what we hide under our veins

BOOK IV
THE DIFFERENCE IN ELECTRIC LIGHT

what we hide under our veins


53

what does life know about
the stone
that the water stumbles on
the water that falls from the top
water that falls on the gaze
water that falls on the imagination

what does the shaft know of the arrowhead?
what does the flame know of the flint and the flintstick?
what does time know of death?
what does reality know of the flowers of chance?

what do we know?
with our sleeves
covering the truth
life flowing like boiling water
life-magma, life-heart
that which pulses with the seeds
of the above
of indifference to the order of things

what do we know? who knows?
we are just random strangers
met together in one big desert
our Spirit, our Flame is no more
than a charcoal from a Giant's stomping fire
and life...
oh, life is but wine, finished after my father


54

it's the weapon that wins, not the truth
strength is more important than respect
glitter over the oriole

sutra over the scarlet hill
To tame the Beast within
silence lies beneath your feet

that which is dearest of all
That which leads the pulse
pinked wrists in the bathtub

insect showers
kick the Infante out of my head
the wrath of water, the Year of Cataclysm

confess to the stream
searching for meaningless excuses
servant by the sea, a ruined city

avoid patrols and love
Death above all
Time knows no pity

Five poetic foundations
five rings, five bracelets
five circles, the other 4 are DLC

being a monk, cleaning the temple
from the autumn leaves, drowning in unbelief
God knows no need for anything

light at the tip of a lantern
reach for the moth
sun in hand, ecstasy

disappear in the embrace of darkness
when the Others slaughter the stars
when they run out of cigarettes and philosophy


55

sublimation of silence in the dead
in their hearts frozen ambers

comprehending a scream in the wilderness
seeing off at the end of the night

vultures circling over the abyss
over the ruins, over the death of music

the battle is doomed to grief
on one side are the songs, on the other the cries

the clouds won't help us
black orchids will bloom over the bodies


56

when they go to sundown
it's customary to remember
we must close all the doors
forget the constellations, shut the windows
the windows, listen to the lines
that slit the sky
and never, you hear
never look behind Buddha's back

what are you hiding there? what are we
beneath the sleeves and skin?
what doesn't come out unless
if you don't push hard

no, not that which already exists
no blood, no tears
but something much more complicated
that is conceived as an idea
but not embodied by Reason
and that's the only reason, I think
that it's still in us
and we have a chance to transcend

transcendia, oh, take
me to the streetcar stop
I'm gonna take the last ride
and out to the end of the sweet suicide belt