Songs of the One-eyed Cat
Of Roses Nightingales and Persian Cats
The one eyed cat recites the Qu'ran
singing as no nightingale has ever sung
to a rose only he remembers
whose beauty haunts him
in frankincense and myrrh
in gregorian blues
the summons to the crossroads
to sign the black book
Saint Robert Johnson
Pray for all lovers
and all night pacts
written in blood.
(2 words that slide and clump
like snake and carthorse)
the one-eyed cat wonders
about origin and function
where does he come from?
what does he do?
It is a mystery
of back alleys and doorways
of seeing in shadow
the crucified Bride
the broken china cup
the shapeshifting puissant Graal
feed my sheep someone said
not understanding their wild and bitter nature
(thank you we can feed ourselves)
the cat thinks he knows something about feeding
and hunger and losing
that he never tries
to hold and keep
Valentinus saint of the day
healed his jailer's daughter
opened her eyes
and left her a note
of open eyed love from
Open your eyes
get out of jail
whatever way you can
and leave behind
the note of love
the one eyed cat tries this
but is distracted by an itch
decides to sing the blues
same thing really!
The one-eyed cat
sits and prays
climbs the Tree branch by branch
chasing the Angel
It's his favourite sport
can cheat and fly away
the cat knows
how to be
from the trembling point
source of the All
to the back stage
where scenery and roles
lie in heaps
but he is most at home
city of pyramids, winged bulls and Throne
reached by candle flame
where the Holy Creatures
go there and back again
there he sits and waits
watching by the angel hole
faster than the lightning flash
quicker than a bee
The one eyed cat walked out last night
Prowled round alleys and old stones
Looking for babylon
In old jerusalem
Not easy this
Even here too much brightness
dairy diners kosher ice cream
fur hatted fedora black suited
Loud prayer noise, clanging bells, recorded prayer calls
drown the silent whisper that opens the way
turn this way and that to an edge place
An old stone arch bending in four ways
gateway to the garden
like a nut
worlds within worlds
around a tree now oak, olive, orange and palm
a candle glimpsed in a window
Old dead kabbalist prays
and angels come from babylon
a twist and turn
sufi dances in the tree
holds the cup and speaks
the name of love
the monk adores
crucified on Mary's breast
Or is it
crucified in us
our mother, lover Babylon.
Jerusalem leans together
creating impossible angles
stairs and ladders into nutgardens
Histories are kept alive in recitation
babel tongued liturgies renact
Old woes and wars
And gods are called to witness and avenge
The cat wonders about this
Follows a tourist group
With red hats and namebadges
Lest they forget their names
And who they're with.
He wishes tourists remembrance
and priests forgetting
and welcomes them
to shabbat in Babylon
Let the Night cover all
While Laylah sings.
With deep remembrance we
Forget ourselves in Her.
On Shabbat eve the one-eyed cat bounced
No work today even before
the day of rest written
in blood and bone and stuff of stars.
bounces 'cross the city, climbs up King George
steep and puffy like the man
slides down ben yehuda
like a blues geetar on the road to hell,
has coffee listens to
Miles Davis being kind of blue
As old trumpeter makes sweet melancholy love
To all of us.
Further on Tamla lives again
"Jimmy Mac when are you coming back?"
The cat doesn't know but bets its soon
Too beautiful she to be left alone- for long.
On to Pomeranz ha Melech
Of bookstores the unrivaled lord
seeks out learned tomes of lore and law
But buys Songs of the Dove
Lovesongs to the Shulamite
Is black and comely
and runs through the city
Seeking; Longing; Burning;
kings and shepherds fall
at her feet
the cat falls too
But does not rise
The one-eyed cat visits Isaac the Blind
The cat sits before candle's flame
Repeating the Name of names
Four worlds unfold- springing, constant action of ball against wall
To flowing form, to the thousand nights and one
The countless dancing layla wa laylas
Opening treasure stores and nut gardens
Which show us the way to
The Spring and the Tree, the flame and the pool, the candle of night and the mirrored womb,
At the centre Isaac blind kabbalist sits
beyond B'reshit the blessed beginning
Isaac and cat sit- the blind and half-blind
Who is it who sees?
Who is seen?
The cat sees the Kabbalist
Brighter than noon
binding all in threads of prayer
Is suddenly Blind
Light upon Light
Night beneath Night
Laylah wa Laylah
How many miles to Babylon?
Rhyming stage directions,
carried in the caravan of whispers
cross space/time's empty quarter
with heart and breath
in blood and bone
go There and back again
In an eye-blink
The nimble leap through candle-light
The bunny hop from the trick top hat
Summoned by Sooty magician/bear
Whose love for Soo
strips him bare
makes him sutteed bride of flame
leaving behind naked, ungloved hand
That plays with Babylon's candle
casting shadows on the wall
bunnies chase butterflies
Majnun chases Laylah
Legerdemain in fractal twists and turns
Pulls us out to play our part
Til bowing low at curtain call
all rough magic is abjured
and we are drowned in light and night
The cat goes to Fes
Is looking forward
that loop and twirl
for the delight
of eye and paw
hopes he can remember
walk like an egyptian
for the night market
The thousand and One
Tangled in Laylah's Hair
Prayer in Babylon
The cat sits at intersections
of past and future time
In Babylon the eternal city
containing Rome and Jerusalem
Alexandria and Karnak
all places are here
the razor edged, diffracting diamond event horizon
identity: one and many
prayer is different here
longing immediately met; eternally unsatisfied
the lila Laylah play
prayer is the pouring out of all poring over
into the cup
giving all and holding back
so that the drop
is the ocean
the cat prays for Ukraine
is Ukraine and Russia too
is Putin and Obama
is fire in the streets
is the waving of flags
is national borders and old remembered times
is Tartar and Slav, the Golden Horde and the Holy Church
falls with them to the bottom
Gives it all to
She will know
Her , Her, Her, Her...............
the cat sat on his mat
feeling the collision of worlds
one half Jerusalem the other
the new jerusalem (some say)
they are quite different
place of fire
place of water
add without subtraction
and you will see
fire of Azrael
the Babylon candle
that in an instant takes you home
and yet that instant
is a life
three score years and ten
the cat sits and prays to find the way
through the dreaming fire water
there is silence
and then the need to bow down very low.
The cat sat among the ashes
of old loves and days
feeling loss of momentum
entropy beckons down and down
to the bottom of the glass.
Its restful here-looking up from the bottom
'Here's looking at you, kids.'
Rick's bar is his favourite
Tavern of Ruin.
He hears the Marseille again and weeps
Vive le liberte! Vive le vide de l'immobilite parfaite!
Sam plays it again and again, the repeating phrase,
Name of the Rose, whose perfume drowns
whose perfect crimson sears the heart,
into every cell she seals him in.
Rick knows, you know,
the power of longing,
the prison, prism that frees.
The still fire that wakes the bones
revives the Danse Macabre,
that turns round
Laylah's perfect form
and speaks her name in whispers.
Al Laylah La.
The one-eyed cat and the cats of Fes
The one-eyed cat walks the twists and turns
The ups and downs the in out roundabouts
Feels quite like Tommy Cooper
In the middle of a trick
panic rising- its all going wrong
Turns a corner- finds Aly and alley and all is well
He breathes and watches cats
djinn-genies of the crumbling city
as they adore butchers, beg at tables,
run through the souk with tails on fire
Sleep and dream of
Stepping through the pointed arch
into the garden
following the tale
Through sea voyage and treasure cave,
Waiting for morning and the sword.
the cats of Fez are immortal you know
Though sometimes their bodies
are found on the ground.
The cat and the Guide
Transfixed by interlocking geometries
That speak beyond time and tongue
A sudden meeting
Bitter without sweetness
Old, erect, with stick
Burnoose and fez in place
Allahu aqbar- this greatness is mine.
La ilaha il allah- no God but mine
We mime together.
Scylla and Charybdis crash together
As no road is found between,
Saxon and Frank and Saracen
Remember old wars,
Clarity without false smiles.
Peace be between us
In our separate worlds.
Christos Anesti; Alythos anesti
Word's out on the street
He's done it again.
Babylon's favourite high diving son,
He's made the long walk
and come out of hell,
"Only look on the bright side of life
Di dee, Di Dee, Didee Didee Didee,"
Resurrection is the only show in town.
The cat watches Dumuzi-Jesus,
and wonders at his lonely way
Perhaps we should join in
Walk the path of sorrow,
die and harrow hell
come up singing too.
Go with Robert Johnson
To the Cross at midnight
Make the pact that frees.
Fall on our knees and tell Willie Brown,
That we are sinking down and down and down,
To find the sweetest woman who will bring us home,
Ishtar,Oestre, Easter meme theme
Laylah and Majnun Eve and Adam
Ama, Aima and the great Amen,
Hallelulyah! Brothers and Sisters,
We have found the secret way.
Instead of watching the show.
The cat sat down again
re-membering the smell and taste
of forgotten days
smells the everyman edition of
Mabon's tales of youth, translated of course by jones and jones
small blue hardback fitting in pocket with consummate ease
as he prowls the lanes and byways of the great stone behind the park
or sits on the rock of the birds
where he can see the sea if he stretches up high
a small dull looking thing this book
disguising, hiding, the secret world of GlynDwr's whispers
that call the spirits from the deep
call emperors and goddesses and wild wily men
spirits that call us to the harbour bar, ask us to cross the line
and take to sea and then to see
beyond caer wydyr's blue-green waters
the toils of arthur as he ploughs his wain
making furrows in space time, planting stars
becoming the leaper, the sword of light
falling singing into the hwch-mouth returning to mochyn ddu
the dirty black pig who runs through the house
making trouble, making love, she cannot be confined,
the beauty hag who chases us down
til through all the twists and turns of nights and days
we are savoury and tasty with time and trouble
better than truffles any day!
The dead sleep with adders
as bell rings from stone
church upon tumulus
in tumult built upon bone
in the deep altar the sacred head is found
the loricaled oracle heard
through the twists and turns of helixed time
the game of hide and seek masks and unmasks
and mabon cries out from beneath the stone.
Janus facing into past and future
Oaken doorman opening and closing
sitting in stillness bound and unbound
as she wills
Materiana, Modron veiled weaving woman
Arianrhod- break the wheel of new born pagan certitude
let sacrifice not be token
but whole entire bloody beating hearts
so that the fundament is shaken
and we may know.
The cat remembers Dylan
The cat sat listening
It is the night and laylah sings
Of starless bibleblacked eternal town
Milkwooded tumescent tumulus town
Babylon made flesh in a welshmans pocket hankerchief
Every trick turned and every pocket emptied as they all spill out
These gods and goddesses of my youngold age
Nogood boyo and his mochyns float eternally
In the bay.
Couples dream and do not couple or kill
Tho they want to.
Time is as strange as Lord Cut Glass
While Captain Cat
Sings of timeless love and deathless death
Of sailor shipmates and strange strange seas
Upon the Brig O'Dread.
Of Rosie Mundi who
Was without all propriety and proberty
Rosie Probert in whose thighs a thousand shipwrecks came
And in forgetting found the All
In the silent sleeping night
Quack for her, not once but twice
go up and down
Then ask for Rosie
Ask for Sequana
Ask for Melusine.
Ask for Laylah wa Laylah!
Quack out your longing to the night
While Eli Jenkins poet priest prays for protection
At the moment of Apotheosis
As blind Sea Captain and his skeleton bride.
Make again the rosy love and bark
Like a thousand seals
Rhiannon rides round the mound ,
the deep high place, treasure trove and chapel of green
No man can catch Her, all men chase Her
round and round the spiralling layered grove-grave
leading us on with flirt and hint, she takes to her heels
in perfect stillness down
the deep place, the not place, womb of the cauldron,
the elephant's graveyard, the Sleeping Lord's couch.
Papa Legba let us in!
show us the way of the compass rose
show us Her place
make us hoochie choochie men
High John root-doctor men
Marie Laveau- make us New Men
rooted in water, rooted in fire
drums beating in our bones,
black cat, black toad pointing bones
lucky hoodoo mojo men,
As Rhiannon rides.
Call the dead from the grave
call pwyll and pryderi and the Black Man too,
Sink down, sink down as Joplin sings
St James Infirmary blues
down to the slab of mortuary coldness
down to the place where Inanna hangs
there at last we will find Her
blood on her mouth; stigmata hands
saddled at the gate,
crucifered to the Door
for ever and ever carrying us home
As Damballah-weddo and Ayida weddo
Great snakes of fire
keep on twisting like we did last summer
keep the wheel turning
Jarapiri, rainbowed, rises from the water hole and wholly gives himself
Pwyll prays and asks Her to stop.
Rhiannon, Wind Horse, Lover, Mother,
Marie, Marie, Marie Laveau
Make us whole.
Make us whole..
Night has fallen; the moon does not rise
the tumbrels roll and scimitars fall
while the weaving woman counts-knit one purl one
casting off each row of time
as desert sands give up the faithless dead
and old wars revive.
The one eyed cat sits and reads Hafez
Remembers the Tavern of Ruin and Laylah's song
Sits with Job in the ashes
Feels the thorns of the Rose,
Is this death or blossom?
Is this the crossroads where the hell-hound
brings us down; brings us home?
Is this the hour of Yeats Rough Beast,
Crucified upon the loom.
The Cat holds the double headed coin
lets it spin
wave collapses on to shore
Christ- Anubis dead living Lord
walk with us.
Bring us step by painful step
along the way of sadness,
To the place where new stars are born
The Olive grove and the rock at midnight
the offered cup of love and blood
the parchment waiting for the written name
when the four roads come together
and there is no way through
all maps though true
Ponderosa style burn from the middle
to reveal Hoss and Little Jo; Bonanza boys
riding into the empty quarter
Injun country where there is
an appointment to be kept
life to be given and gained.
At first mesa the hopis dance
Yellow corn woman step by step
walks the way, makes the offering
who will go in the kiva.
There is an empty space on the cross
There's a free seat beneath the tree
It is nearly noon
Time for showdown at the Ok/Not Ok corral
We all live in Tombstone now
Time to step on out and draw!
Time to jump and die
Come on in the waters warm
and the company is fine.
Y ddraig goch, y ddraig wen
red dragon and white
twisting together ovulating into
celt and saxon straight line and spiral
starfire and earthblood, enfleshed and transcendent.
Myrddin wanders within the Stone
old ragged blessings
flying in the dark
like crows in the night
the memory of old wars
Gododdin and the Somme
Badon and Bagdhad.
The Falklands and the Dardenelles,
The dead must be remembered.
just as he
haunted for ever by the falling tower
and dragons freed before their time
must walk backwards
through rings of the wood
to seek the Mothers blessing.
and beg Her
to open the Door
and bring him home
so that visions may cease
and the great snake is found.
Ouroboros wrapped around kouros
The son and the serpent woman.
Melusine and Raimondin
Myrddin and Nimue
old quarrels end
in colloquoy, in confluence.
in the recitation of old loves and days.
Time at last can bring forgiveness
but only She can say
Myrddin will stand with Nimue
and together they will pray.
Myrddin Wyllt; Merlin the Wild,
see him in the shadow of the oak
at the bottom of the glass,
As they say
in all the best pantomimes.
"He's behind you!"
What will happen
when you turn around?
What happens when
Flow dries to a trickle
and even trickle stops.
What keeps the heart
from slowly softly giving up?
When She withdraws into her cloudbanks,
and even Janus doorwarden goes down the pub
to drink himself shitfaced
(a job for two)
and reminisce about the golden age,
with old gods, demi gods and passing gorgons,
they all come here,
To the Tavern of ruin,
Is it time to take our seat
drink the black drink.
Too passive perhaps
though only by passive love shall we prevail
says Uncle Al the Prophet-Beast
who gave and took it like a man.
shall we raise the Jolly Roger
(down Uncle Al, you've Jolly rogered enough- for now
tomorrow is another day)
look deep into the fire of Azrael
follow the green flash to the edge
Stiff armed kouroi seeking the egg
Long John Silvers and Mustang Sallys
Highwaymen upon the road
making the Black Bess ride.
until the witches hour comes at last
and then we must
Stand and Deliver
bring out our dead
with their bones.
Them bones, them bones them too dry bones
sure got rhythm, can hold a beat
toe to skull connected bones
cos its Saturday/Samedi night and they ain't got nobody
dancing to the petro drums
red-eyed rebel drums
Maitre Carrefour and the Guede boys
dancing when the sky goes black
dancing with the devil on their back.
Carry on dancing with the soft shoe shuffling
immortal zombie Brucie boy
whose symmetrical mirrored catchphrase
opens the door
to every frigging word and deed
that comes our way-
Nice to see you, to see you Nice!
All-father Odin tired of walking out
checks into Motel 666
leans gungnir by the door
parks sleipnir outside
undoes the valknut
and watches tv.
watches SyFy and sees
a programme about sleeping gods waking
inside american girls and boys
gungnirs oh so focused point
piercing his heart as he
rides the tree.
the ravens sit inside in stillness
thought and memory fusing together
in sharp spearpoint pain
giving an I
To see beyond
There is pain in knowing
The shaking surrender into soft and living flesh and sense
That is Seidr.
Being corpse woman ecstatic marriage
Hel! Let's have a drink
From the well.
The burning mead that opens the eye
That isn't there.
And watch the fenrir wolf shadow
Fall across every path and way
Is it a good time to die?
Is it time to ride the Tree
Beyond pain and ecstasy
Make pilgrimage to
the dead-living giant
Whose body is the world.
Cry out for Baldr
can put it back together.
From one dead eye.
The hidden teacher sleeps beneath the Yew
With the Mother and ten thousand saints
Resting in peace
in perpetual light
Holding open the dream
Of the Qadesh grove
Waiting in stillness
Mounting up upon wings.
Focusing a practised will
Encompassing the temple
Of living stone.
Being bridge and theotokis
Just as well he's grown
His feminine side.
Joining together the pillars
Samson in reverse
It is harder to bind them together
Than push them down.
Collecting the broken misshapen things
Recollecting the bebop beat of bohu within tohu
Making space for the devil and the devil's bride
All that lives is Holy- Qadosh, Qadosh, Qadosh.
Sinking into density finding the living Tree,
In veins and rivers, in nuggets and lodes
Working in silence being the Stone,
Sounding the one note of the one unpronounceable Name
Bringing it all to the boil
Opening the space
The cube within the sphere
The axle and the wheel
The lit babylon candle,
From which all goodness flows
The Sanctuary of the Apple Isle
Is open for business.
John Matthews bookshaped Taliesined jumps out from a shelf
In Powell's City of Books
Presenting an image that hangs on the wall
Of my room,
That I look at
Over clients' shoulders every day.
When I was young I'd sit on a rock on a hill
Craig yr aderyn carreg cuckoo
Bird rock that pushes out of the nest cos its spring,
Sanctuary, temple and place to hide.
I'd read about him starbrowed teacher of tangle and toil,
I'd want to be with him in the Wood,
Sometimes I was and sometimes not,
It's hard to be welsh when being welsh,
Is chapel, schooling drinking and dark resentful rage.
Hard to embrace him then, better to find buddha or Mr Butler's Tree.
But he does not go away, i am tangled in his toils
The shitpig black one who boils me in the cauldron
Tasting the soup of my bones.
No escape, he's in Byzantium before me,
He appears when She first breathes out and when
The winds come together.
In a final act of applause.
But who is he beyond poetic cant and riddling words
Greatest of thieves who drinks the drop of the all.
Whose flesh flows and is maybe fish
forever making the salmon run.
Knitted into every goddamned cell
Breaking open every cell
And setting free.
Coracling in my blood, even here, now in each verse and line
His lessons fruit despite it all
And I face
Face the Chair in the Wood,
Find the muttered words,
Protection of the Honey Isle.
And the dragon crawls towards this cup of song
I praise the Sovereign
High prince of the Kingly land.
As I scramble through the Wood,
As I look for the saints grave,
I run and run and run but
all paths come back here
A rock on a hill
A Chair in a Wood,
And the starbrowed shadowed Man
Mabinogion, Mabinogi, Mabin, Mabon, Modron's son
Four branches springing from the Tree
encircled by the dreaming
of the sleeping calfskin bard
in the black house where the fire
Sitting on the hill reading in fractured fractal circles
monkey returning to the tree
jumping from branch to branch
trying to find the way
where Myrddin breathes
and dreams of Nimue
in her dark pool.
Looking deep into the inkwell behind the eyes
hunting in corners
the holy innocents die and die
playing badger in the bag
who's the badger?
who holds the bag?
Reaching out across the sea
while war is made within your living form
creation destruction feast and fire
worlds ending and dawn
When is the hour when the Head is born?
Morgen Morrigan and the Nine
sit and sing
in the deep place; in the not place
Myrddin wakes and stands
is the spindle of the wheel
Is the One Tree left standing
Is the Door
We monkeys try and try
to find the Key.
Myrddin, Merlin, Merde Alors!
leaping into eccentric centre
Wrapping the cloak of visible invisibility
in tattered shadows round you
Reading runes and cards.
Step out lively and search
Go with Dr Strange to the mountains
look for the ancient one.
commune with Lobsang Rampa's cat
and in the desert take to pieces
the dissembling assemblage point
and watch it spring back into place.
Climb the Tree and fall back down
Chant the Name into hoarseness
Sit and sit til your butt's not there
Merde Alors! Myrddin what's a guy to do
Turn again Return again
To the Rock behind the Hill
Pilgrimage to dark Madelena's shrine
In the hollow of the Yew
the house of living silence
Stand before the Door
take the down de-escalator
and visit with the dead
not any old dead but
immortal servant of the living One
Guardian; gardener of spring and Tree
Diakon holding Babylon candle
Father-confessor take our hands
and draw us in
to the small square room
a candle burns before the cross of yew.
The single point, brighter than the sun
The sphere that presses from all sides
Kyrie Eleison, Kyria Eleison
Christe Eleison, Madelena Eleison
I am afraid
there is no place to hide
within this night of light
old bones take flesh in dance macabre
"Eat, this is my body."
The dead stand up and are consumed
ashes to ashes , dust to dust
the lord and the devil do what they must.
Christos Anesti, Risen indeed
from the womb
in the root of the flame.
Confluence of each and all breaking out of the box
"Drink this is my blood, "
given by each to all, by all to each
Perichoresis in bed and board
each cell adores the mystery and passes it on,
"Psst the beer's good here, pass it on, pass it on"
Remembered honeymoon sangria night.
Lying down and rising, rising, lying down
in the caravan of night and day.
The Holy Assembly of here and now
in front of candle, cross in small square room
Love pressing in from every side
Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa
I am afraid,
A voice in the dark and a question-
Nearly midnight in Babylon .
The old candle gutters,
flickering shadows paint the walls
of world and heart and mind.
the dead gather and pray,
handfast with the living.
the immortal son
swims into flesh,
trading eternal light and fire of stars
for dense, organic coils,
and the pulsing, measured beating
of the rosebud heart.
It is midnight in Babylon
the ass brays in darkness
the candle is out.
the worlds pivot, trembling,
Silent night of holy darkness
Silent night of holy dread
Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison
Kyria eleison, Sofia Eleison
Kouros, kouros, kouros, COME!
Hear the cry in deepest silence
breaking open life and mind.
Hear the chorus of the creatures,
Babylon candle lit again.
The mass made at midnight,
The offering laid upon the stone,
The candle shining through the window,
Showing the way to home.
Next year in Jerusalem!
the old dream toast sits in the mind
as once again
bags are packed
airline tickets printed out
it takes 5 hours to fly there.
it was the unfilled longing
and going there laid
bare the throat
upon the stone
and only sometimes hand was stayed
and thicketed ram bled
in wicked ransom.
its wicked innit
going down there
to the place of the doves
where histories and gods
are stacked on shelves
come by and by and buy
My Lord Kumbaya.
The cat is not sure
prowls round it
feeling in the pricking of his paws
staged tragedy on a blasted heath
always waiting in the wings.
How long, O Lord, How long,
waiting is not easy,
when old wars and wounds
curdle in the blood and pound the heart.
Someone's praying Lord
Kum bay ya.
The cat prays too
that he will find the Babylon candle
he knows he left it here somewhere.
When he went yowling
into the Night of love
and camped on the Shulamite's door.
No Lord can help him,
Tulip at solstice-an ode to a beloved black cat.
The cat stands on tip of paw
at the tipping point of light and time
equipose of heart and will
flesh and dream and living light
making sweet love in purrs of fire
as the green breaks through
in particle and wave duet
cos its summertime and the living is easy
birds from air
fish from stream
like she did last summer.
She twists again
round and round
and up and down she goes
round the single point
round the flowering
cos things are humming
and twisting time is
here and now.
between the paws
of night and day
the wiggle starts deep, deep down
claws unsheath in leaping peace
nothing stops her now.
Complete is the imprisonment of Gweir
in Caer Sidi
Circled by Pwyll, Pryderi,
And the Mother's cursed blessing,
None before him enters in.
Into the heavy blue'green chain
Into the prism of the stars.
Into the Howe.
He sings and keeps the faith
The descent to the very deep
The place not a place
The castles moving and still
The House of the Nine
And the Servant of the Sword.
Mab Darogan, Leaping Lord
Owain lost, last Prince.
In the deep
To the Deep.
Colloquy of mystery,
Not hard to answer
for those who know.
How many turns of the `cauldron?
How many leaps into the Well?
How long the parley with the Sentinel
Before the Gates of Hell?
The knot turns in triple spiral
The swords' cut entangles space
Einstein rides electrons
In the white wave packet ship
And finds he is relative.
Is it the End or the Beginning?
Is the Prisoner in the Grave?
Is the High Prince encompassing
The compass that is the Graal?
Gwidhanor-close the circle
Show us the Head that sings,
Seat us in the Siege of Peril
Seat us in Arthur's Chair.
The Cauldron turns before us.
The Sword is in our hand.
The Chain is twisted through us
And the unasked question
Tulip at easter
The Stark-black/fruitless Tree
And the Red and flowering Rose.
Making the ring of roses
Why? oh Why?
are we abandoned.
will you catch as we fall.
Will the lord will come
Little girl rises
small black kitten/cat
(tho always kitten in my heart)
Shakes herself from sleep death
and drinks sweet water.
Resurrection in my heart and days
as iron braces soften and dissolve
she lives to fight another day.
It is not finished
Hosanna! Hosanna! Hosanna!
Hanging between, spirally suspended
Creeping down into the great abyss
Picking the lock of the gates of hell
Here we go again thinks jesus/dumuzi
Entering as a breath-a good good thief.
The path of the thief is a quiet one
Fair Janet would tell you; but you have to know where you stand
When you pluck the flowers of life and death
And pull the lion snake naked man into your body.
Don’t get distracted tonight
When the Good Snake comes
Teaching us all to shed our skin.
The door slips open and there they all are
Ancestral punch and judy shows for all to see
Old loves and battles, old poems and prayers.
Via dolorosas, Via Gaudete, Via Pacis
Jesus/Dumuzi walks the way
from the Tigris and Euphrates to Camden lock
down the thames to canary wharf
along the back roads and rivers
main streets and tributeries
gathering the dead-a thousand hands touching
for the Good Thief will have them all with Him
Flowing together like blood and tears
Waking the Rhymer in his fallen tower
(between the happy eater and old used cars)
hearing forty silver bells and nine
Kyria Eleison Sophia Eleison
To the Tree and the Apple
The marriage bed and the hill of the Skull
Jesus/Dumuzi entwines in her
And we in he.
Pieta of passion-do this in remembrance of Her
Not Heaven or hell
But the ferny, ferny brae.
Into the Green fractal flowing
Over the top
Over the Hill
To the pregnant waiting tomb
And sealed stone.
Hoc est corpus meum
This is my body(and yours)
Silver chalice of blood
The red and the white
The Flesh and the bone
Green breath of paradise
Hatches the world.
Padmasambhava at Easter
The lotus-born sat down on Easter morn
Calms the daemons in the high space cave
Opens his eyes wide
Revolves the diamond words
And perfectly remembers
Razor edge Urgyen.
The meeting in the garden
When the good zombie
Revealed the rainbow
Of promise, of solid light
When particle and wave make love
The great seal unsealed
Senses opened at the crossing point
Each point-circle unfolding
Intimate fleshly knowing
In unbreakable vajra chains
Christ is risen!
this to that,
here and there,
past and future
Rising from the ashes
Ro Lang’s gift
in hand to hand
Each Easter he remembers Him
He is risen indeed!