Many Musics, Third Series *Concluded*

[cenacle]

Continued from here:
http://www.spiritplants.org/forums/index.php?topic=5613.msg32828#msg32828

xli. Grunt & Prayer

I moved inside her, a little deeper,
  a little harder. She grunted, liked
it hard, liked it to hurt, "yes,
  hurt, oh make it hurt, hurt me,
make me forget, love me, consume me,
  crush my tits, harder, deeper,
consume me, I want it, oh yes,
  oh yes!" I withdrew a little, young,
what had I loosed? What demons risen
  here, this darkened small room,
the dinner half-eaten on the table,
  the moonlight radiant & mad through
the single window, above the brick
  wall. What demons, I pull back
& she breathes hard. "Who are you?"
  "Just fuck me." "Who are you?"
"Just fuck me!" Ten, twenty years
  dissolves, thirty, forty one day soon,
& I still wonder who was she that
  night? Which she do I mean? Which
night? Breathe heavy remembering,
  breathe sad. I want it. I want it too.

******

xlii. Lies & Truths

The last time on phone, my father
  was lost to space & time, raving
in hospital bed, waving his legless
  stumps around while nurses murmured
& checked numbers. He cried into
  the phone how we'd fight them
together, the bastards, the enemies,
  the ones keeping us far. The ones
who had not told him this is how it
  would end, this drowning, this
ravaging despair, this freak tempest
  of professional eyes, this humiliation,
this taking & taking & taking. I think
  of him now, bones in the earth, free
of time & pain & all he loved. Were his
  life's truths any softness beneath those
last hours? The truths, the loves,
  the promises vowed to someday?
I wonder, & I wish I could have
  given him a warm hand on his cheek,
a word of comfort, everything is alright,
  & this is a lie, & this is truth.

******

xliii. Rift from Nature

There were moments, maybe three,
  maybe fewer, when I uncoiled
back to root, into soil, into sunshine,
  exhaled, & again, the world we
are drinking each other, the world
  we lay in wordless song dreaming
at night, the world, the wings
  inside my ribs, the web between
my toes, uncoiled through clouds
  when I rained, fruit I was eaten
& shit seed back to earth. Moments
  when the stars too were like fruit,
hanging impossibly from endless skies,
  & what was left of me danced & died,
& what I was, & what I possessed,
  & what made the world, & no reason why.

******

xliv. Dread Path

Tonight's hungers are new & old, every
  face wears them, & looks to another
to explain. Cities crackle by the sparkling
  crowds pushing shouting into taverns,
& those awaiting a last hour, & those
  fearing a familiar voice & its knowing
hand. Tonight's hungers range canyon &
  jungle, green sea & white woods, &
some fill bellies & some fuck whatever sweet
  they may. Tonight's hungers left us by
a combustible god, or molecule, or
  alien starparent. Tonight the taverns
ever more crowded, the rhythms beastier,
  the clothes tighter, the words exchanged
more plain. Tonight's hungers draw
  us nearer the end, by weapon, by evolution,
by the return of whoever let us down
  here, seeming bid to wonder & wait,
or by obscurest thought hurling heart's
  shadows that nothing's to wait for,
everything's to be done, we are the tinder
  that needs gathering, & the ignition.

******

xlv. Hope

To be gaming in dreamspace, ever,
  but not yet in this world or life. Mixing
the aerie hours with blunt whoring for coin
  gets little for either. What needs is
better transit through daylight's coarse
  simple rhythms toward escalating swim
in nocturnal waters. What's needed by day
  is hope & this needless by any moon.
Douse the world in it & ignite, if I could.
  Douse the world, let daylight & evening
finally merge together in a new glow.

******

xlvi. Despair

The worst of it was years ago, shitty bar,
  shitty jukebox, shitty drinks. A naked Santa
on the corner Christmas tree. She tells me
  the pills make it hurt less, with steaming
blue eyes, a soul of glowing auto wreck.
  She was young, she tells me, it felt like love
because it was so hard & so often. Panties
  down, against the couch. Her glass empties
& fills again. Feeling something's good, right?

******

xlvii. Imaginal Space (iii)

A moving space. Moveable space.
  Bursts of darkness. What tools & materials
gone at daybreak, what pisses blandly
  from dreams. What hope could douse
the world if any? Feeling something's
  good, right? Bursts of darkness, what
tools to work it over, what materials
  to shade & shape it new, moving
space, moveable space. What subtle
  flees from crowds of men, din of markets?
Tonight I do not know & bend like a
  young branch in cold sea gusts, listening.

******

xlviii. And If—

And if all these things do, indeed, exist?
Her frayed green sweater in that roseate
light? His tumbling laughter at an image
on the computer screen? What festers
& mosses between these floors? The man who
lived here a century ago, when this coffeehouse
was just a maze of dirty rooms, his long
nights of prayer for healing, crazed willing
to take his disease the faster if God
would just give a word back? Just one?
If all these things do, indeed, exist?
Then any blazing day of unity, any final
calling of all hands to one, any
let go & release to the universal music
must be rooted in the withering suffering
& sometime ecstasies of all who lived brief
or long yet fell a day or an hour just short.

******

xlix. Empathy

Love's long blind reach into the dark—
  I become one with your grief,
with your caterwaul, your moment's
  heated fancy—I call this empathy
& remember a story years back—

We were both close to homeless, him
  in a mobile home, me in a rooming house—
it was near Christmas, we sat together
  on a bench—we talked about love,
about what falls away with clothes, what doesn't—

The last time I saw him was a bookstore,
  a cold night, been a brilliant day &
now long disappeared—yet—I told him
  my fleeing beloved had written, had not
forgotten—touched his hands, we smiled,
  agreed all things are possible—

I remember now by your absence—
  by the vagueness of who you were—
I remember because most flakes away
  false—that beloved, no truer than
many others—but that hour, friend,
  smile between us, touched hands—
I am still reaching, too, for better and worse.

******

l. Betrothed

Had you known me as the sloppy wildcat
  of my youth, I could have explained
less & more. My love for you then'd been more
  like caterwauling blades than a dreaming's
ceaseless strange engine. I look around
  more often now, than up. You remind
me to look up. City's glare, heart's
  old noises, those griefs, keep looking up.

******


li. High on Labyrinth


How narrow the faith to forecast despair
  for all, call the world old, doomed,
explain suffering by one dead prophet's
  return or the collapse of all history
to one single ignited moment. Plant-eaters,
  icon-kneelers, hustlers of endtime terrors,
feel the doubt glare through you from
  chandeliered skies above, feel your thick tomes
& devilled costumery break by centuries,
  break by the long cry each new voice
echoes on, break by the hope each heart
  bears, no matter the darkness setting in.


******


lii. Counter-mythos


Dust a violent hour, endurance. This
  is why you suffer. Failure to feel your
suffering in my heart, breach the lies
  of kings & preachers, the market's easy delight
in slinging new ass. Strange need to call
  for love, for calm, as though a soul needs
be convinced to breathe, to sup. That man
  in tatters before you, swaying for a coin,
that woman crouched & weeping, armies
  praying tonight for a god's nod on the morrow,
dust, a violent hour, endurance. The many
  calls to despair, to gird better one's treasures.
This is why you suffer. Ignore the world's
  many fecund puzzles, the green oncoming despite,
despair & fall. Now down, nearly
  gone, reck that breathing earth, beneath
grass or concrete. Cry up a little song
  of hope in its rhythms, by your own beats.


******


liii. Tuning the Static


When passing water this morning I thought
  of you passing yours. Torrents of blood,
hidden waterfalls, the very key to the world
  found in summing all & dividing by one.


******


liv. Deep Space


One late night I will be gone, it will be
  hours or years later. My books have crumbled,
my deeds blurred. What I was tonight, writing
  as though never to cease, breaching my
heart for music to salve & share, become
  bones & dust, & the final opening of this
path from a few mad cracking years
  to what it feels like to dream forever.


******


lv. Persist


What it feels like to dream forever, undo
  hook of want in the blood, years' ache
of inner tides, push, pull, breach further,
  a sensation not yet flown in song, other
hustles among coin & ass, for the rhythms
  that bed bedding bodies, know, become,
the hand which tosses the seeds, what not
  taught or told, the map before the pathways laid.


******


lvi. Map Before


Would knowing help, watching that day again
  walk itself through? Remember: heart's unspent
music bound for colliding with that hour.
  The breath before, the decision to go. Laughter.
You came as one, left as another. Hungers so
  long held, long shaped, a new mold, now
perhaps a new stuff entirely! Nearing, yes,
  you are nearing, the word, the glance,
colors & breath mass into a name, a jacket,
  a vehicle. How God & dreams look to another.
You are young, the nights immortal. Even the talk
  of trifles excite you. Give back this hour?


******


lvii. Imaginal Space (iv)


It would be the same for any god,
  nothing learned in the hundreds kneeling
or mouthing the sacred songs. Nothing found
  in face smiling to face on the high holiday,
the cheerful choirs, the best-washed virgins
  smoothly singing of sin & penance & the fine
thoughts of each in his or her creased white
  uniform, blessed be, blessed be, blessed alway.


Fumble down into the mystery, the careening
  hungry hour, flesh gnawing for flesh,
& one god a thousand thousand miles away,
  & another near, so near, that hand's knowing
touch on skin, the laugh & cry in shedding
  clothes, feel that god as the breathing twins,
as sinews bind hearts, the few words,
  love, hard, touch, how the god would learn.


What rises with next light, stained & crumpled
  uniforms, blessed be, blessed be, blessed alway.
Was it sin or new love or a darling good fuck?
  The god would listen to the words as
limbs untangle, a breast to its harness,
  a cock into its sheath. Uncertain words,
because that moment, those sacred songs,
  the strange way each & all bind & undo so easily.


******


lviii. Imaginal Space (v)


Nothing unbinds again, space conjured is space
  real, no matter the bursts of darkness,
the diminishing years, how touch hungers
  & sates & mercifully forgets. I know
nothing & keep learning to sing. Nothing unbinds
  again, the lesson of drowned woods & old hearts.


******


lix. Blood on Canvas


Bells ring, little, nothing. Ring again,
  & a drum, & another. Something beats,
something breathes, there is movement
  if not yet dancing. I ask the Universe:
why suffering? Why music? Bells ring,
  & the drums, & someone speaks a word.


Bells ring, little, nothing. World bides its
  wicked, calls them preachers, crowns
them kings. Rings again, & perhaps an
  organ, a sooth where it hurts, where
the fist, the slur, the silence. I ask
  the Universe: why want when so many
lonely beds? Why hunger when the world
  bulges with stores? I ask, & someone speaks a word.


Bells ring, someone speaks a word, &
  begins to lie. Explain, & lie. Exhort
to principle & promise, & lie. Cry we
  are one! then parts the temple, &
its song. Bells ring, someone speaks a word,
  perhaps to sing, & now the lies are
crooned through music. Suffer, these
  strange songs say. In all glory, suffer!


I ask the Universe: why suffering, &
  why its glorious songs? Someone speaks
a word, as though to explain, & another
  lie. Bells ring, little, less. Kindness
most binds but many would not be
  so bound. Bells ring, all listen, clear air
ripples, sunshine plays out the minutes.
  Someone speaks a word, the moment again divides.


******


lx. Imaginal Space (vi)


I ask the Universe: why suffering?
  Why music? & behold this world my answer.


******
[to be continued]

[cenacle]

*** Many Musics, III, xli, Grunt & Prayer - it's amazing the different sex histories and experiences two bring to a moment, and how this shapes what happens new . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xlii, Lies & Truths - took awhile to write a meaningful poem for my passed father, but I think this one was it . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xliii, Rift from Nature - this is a poem about mind and psychedelia, over time . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xliv, Dread Path - we are the tinder and the ignition both, I don't have many beliefs to hold solid to, but this is one . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xlv, Hope, I've always love the night's truths the most . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xlvi, Despair, feeling something's good, right?
*** Many Musics, III, xlvii, Imaginal Space (iii) - always lured by the promise of dreamspace . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xlviii, And If— I was at CoffeeTime in Portland, Oregon, loved that place, and I was dreaming . . .
*** Many Musics, III, xlix, Empathy - he was a sweet man . . .
*** Many Musics, III, l, Betrothed - song for my beloved . . .

[cenacle]

*** Many Musics, III, li, High on Labyrinth, a song of hope, a kind of pissed-off song of hope . . .
*** Many Musics, III, lii, Counter-mythos, another song of hope . . .
*** Many Musics, III, liii, Tuning the Static, I like "summing all & dividing by one"
*** Many Musics, III, liv, Deep Space, I also like "what it feels like to dream forever"
*** Many Musics, III, lv, Persist, I also like "the map before the pathways laid"
*** Many Musics, III, lvi, Map Before, remembering 11/14/1981, perpetually . . .
*** Many Musics, III, lvii, Imaginal Space (iv), I like "the strange way each & all bind & undo so easily"
*** Many Musics, III, lviii, Imaginal Space (v), I like "space conjured is space real"
*** Many Musics, III, lix, Blood on Canvas, "Kindness most binds but many would not be so bound" - that's good still
*** Many Musics, III, lx. Imaginal Space (vi) Answer my own question: "Why music? & behold this world my answer."