Sunday, September 28, 1997

The Work

good and evil, only one, through the eyes of love
living on a prayer, in the heart of the universe, facing each to the other
a mystical mirror to the core, the reverberating exchange,
a private hoard of longing
sprouting thorns along the spine,
and then it was right to fear this cosmic rendezvous
where other companions turn away, each from his own, all but you,
you facing me
iterating unsealing, a most rigorous law in the balance
back toward the tail concentrating a critical mass, and then,
then it was too late to fear
and for us, the matter depends wholly on love
struck with curiosity, driven to know by a need greater than fear
watching awed, glued to the sight, unable to turn away
iterating the cascading function
like greased lightning through amplifying circuits
blackening lava forming stones along the way
iterating up the spine, engulfing all
forthpouring, one with the scorpion king
from the tailbone like a dark tallit covering
roaring with a male presence
and above the head like a crown, from your face on the earth
deep, deep the form opening the scull like a vessel slaughtered
drawing a meaty pulp out complete, swallowing it down
as if I had never been
an empty shell, forming nothing, and in the heart of the darkness
thirsting from where there
victory it surrenders, swallowed up by the harmony of tradition
uniquely treasured, made vital, made true
I know you, I do

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