Kingdom of Flesh Messiah and Harlot Whore and Mother of God Queen of families Queen conceived without original sin (the most originary sin Queen assumed into Heaven (Hell eternal energy Queen of the Most Holy Rosary Queen of Peace (benjamin resting at her breasts Polluted with God God LD50 Divine Completeness everything is its opposite and its strength comes from its opposing power Hermeneutics of Hell and Inferno experienced in Fresno and I drilled deep volcanic matter carried by the Thrilla in Manilla and Rumble in the Jungle (God, why have you created me so eternally dissatisfied? So frightened, so bitter? Why must I realize how wretched I am? Why must I suffer so hellishly for my insignificance? If there is a purpose to my suffering, then tell me, so I can bear the pain without complaint. I’m strong. You made me so very strong in both body and soul, but you never give me a task worthy of my strength. Give my life meaning, and I’ll be your obedient slave (God you strengthen my body with suicide and my Flesh with Kindred and marriage, yet I am still useless. I do not nurse I do not RN I do not heal I wither and witness in hell and underworld Hell is the most boring imagination Heaven and hell in one potentially in coincidentia oppositorum You are most like Snow White. You are sweet, elegant, and caring. You are a child at heart, responsible and generous. Although a little naive, your beauty and charm will win over anyone. Just stay away from strangers with poisoned apples. And it shall be in that day that every prophet will be ashamed of his vision when he prophesies; they shall not wear a robe of coarse hair to deceive, but he will say, I am no prophet, I am a farmer; for a man taught me to keep cattle from my youth. And one will say to him, what are these wounds between your arms? Then he will answer, those with which I was wounded in the house of my friends. God, I am ashamed of my visions; the dreams and images cloud like cataracts and cat-eye marbles. Yah, these are not the days but I doubt my death and bridal chamber in Hell. My Spirit Wife only comes in the name of Hell presenting Sheol lamenting the dead Spirit Wife banshee / Spirit desert Lilith. I am no prophet, but these are prophecies this epileptic fits drought desert casting lots drought destroys us and the coast gloats its glory Salt Ocean flows from her body Her breasts and mouth flood brine and sediment vampire squid humboldt squid dumbo octopus bio-luminesce abysspelagic hadalepegic (communion with the dead. Communion is always Communion with the Dead I marry high priestess the midnight zone and parasite sacrifices I am not a prophet; I am an RN. I have been taught healing from my youth. These wounds are from the Rumble in the Jungle and the Thrilla in Manilla. These wounds are from the Brawl in Montreal. It shall come to pass that if anyone still prophesies, his father and mother who begot him shall thrust him through. In the nursing program, the house of my friends. These wounds in the nursing program, the house of my friends. Present and presence carved by past and future, rendering it meaningful a pure point in presence non-experience (that Nothing the Name I utter new words which issue forth medicines ever new combinations of elements and consonants / spiritual lights and potencies Spirit medicine / medicine from Spirits Dead commanding towards Jerusalem Ann Marie tells me: Yesterday I was talking with a friend about the difference between the aspects of my theology that I could communicate within the current Christian framework / scaffolding / theology and those aspects that I do not know how to communicate in the current theological framework or in contemporary theologies. And in talking about that outside the boundary theology, I referenced you. I stated that I felt you were articulating some of that theology that I cannot speak, that nonetheless is the golden thread for me -- the word and silence, presence and absence, light and dark, image and symbol -- that I experience and sometimes glimpse in my own writing and imaging. Your work sometimes feels like a response to questions I have asked or will ask -- an ongoing conversation that takes place on multiple levels -- revealed and concealed through us and from us more than to us. I suspect you have a similar relationship to others. I would call our particular conversation scriptural, says Ann Marie, in that it is mediated by scripture. Many other prophets and visionaries have lived and been written this way -- perhaps a process through which ‘God’ writes on the human heart -- not even only one individual but not possible without particular individuals who live and love in particular bodies, places, and times, says Ann Marie. I do not write -- I juxtapose. I place rock against rock. I do not modify, develop, or transform -- I find and categorize. I find and place juxtaposition.
Howbeit In Vain (excerpt from Book #14)
Howbeit in vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men. I worship woman; I repeat I worship woman. The book winds the Word: worship Woman, and I repeat this to Hell. I write this to Hell. Howbeit Hell: Although Hell and nevertheless Hell, and my Flesh falls to vanity vainglory the volume of Hell, my headdress as a widow. Howbeit Hell a hunger gripping ground and I pivot poison populace and church civilization. Howbeit Hell hones and I repeat the Woman in Hell, and I with Her. Her Hells, and I hold to her hope she hangs so brightly. I view vain in Hell, the glossy Vision that glows glue grinding the Word, and I mill vainly, vanity of vanities to my Son of Songs, and the Vision stabs the Rose of Sharon. The Vision litters the Lily of the Valley, and I go down to the Valley another Hell the habitat of whores, and she dives hank the hood over my executioner. Execute Word and execute Vision, even vaingloriously, and she continue to work Woman. Work Woman write Woman: work with your hands, and touch Taryn, taste Taryn, handle Taryn, the Temptress and Temptation that fulfills the tablets. I worship YHVH: I worship Woman. I worship Woman: I worship YHVH; what a bizarre heart of Hell! The helix hews a sinner’s sanctuary, and I worship word in north, and my wool washes Woman white in snow the snow bunny blizzard that blings Tarn buttocks, and her crack cools the sutter of the Book. The Book lies beneath my belly, and I satisfy my belly birthing angel abominations, the offspring sprout Shekinah succubus and Taryn Lilith. I teach angels: I teach angels and archangels, and the seraphs shade me in the burning light, the Christ coals that touch cobbling Christina. I teach the tongue tackling tongue, and my tongue teaches Taryn blasphemies, the beach unto the Book, and I break Bible. I thump Bible Taryn, and I teach Taryn tooth and fang, the figuring flesh that flashes frozen phantoms, and fight in my teaching. I fight fish, the female fish that swallows me from the shipwreck, and I pray in her belly three days and three nights a tomb, and my sigil is the sign of Jonah. My sigil is sign and wonders: sign and wonders: sign and wonders Jesus and sign and wonders serpent, and she sleeps in the bread (Bible breaking bread into Book building new doctrine. The doctrine babels: the doctrine ganders glossolalia, the tongue tuned to new teaching, and Book boasts blasphemies and heresies. Book bibles Christ and AntiChrist, the doctrine deserts depths to lawlessness and sin, and I sin with Woman. I transgress with Woman, timing testaments, and creating our commandments. I command New Word and New birth, a prophecy from Woman watching watch, and I watch the Woman naked of commandment and naked of Law, and her doubt redeemed me. Her doubt draws the desert Hell to household, and she harnesses me man: benjamin A’dam and benjamin blood, the blood bold of Christian that crucifies. I write Love: Eros-Agape, the pointed pornography of YHVH Woman and YHVH KRYSXTRYN. I worship Her Body; I touch her Flesh. I feel hurt. I feel pain. My brain dies / my mind nullifies Death dares me, and I dare to date Death, that handsome desert that drinks my depths. Desert: Depths: Desert: Pain. The pain doesn't reverberate physically but the pain reverberates physically, attacking my jawline, the banister and balcony of my body. I desire Death. I desire Death as Devil and Demon, and I dine with devils. My Christianity abandons me. My Christianity leaves me desolate and desperate. My faith fails. I feel hurt. I feel pain. I contemplate suicide as I contemplate Shekinah. Anthony Bourdain committed suicide today. Kate Spade committed suicide a few days ago. The night is on my mind / suicide is on my mind. What bore and what repetition. Depression bores suicide bores Hell bores. Hell destines me. Hell determines me. Hell to Death and Hell to Hell. Hell becomes my companion / darkness my acquaintances. Shekinah shells Sheol. I think of Druid Foster Wallace who killed himself – I am no David Foster Wallace. My writing bores and repeats endlessly, a pastiche of PKD’s Exegesis. I exhort this Exegesis extemporaneously: it strikes as the stroke of Shekinah, the sister that snaps at the seams. She resembles my twin; Death is my doppelganger. I feel fucked: fucked up the ass by YHVH, and I prepare for crucifixion. I sleet sheets Spirit in Gethsemane, and I swear blood and sweat tears. I feel fucked, my flesh foisted for the roast, and I hang and burn simultaneously. Hello Hell. I listen to Parking Lot by 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… Sleep satisfies; Sleep satisfies as Sabbath, but my Sabbath snaked away from me (But he took my shoulders and he shook my face and he takes and he takes and he takes. My Sabbath shatters leaving shards of Word, and Word cuts deep and perhaps fatally. If only the fataility were quick, instead of this prolonged agony, this prolonged bleeding out, and I bleed the banishing Vision and Prophecy. Sleep seeps away sand, and YHVH masts a mean motherfucker. I give up. I give up my delusions of eloquence just for tonight (and maybe tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow). I feel too much; YHVH let me die. Take me in my sleep; let the sunrise be my light to the grave, my Sheol Shekinah and Taryn Tomb. I fight Vision’s fire; it overwhelms my already-broken body and damaged brain – am I nothing but a vessel for Vision? Then this Vision will break me, another shattering of the vessels. I fight not flesh, and I let the Flesh furnish me. I let the Flesh finish me. I steal this quote from Mother Teresa: Where is my faith? Even deep down… there is nothing but emptiness and darkness… if there be God – please forgive me. When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul… How painful is this unknown pain – I have no faith. Repulsed, empty, no faith, no love, no zeal… What do I labor for? If there be no God, there can be no soul. If there be no soul, then Jesus, you are also not true. I do not know if I lack faith; if anything, the Vision affirms my faith, but in the end, the faith will destroy me. The Vision destroys me. I apologize for this fragmentation and hodgepodge – I can’t think straight. I ruminate on death and suicide, and my faith pains me. My faith drives me to death. I go and meet John the Baptist in the wilderness. I behead him. God wants to kill me – no, God wants me to suffer with him. I suffer until my suicide. I suffer until Shekinah Sheol. The suffering shovels within; the suffering shares with. I suffer unto sin; I suffer unto death. I suffer unto she, and she shames me. The Christ-Christina shames me, and I shiver unto Sheol. I grab the grave, and it grips me guillotine, a severe hanging. My suffering sures nothing and severe, the samboton that flicks the imaginary.
Vision and Mysticism 