A proposed anthology of free verse.
I
speak of going beyond a certain time, a train of events
which have arisen out of circumstances quite foreign to
corporeal ailments. I touch upon themes of body, death,
memory, and love – the corporality of the celestial – to
seek that which possesses or obsesses the mind, and can
exert power transmitted through the motive and sentient
spinal nerves, here occasioning a little smarting of the
eyes.
This measure of time contains the
remains of those substances which existed in the world,
and can be remembered as past, or imagined on some other
occasion, where the mind does not regain its balance. And
it must be some fatal error that causes a rapid descent
– love must fall upon someone deprived of all
salutary control or the memory of a life that was
calculated to exist in heaven.
- Calcitrare
in testiculis
It may be taken for granted that there is no
honourable way out of the most atrocious poetry called
‘contemporary’. There appears a most deplorable union
of publishers (litty-fiddlers) and everyday banality,
and after this customary stupefaction no robbery,
murder, or other heinous crime is too good for them.
We are all men of strange truth, and we recognise it as
such.
Selection:
GOD'S OWN WILL
There is particular
difficulty in the notion
Of an external world
and the consequent unreality
of things: such is the
beauty of a clock work.
We have no proof of
spontaneous generation,
And cannot conceive of
it as so existing –
The better able to
resist the constraints
Of supernatural
appearances which tend quickly
To undergo a slight
molecular change,
Sometimes very
remarkably.
The science of pure
time unfolds.
The body trembles.
I have prebreathed the
vital air,
And in this condition
erections easily occur.
All things are either
dead or alive.
For this reason, I have
lingered over time.
It is a deception and
bears a slight resemblance
To friendship or love,
the abstract ideas
of things not readily
or vividly recalled.
The rise and progress
of them in conception
Is now apparent. Then
arises the necessity for a wish.
But they (who have a
yearning) are slow to feel,
And, by chance
irritation, crawl upon another animal
And expend themselves
physically on the phenomena of nature.
There are rules common
to every scheme of predestination,
And being satisfied of
its entire and perfect necessity,
I am struck with the
feeling of recognition,
The very great proof of
life.
BODY
Neatly arranged in line
and look, a little ball of clay
drawn down by
celestial, differed so far in shape and bloom
In all kinds of heat,
ready to animate the sparkling eye,
Gilded inside, colour
light pink. The ground of all its glory,
Becoming fuller, and
softer, in sympathy with the womb:
More open and
spacious, and bleeds when pricked.
Not a drop extracted,
though blaze with azure and emerald.
More strange than any
other motions, ovarian and spinal,
Seminated as garnet,
descending deeply, driven
By a momentary impulse,
looselybut symmetrically,
Force conceived to act
as to produce a deadly artifice.
No pain, no
respiration. None would be blessed.
No rain falls between
her thighs.
The skin of the blonde
stroked with a feather,
Before midnight, when
lying down.
THE SLEEP OF PLANTS
The instrument touches
the foreign body, shining and glabrous,
Deeply immersed in the
fleshy placenta. Organs of reproduction adhere
Near the orifice
marked with a blood-red spot. Fleshy garments would first
illumine,
Bronzy green most
brilliant on the budding fronds, and all nerved uppermost,
Villous and silvery,
quickly to divert them whose stamina is tender.
But only those that
are the subjects of experiment will show
That sensation reveals
nothing. The living body requires a longer interval
Between the acts of
sexual gratification. Sperm introduced into the generative
passages
Will often bring away
clods of blood, and hydrocyanic juice dropped into the eye
Of a dog will loosen
the belly and inflame internal wounds. The nerve divided
high up
In the arm would not
fail to produce more frequent outgoings of the spirit,
Confirming the
observation previously made – that the only sensation
Is that of a flash of
light. Evidence of life is found. Sleep has become
necessary,
And will gradually
become more.
HANG-MONDAY
A sovereign lord, like
a tender passion, so sweetly beguiling,
And knows no bodily
shape, but like a sudden light of joy
And recognition,
affording a temporary union, as might be expected,
With the human soul. A
long-desired voice, how beautiful it is!
An ethereal medium
pervading all space, a truth evidently revealed.
He shall not appear in
his whole body, a luminous figure that breathed
A deep nature, spirited
away, half turned, merely visible to the naked eye,
Still living, preceded
by a sensation, the same light of revelation.
The talk is
straightaway of babes that loved each other dear.
By alteration of things
that remain, every perfect gift from above
Is continual and
uninterrupted. She is discovered on Hang-Monday,
And heard in the
adjoining room, which properly signifies hell.
THE TRANSIENT
VISITANT
Here is the rooted vine
planted out in the low pits,
Not infested, not
observable of any sexual form of multiplication.
The object drawn by eye
has no breadth of being:
I declare things
enabled, no sex discovered
In the extremity of the
abdomen,
No foetal heart heard.
Every incipient dread
shall be revealed.
All else is fume.
The transient, only
like moving shapes, to be imagined
And not allowed to
waken. And if they are deformed
and suck upon the
breast, they will go backand recall no other life.
The spirits who living
entirely upon dreams, seem to be gathered,
That we may suspect the
existence of another child.
OVA
Before the human female
appeared, perfumed with sweet things,
The last metamorphosis
(so often before named as resurrection) took place:
A being existing here
only temporarily, a vestige of terrestrial breath
So far withdrawn from
original nature, seeking the place below,
But still subservient
to human pleasures, to those above, and to the divine.
The creature has the
characteristics of both sexes – nebulae and rare –
And gives origin to the
female organ, the nature of flowers, and the everlasting
Semen upon the
prolific earth. The worms and brutes sing praises to God,
And the creature having
leisure takes an interest in itself,
And demandsparticular
attention, and is not at all perplexed
By the amatory life;
which by a kind of habit produce ova.
Heaven might appear the
more transcendent, coalescing soft, rather rare –
A smooth-faced animal
of a very promising appearance equal to that
Of the finest classic
outline. Yet the unchanging picture is a visionary dream,
An involuntary act that
constitutes infinity.
What the female furnishes
Is not thus alive,
except by accident, and is essentially immortal.
FROM HEAVEN
Spirit of the air, who
dies faintly away, there is scarcely a memory.
No bond of association
required in the first movement to take away
A part from the rest,
to draw the breath that goes out of the womb
And only admits of
momentary duration. A change of habit,
As if unconscious:
dresses dreaming, and made perfect as the first day.
The husky skin touched
with the naked hand, hair curling beautifully.
An unblemished revival
passed over time, and would pass through space –
A single shock, pressed
into the opening, excited and moved by itself,
A slightly luminous
flame that came from heaven.
IMMORTAL
Now the whole mystery
revealed to me, unknowingly
Yet surely, passing
from death to life on the new earth.
The apparition waking
out of sleep – gold and silver –
The spinneret on the
soft membrane, the drop hanging below,
First called a
chrysalis, laid singularly upon the human frame.
Loose hair and skin
covered with a piece of muslin;
The life carried away,
swept into the open extremity.
And from the
all-pervading law seen then to return
Void of all perceptible
heat – the arms wide open,
Close the fingers up,
and so I made a thought endowed
With endless life. And
from the mere organism of matter
Reduced to immortality
– “You are that boy,”
And slipped my hand
away.