Epigram

It is no easy thing,
when cannibal is king,
to burn the dead
and fires red
around them ring.

I Lost

You are all your fingers in my hair,
my curly cap, my darkling dancer,
you are your weight against my thighs.
You are quick, cool breaths against my brows.
You are little lines on my pages,
my America, my new found land.

what masks we wear

you hear my shouting

sibylline and sibilant

made of moving things

we fought, we fight

and still will fight

but death is gone

from our fingers

and hell from our hands

see, see, the cutless

knives

pierced and punctured

lacerated

ragged, raging

broken in splendor

we are the gods

of the underworld

the soiled divinities

olympus in the slums

Vivat Rex

I. I want to wallow for a while.

To wait, to wade, and wander in this

dead man's place a while yet.

But the thumb of God is on

my chest, and the forefinger

of God is at my spine and,

Oh!, how he presses.

II. There is no conscience in

California, no dread of great

moving things, no iron in

its soul. I was made for

colder things and colder questions.

Have you fire? Have you 

furs? Have you flint?

III. "She is all states, and all

princes, I." But that is

a ghost too costly for

the keeping. Bid farewell,

farewell. Princes now

are out of fashion, and so

it seems am I.

IV. My eyes are stupid in these

hours. More streetlights when I 

would rather have the dark. 

The burn scar on my hand is 

faintly shining. I took it on the 

sinister side, and something in that 

is fitting.

Burn and Blister

Still it moves,
Still he grows.

Behold, thou art the
Very image of th' Antichrist.

Most abject shame,
Most utter shame.

The welfare of the city
Where you were once a sojourner.

Seven hills and seven horses,
And seven swords in seven hands.

Not even the earth is still,
It trembles in his grasp.


All things new,
All things new.

Blood will have its blood in turn
As each cries out to each.

Shall the judge of all the earth do wrong?
Who told you, viper, when to flee?

Thou art a villain.
Thanks, and thee.

Let us die upon our knees,
So ends this catechism.

What is the meaning of this dream?
Mourn for holy Russia.

You approach me like the rugged bear,
But will not grant me footing.

All men seek the good.
Thou art blind, old man.

Profundis (oder, Die Wale, Die Der HERR Machte)

Rest not easy, brothers, but

whet the spears and raise

the lances, for the times are

violent and the violent take them

See, see the shining wake!

Wouldst think the deep were hoary

Attend! The sword of heaven

comes now to slay the dragon

that is in the sea 

To slay the dragon

that is in the sea

with his scales

like shields and

his rush like lightning,

be not weary, brothers,

but wash your hooks

in oil and earth and let

your fingers know the spear

The LORD is a man of war,

and YHWH is his name

Agonistes

I know you in my splintered bones-
they burn, they split, they ache.
I have seen you in the mirrored sky,
everywhere near and always distant
(so everywhere mediated as to be
immediate in all things, so everywhere
immediate as to be in all things mediated).

The fathers have not understood
their sons, and the sons have not
loved their fathers. But I am
my father's son.

All things weary, all things die,
all things tend toward dissolution.

When he gathers to himself his spirit
all flesh dies together. But I am
my father's son.