Thursday, January 05, 2006

Prayers Not Yet

I. “Everything is moving me up”

Is not yet an angel
Is an angel
Not yet
To forget what time isn’t
What musn’t
Be again
Fatefully our immanence
Our innocence
The tents
Of neutral voice into which

On our soft watch
We intuit
What gravity won’t heed
Nor heal
On our soft watch
We invisibly see
Those miles of forced wildness
What grace
Gravity won’t
Be heir to
What storming what hearing
And promised voice

Not of their imperial knack
We seek in trembling lack
Stock branches a trembling
Night for the voice an ear
To accompany a voiding air
Eye breeze and not snow no longer
Trembling branches as such

This time of year to continue with
Our name not yet an angel-name-event
In situ redemptions frozen into
Face retreated from glory grace

Not saved again to
The power two
To the one two
Effulgent percept
Fragrant cinematics
And invisibles

The guilt of our innocence
Guilt of our excess guilt
Of our individuation guilt
Of our ignorance to the power of two
Misidentified in a penitent pose

Pose adepts not this dance again
Exegesis Corbin not yet to clock Descartes’s Plato
To move the motion
Pictures up
To move infinite
Only poetry finds an
Angel again to move in perfect motion
Name not yet an image

Not yet an event supplicant in dance
This infinite dance to not continue
Without woe
Invisibly to continue
In this infinitely not contingent must
Is a surpassed world
Your pretended body

Is the voice trembling
In the dark is not
The voice is not anyone’s
In particular
Is no body
Obscuring a punctured
And punctual light
It is to suddenly be

II. For the Cycles

Where space begins suddenly
In time and presupposes our love
For the worlds (the world) what image will you
Will one make
So neutral to think
The voice
A delay shapes

Delayed shapes suddenly here
And not here
Not yet to shore
The body up
Not the erotic
Mind you occult
By drinking up ink
A scholastic problem of love

Delaying future shapes
Of a certain bow
Of an angel struggling
In potentia with
A certain bow
Circular to sing

The inside before his breath is done
Before light light falsely
Catches up

A retard
To light
Catches up
To words
An allegory of their fall

And not a fall
From light evening light

Night / Light
Not a fall

As light so literal
An angel in actuality
Kept by its words

III. The Presentable, for Nancy Spero

So withdrawn
Their words as
As such this
Time of year (every time
Of year
And for the general)
For the particular
Pictures of
Copters are
For the destroying
The destroyed
Women paint
Art must exist
To produce knowledge.

We speak soliloquies
Our prayers
And apostrophes
Of the one
For the two
The one and one
Not making
Merely two (Creeley)
Not equal
In numericity
Our daily voices
Our images
Of the voice nations are
(his Later numbers).

Nancy Spero
For what
We see and
Don’t see
The blood for
The trees
The dark
Of lovers for what
We see to not see
The dark
Of bodies
In pain
Ruptures from
Torturously must be


To move for all
In perfect motion culture
Of our fall
And our repeated
Resurrections, who
Will forgive
The fallen-risen
Who shelter ink and image

Those who flock
Those who kill
Of the one for
The two
The two
Of forgetting
Those who flock
Those who will
The graphics of a cloud
Loving only the difference

A different delay
Her body
Of letters and
Her body of substance
Circling the onus
Of time
Her material
Body the retard
Of perfect naming

And suddenly
Shudder shiver
For the one (the One)
Of value
Eternal are the
Of flux in this
Dance, perfect
Image of our regard

Is to partake
Of images
Of which
To partake
Of the body
Of the soul hiding

V. Coda (Prayer Wheel)

Devoid delaying
Lacrimose injunction
Imageless motion
More than branch

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