Ophelia

Ophelia

from the cycle of poems of “Ophelia’s knitting patterns”

I am Ophelia (far from madness)

a world of blurry, innumerable images in a tangle.

at peace with the diving veils ….

There’s blood on the water lilies somewhere,

at the Kronborg CastleBall

where crime is celebrated crimson

over the hearth of the Golgotha circus,

standing erect in the deathless truth

the life of the reaper and the sower;

my prayers are the prayers of dark silent marble crosses

my prayers are the seeds sown in the cooling magma

(Enough saint’s blood, the tone grows into madness, overstrained, demonic)

come cheerful death

come, fear not with revelation or impatience

come uranus moon

just come

Author’s Note: Ophelia in the fourth act of Hamlet is demonstrably insane, but the direct cause of her slipped sanity is something that remains debatable.

Belgrade, March 21, 2022, 9.52 PM Monday

Listen to the Mussorgsky in tune

their thermobaric prey
fast 76 seconds
to a lung explosion
did grab and swear, centrifugally
desolation unconvinced
catastrophe kievgated.

but you suspect you are on the go
    and that some mr helps you
it’s me and you backless copies
wear each your ribs, o tears turned o never
turn around, denials are in reality, imagine

Departures and ordinary people
Nice departures
sudden turns
of controlled drops, droppingly
goldenly gate
goldenly float

Something we are not aware of
Not now, not in moments
When we ruled suspiciously
While panting and deceived
you suspect some
god help my ego

forged a web dissectors, funny anyway
whisper nostalgically Enola Gay drops
plodded through a voluntary long tonsils
  cloudy and bloodshot eyes,
soaked throat

In nuclear plant fire
their very x-radiation heart
with salty intestines and cobalt eyes
open a  Kiev’s gate,
fire
but Kiev
the Kiev of bombast – flimsy what
a waste of time

listen to the Mussorgsky in tune
subdued with a su large throat bloodsuckers
a drunkard of darkness, miserable sick and thirsty
god pity me hoo!
who helps you
in blue water playing like hell

putr
id id
spikes of madnesss
collidingly absorbs arabian hoo
explodes in a krash
from deathly laughter
by the way chrome
high class audio tapes
washed with tone

non nuclear deployed
explode lungs
terryfing
The TOS-1 Buratino
o crushes, o sky
pour forth, the flames opened
to the carnival

skies seasons rocket

Poems Reading by Leila Samarrai

darkness reigns now

Oh, now at night unknown someone
hanging black flags on houses
shakes the handles

I am mild towards my alienígenas albertosaurus murderer
masquerading as a being zipped inside a skin suit.

and the secret alignment that chords over us
while bombs and people were falling around us

While bombs and people were falling around us
I’m jeering from one end of the full stop to the other.

Goddess, God or Lord puts on a pair of black gloves,
though she – the black spaz is not the son of a glove maker.

My heart is pounding,
chaos spit fire and pain,
and you beat me, wild man, Pérvaya mólniya

I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
I lined the idea that failed to flow forth
as I hovered over the Shrapnel soap
while the 1999 Shrapnels were whistling around us

the dark chords of a funeral march,
with bombardments and flügelhorn,
with the thunder of cannons in one sound

Mainly
There is nothing in the shallows
Sludge, shrunken heads and kiddie recreate

Only the fence is bound
A creeping rose on a black table
color

And the withered bush is there
Rusty, odorless

darkness reigns now

The Screams of the butterfly

In terrible airy alofts, flying high,
Adrift in anima amnesia’s,
Floating in fernweh forgottens,
A low birth in abyss’s,
Radiance in replete radials from rages
…In furious vortices.

You chase enchantment phantoms in Elysian fields,
Drips and drops tell tales to pebbling
flowers.
And sea’s shimmering sparkling spray,
Soliloquy’s shadowy opaque on gloaming coasts.

Butterflies, lonesome lighthouse sewn
shores,
The cannibalistic roses sanguine swell in opening horrors,
The star language songs sing and
susurrates,
Tower of Babel nations are euphoric in linguistic relates,
Your Jupiter cult divine drowned in
sacrificial wine.
The great oceans with brumal iced crest glistens luminesce,
Turning their faces in adorations to
eloquent suns.

Fires birthed from hollow
clouds eruption,
Butterflied veins in vain combust without refrain,
Butterflying flits in solar circles, dying in flaming cycles,
Swayed wings desperate, flutter flails
waves weave.
The sea shudders wide and the earth
gasps despondency,
It’s ceasing deceasing pleasing, powers
Gods.
Deserving of death, deserving of life…
Let him live…let him die…
Despised executioner, I…
But let departures be without
punishment.
The triumphant arrogant live…
…but if only…for one more moment.

It floats through sullen azure arches,
Delicates warbles sinking on failing ash
spark.
Strained in chained,
Fallen empires cycle timidly,
The swath mutes bitterly.
The screams of the butterfly.
In this witchly silence, the birds have no
name.

Howled realizations of impending
demise,
Roars in restless logos, linguistic
anguishing reviles.
The icy knife lunges, twisting in chests,
The dogs went wild from the scent,
Snake holes sent, trails for sour spent.

Icarus unspeakable without wings,
Eternal falling resonance in eternity
sings.
The unsettling crackling of film off it’s
reels,
Whooshing winds of terror revealed,
A thousand knives trembled eyes,
Broken winged horses and broken sighs.
Winged intimacy with deceasing,
Can you hear this breaking mercy?

Dropped to knee’s from flight, in front of shining seas light,
Womb burst swallowing lightning, torn
harsh flesh darkness in vain,
A new beast is born from the stain.
The cry of the caterpillar.

Falling lightning, beast in nerve cell
mornings,
Beast in miasmas with air on fire, breath a blazed!
Permeated atmosphere suffused
imbued.
She hoods submerging stars and turns
off the sun,
She transcends death threshing and flies
in the whirlwind storm,
Lunacy grasps the winged with scorn.

Transfigurations to sinister,
The harmonies collapse in desolation,
The intestines scream dissolution.
Sinking stars feverishly shaking black,
Red retch blood glares,
The veins swell chthonic flares.
Unquenchable expires,
Unsatiated thirst…fires!

This dawn of tamed passion possessed,
Mantles tremble in lowering laments,
The black forests gloam obsidian under
black moons,
The earthquakes grumble morbidity too
soon.
Dying iris turns transient,
Swallows hushed in sallow hollows,
The Hearances reviled,
The howl of the butterfly.
On this heartbreak soil
Deathly modus’s susurrous’s shipwrecks.
The Reaper ravages us all…
…For loss of her.

BUTTERFLY: Death, I heard you while you were breathing…
I heard you while you were sleeping…
I heard you while you were weeping….
I heard you while you were screaming…
Centuries of noosed escape,
Eons of eluding fate.
Shrieked clarions called silent,
On immortal heights.
The laughter of the butterfly.

Quote 1 2022

Only through dizzying obsessions can the shell of one’s own unrest be unraveled

Soap Opera-Reality Show, emotional intelligence …
The entire history, society and state are summarized in these few verses from Euripides’ Medea.

Messenger
When your two children came in
with their father, and went to the bridal chambers
we slaves were glad, those of us who had been distressed before
by your troubles. From ear to ear talk spread quickly
that you and your husband had called a truce to your earlier quarrel.

Slaves are not just slaves, they are first and foremost an “audience”.

To be continued….

The Juliet Flower

Night came, shining through the glory of all the sunset
Speed up this hour, Gethsemane,
into the vast unknown

Inhuman forms, here you are
Amorphous hordes, finally
and strange to say: at last

Echoes from the outer voids,
my cosmic dome Finally!

These are my invisible and wide open hands
Evidence? Why? Am I approaching? Am I moving away?
This one me? Nobody and Nothing!

Transparent postscript

There is fear in the night
as harpies fly to the moon
with a subtle cat scent

There is fear in the night
Held in lunar synthesis
Whispering lunar riddles

Indifference comes
ah, Abarimon scalawag drawn out of dephts
at his turned toes

Indifference is coming
singing and lamenting
and singing again.

the juliet flower still in a rage

The Story of Leila-Aleme Rhyme Poetry

https://worldsfamouswritersandpoems.wordpress.com/2022/02/18/29-poetry-styles-of-the-ethiopian-poet/

 

The Story of Leila-Aleme Rhyme Poetry

Poetess Leila Al Samarrai

Leila-Aleme Stanza poetry is invented while Aleme asked Leila to participate in his poetry contest of Abaya Stanza. At that moment Leila replied as she wasn’t familiar with styles with Rhymes but popular of Free verse and epic Poetry. Then we discussed for Rhyme building. After half an hour she wrote and sent the following poem
“So the fiery wind will howl one day,
over the pyramid of dead home leis
and a fiery celestial rain in a stream
and black flags will lick red like burning tongues,
the windows of the deathly pale houses will burn like mad berserkergangs
The moon’s green scream splashes in the silver threads
The all-devastating rhythm on the street will shout:
“Burn! Burn! Like a hundred-legged candlestick burning abominable May”

I observed all the structure of her poem and noticed that the style she wrote with was not known before as my experience. After doing few edits, the poem has given a style name called “ Leila-Aleme Poetry “.
And i sent a message to her again about the new style , Leila didn’t watch the messages during the break and that she just studied the genre, and that writing took her away but she wrote more stanzas.

Then she added the next two stanzas

“Confession of delight upon silver amour
and a metal spear thunders on the deepest wire
the underhand hellish lurking amongst
from the new splashed hellish wound lurking among
in a dirty spiral, with abstract bonfires
on the amour a confession of delight
in man is a beast, in ships a rich harbor

Only I end among you, flame to set the world on bam
the sooty chimney flag where the spark of September would blow,
rains, autumn rains and eternally wet tarpaulins
in a barn, Byron
the snail philosopher and mere fellow
flare, to set the world on fire, only I end among you
smoke and thunder and the rage of lambs”

She wanted only the style name to be called Leila Al Samarrai by the next statement.” I would like my name Leila Al Samarrai to be mentioned”. However, i opposed her decision by replying that the style name should be called ” Leila-Aleme Stanza” because we both were contributors. She wrote the poem and i knew that poem as it had a new rhyming scheme . Finally we reach at an agreement. I met this both a free verse and an epic poet who has been a member of https://allpoetry.com/Leila6 as a chance; she was a writer and translator of Serbian-Arab origin as i learnt about her finally from wikipedia.

Rule of Leila-Aleme Poetry

1) Leila-Aleme Stanza or poem is a poetry style of an octave (eight lines) with a rhyme scheme of AABCCDBA rhyme with a range of syllable between 7 to 16 per line.
2) You can add more stanzas

Untitled[ Leila-Aleme PoetryStyle]

So the fiery wind will howl one day,
over the pyramid of dead home lays
a fiery celestial rain in a stream’s spout
black flags will lick red like burning tongues,
the windows of the deathly pale houses will burn like mad berserker cliques
The moon’s green scream splashes in the silver threads
The all-devastating rhythm on the street will shout
“Burn! Burn! Like a hundred-legged candlestick burning abominable May

Confession of delight upon silver armour
and a metal spear thunders on the deepest wire
the underhand hellish lurking amongst
from the new splashed hellish wound lurking among
in a dirty spiral, with abstract bonfires
on the armour a confession of delight
in man is a beast, in ships a rich harbor

Only I end among you, flame to set the world on bam
the sooty chimney flag where the spark of September would blow,
rains, autumn rains and eternally wet tarpaulins
in a barn, byrons
the snail philosopher and mere fellow
flare, to set the world on fire, only I end among you
smoke and thunder and the rage of lambs

Klenak, scena 7

NOTE: due to the sarcastic nature of this mixed genre drama (horror, psychological thriller, social issues, quarantine …) I need a translator who would translate this play for me, successfully avoiding all the pitfalls of idiom clashes.

https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2019/04/26/klenak/

https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2019/05/16/klenak-scena-5/

https://leilasamarrai.wordpress.com/2019/05/21/klenak-6/

VINKA:

Hajde, Lea da se mentalno zaposliš! Da se razgibaš! Da cepaš, seješ, žanješ i kosiš. I da mi zapališ seno. Ene ti kabel za paljenje, treba da ga uštekaš u osigurač. Da zaiskri belo. Nove novcijate sam kupila. Bez halogena.

LEA: (zuri u prazno)

VINKA:  (obleće oko vrata, zagledava ih, opipava i gura štakom. Odjednom, povuče ih snažnim trzajem i dreknu)

Propala guma! Ispao bravi jezik, ispao tebi dabogda! Znala sam! Nisi ih prala ili ih tvoja majka lošim praškom prala! Sad treba Mića i ovo da popravlja, pa da bravu menja, a gde je brava tu je i ključ, treba da primeni sve svoje znanje i veštine na novo zaključavanje kuće, ko Brus Li! Ugrozila si mi sigurnost očevine! Šta ako mi sad u kuču uđu provalnici dok ti tu ležiš zbog psihički’ smetnji usled poreme… mećenog doživljaja realiteta! Znam ja Lea šta je kontuzija, poremećen srčani ritam, čudne ideje i protivpravne luciferske obmane! Ni Sud nit Kovin tu ne pomognu! Ni mojoj kćerki pomogli nisu! Al ta je više volela da se prca s onim njenim francuskim romantičarem nego da se leči! I on, taj  njen Saša, baš kao i ti, gonio umetničku karijeru! Misli da je kralj Bohemije, il’ sabrat ono našeg amero – Srbina Mark Tven! Misli da joj je ludara njegova boemska četvrt. O tome sam ja htela tebi uz kafu sve da ispripovdam, ali sad moram da mislim na novu bravu! Zvaću Miću… (okreće telefon)

(dere se) Alo, Mićo! Ma ne, nije niko obio sef, nego je u pitanju brava!… Ma isti kvar kao kod one onomad u versajskom dvorcu, samo manji, onako više po seljački, za Klenak..  jeste. Ispao joj jezik, a ti dođi pa ga uvuci, A onda ovoj maloj da isključiš struju baš kao pre dva dana. Hajde, živ bio… Nego, jel piješ onaj protein od koza nostra surutke.. ma kozje, bog te ubio, znaš da volim da se zezam. Kakve veze ja s mafijom imam. A nekmoli ti. Mora se, Mićo, zdravlje nema alternativu. Evo, Lea, Mića saoseća s tobom, kaže da ti nije lako, jer jedna je majka. Ko ona Maja Zlatogorka, mada je mene Sveta Petka draža. A ta tvoja majka, umislila da je rimska Venera. Ljubav i lepota! More, ako je ona boginja Venera, onda je s Olimpa sišla ka ekstremna desničarka. I zarazna bolest koja pogađa isključivo ljude. A šta si ti zamukla? Jel i tebi otpao jezik k’o u ovu moju bravu?

(gleda je ispitivački) Ubledela sva! Nimalo čudno. Preti ti loša anti stres terapija u Kovinu, kao mojoj kćerki. Al’ vide doktori ko je tu lud. Pogledaju u lik i vide da je sve u redu. Čak i ovi naši. A tek što bi te pregledali u psihijatrijskoj bolnici Engleske. Većih stručnjaka nema.

A u zimu… (prilazi joj sa štakom u ruci) U Kovinu… satrunućeš, poplava te odnela. I tebe i Veneru od Veliki Mokri Lug. Satrunućeš ko cevi im u paviljonu. Sve neifrastrukturno obezbeđeno. A parni kotao kao u paklu. I održava ga bolničar buzdovan. Ludi medicinski brat koji je umislio da je specijalista psihijatrije, a takvim ga i doktori i pacijenti tamo drže. Isti kao onaj iblis na infektologiji. K’o Hektor i Poluks da su. Blizznnnnanncciiiii! I ne zna se ko je doktor, a ko pacijent. Mojoj kćerki su rekli da će provesti tamo čitav život, al me zajebala s povremenim kraćim boravcima kod kuće kad sam od nje batine dobijala. I produžavala tako vizu za napolju, a onaj njen naučio je da uz alkohol spaja dan i noć van ludnice i tako ja osta prebivena (glas joj je stišava do šapata, oči staklasto sjajne)

LEA: (naglo, prokrklja) Moram da idem. (ustaje nesigurno se držeći za rub stola)

VINKA: (trgnula se iz sanjarena) A seno? A nošenje cepanica? Ribanje poda i čišćenje uglja, sagorelo drvo, a ostao ugalj, još treba toksine u stolici da imam i prolive i ja da zaglavim u bolnicu. Nema mrdanja – dok ti ribaš, ja da nadgledam, kontrolišem i usmeravam (udara štakom o pod)Platićeš mi svu očevinu što si mi naugljenisala!

LEA: Moram da vidim… (prekida) Od pola dva do dva. Neću stići, ja… oprostite.

VINKA: Vidi nje molim te, vidi nje molim te. Kakva crna majka! Sva prihvatilišta ja sam zvala samo da znaš! I kad izađe, a ti pričaš kao da će da izađe, gde da legne, gde? Gde? Kakva je debela ima da se podvoji. Jedna će da prilegne na stolicu levo, a druga na stolicu desno. A gde su mi stolice? Gde je česma? (Vinka ciknu) Gde je prozorski okvir? Knjige, fascikli, pravougaoni stolovi? Kupi novi paket poseta! Sima ima veze! Pitaj njega! Novi paket poseta, da ideš kad ti hoćeš, a ne kad treba meni seno da pališ!

LEA: Stidite se, ako možete, hiljadu đavola ste na mene poslali. Nema odgovora, jezik je među stisnutim pesnicama, udarila sam u vašu česmu, je nije je bilo lako slomiti kad Sima popravlja, jer da kažem da joj nisam prišla ne bi vredelo, stoga neka bude da sam slomila… lomila sam je lirski, kao tišina, i čutnja i slutnja i zvuk citre.

(uzima nešto odeće i nesigurno izlazi)

(Vinka se prekrsti)

(Vinka zavitla kutlaču ka njoj dok je bila na izlazu. Udarac o prozorsko staklo)

VINKA: Gde mi je krst! Nikad nema kad ga treba! Moram da lomim svoje. Bolje ja da lomim, nego ti da lomiš mukom stečeno i tuđe! Beskućnici! Ološi! Ono malo očevine što ste imali ste prodali!

LEA: Nisam ništa dirala. Mislim na ključ, bravu, gumu.. šta već (bezvoljno)

(posrće i pada, ali ne gubi svest)

VINKA: Đavle prokleti, još ćeš se u mojoj kući onesvešćivati! U ruke! Cepanicu! U ruke!

(Uzima štaku i udara je po telu. Lea ne reaguje)

VINKA: Uh, moram da sednem. (seda na stolicu)

Šta je mene snašlo od one moje kćerke da kuću izdajem, njoj pare da dam, da budem zaštitnica nepokajanima, s plikom kesom i sefom u kući, zar sam ja džaba brojačica novca u SDK onomad bila. Pakleni otrov da skuvam i da po ovoj prolijem, ma sumpor ta ne bi osetila. Misliš da ja ne znam da si ti svoju kuću prodala? Sve je Simo pitao tvoju tetku. A i moje koza nostre… sve o tebi znaju. Jesi li čula, nesretnice nečastiva? Pa kad svoje nemam, ja tuđe da razbijam. I to za 50 evra! Za 50 evra sam mir svoj prodala, umesto da kao kraljica Eizabeta provodim božiće i početke proletnjih radova, uz ofanzivno oružje da me čuvaju dvorske dame od takih kao što si ti. Đubre!

Kad ovi moji, Čips, Krips i Blods, mafija braća iz Klenka… da da, misliš da sam sama baka, nezaštićena, na to ste računale… kad oni završe s tobom plivaćeš ti na dnu Temze, veličanstvo. Umetnica. Ista kao ove moje onaj njen.Ide kroz Dorćol u crnom odelu ko kroz Monmartr, i svoje poštansko sanduče ima. Tu mu moja kćerka ostavljala erotska pisma. Umesto da ode u doktore ko što sam joj planirala, doktori odoše kod nje! A ovaj njen što je umetnik… taj.. Bodler! On ovako.. (pravi pokrete rukom) skine šešir… (baba se nakašlja i poče da se dere)

Ja bi mu na glavu uštirkani čaršaf, pa bi sve viknula: Duh, ide duh (baba se smeje)Povampiren pre Savanovića! A ova moja kćerka mu onu stvar bože me prosti od glogovog kolca ne bi razlikovala. Ostaviću ja njoj kuću. Oču, i njoj i onom mom sinu što je još gori od nje koga je oženio, a u zdravstvu radi: isčupaću im i krov i zid instalacije. Ako ne ja, a onda Perun. U sudskome odelu. A ti kad se vratiš od mame,nema struje, nema vode. Ne zvala se ja Elizab.. ovaj Vinka. Umire mi mama. Žrtvuj joj mačku za oporavak i ukleši u moju sjebanu česmu znak munje, sunce li ti spalim. E ovo, Lea, sa česmom me je stvarno iznerviralo. I sa tvojom prodajom kuće. Ma ja sam kriva. Trebalo je da znam da žena koja pri useljavanju ne donosi svoju vlastitu posteljinu… da njoj nešto fali. A šta tebe fali? Mrzi te da ideš busom, pa da ti hitna dođe i odveze te ko Vindzori imperatores što kontrolišu svet, da se k’o markiza od Vilingdona pridružiš mami na infenktivno! Zato se onesvešćuješ? Ne umeš ti da se foliraš ko mama. Nemaš ti ko ona scenskih veština. Kad o glumi budeš znala makar upola koliko ja o izolaciji poorišnog potkrovlja, pravac Oksford pa da te shvatim četvrt ozbiljno ko mamu. Ono čudo majka jednom rađa.

(ustaje)
Kakva volja! Kakva motivacija! Kakav pozorišni trijumvirat u toj ženi! Nije lako Vinku zajebati, ali ona je vala uspela. Koliko podteksta, koliko skrivenih značenja u samo jednoj laži u vezi računa za struju (Vinka zamišljeno)

(pogleda u Leu)

Ajd da ti poverujem da je to zato što nisi jela od osmog. Danas je petnaesti. Ne vidim pogled ko u gladnih zverova, ali rekoše doktori da i ti imaš taj grip. Ali i da nemaš pare ni za lek. I išla do mame svaki dan da bi onaj kreten (pričah ti o njemu!) provirio kroz vrata i rekao da l je živa, dal mrtva, držiš majku ko hamajliju il vešala protiv stravu ko zub od vepra i vuka. Dobićeš sendvič, ali tek kad mi popališ ono seno. Kao i ostali radnici. Zar ne znaš kako se to kod Vindzora radi? A i bogme postalo trend svugde po svetu. Pa i kod nas.

(izlazi)

(vraća se sa sendvičem)

Hajd preuzvišena pali seno pa jedi sendvić da ne bude sve svršeno. Nisam ja zla žena, Lea. I novac, ako ga imaš, mogu ne samo da ti ga izbrojim, nego i da ga pričuvam. Za petnaest minuta da sam te videla s cepanicom u ruci. Kad sve to završiš ima da mi zahvališ. Umesto da dižeš oni glupi tegovi, bićeš ti i bez njih čelična dama u vojsci Srbije.

(Vinka izlazi)

(Lea se baca na sendvič)

Neptune’s drum thud *between heaven and earth

Neptune taciturn you the drumming
moon – pronged fork
(Hiswhatcarbonfire?) with a
noisy light bolt from the Triton’s throat
when lo!
plutopian’s
cosmic silence
Pearce thy heart on top of lightning rod
flashes lightningeniosly
lightningredient, Chut, chut, chut

I was bent  looking at the sky
from an ideal angle
behold, hands are peeling away in glass,
at an incomparable address restores faith
in the mortal covenant with innate signs

Here, my hands are quite a clear
Part of the speech on the other side of the sheet
she misspelt the right words,
he collected the blurred images
all that was spilt and collected
into one flashing point
between locks and secret places, Pa rum pum pum pum

Come not anearst the angel’s nostrils
It explodes. Eternally in existence
sometimes absent sometimes
all around with irrepressible actions
emptiness, freedom of oblivion,
successful metaphors swallowed symbols
tamed snake, the foremother of small intestines
you shine a green light like a mythical image
there are many great secrets in orientation
and I play the game I found myself in

a live Fabian Gottlieb von Bellingshausen
antartica expedition
winter pastures opportunities for dialogue
in the greasy earth the blue flames of corpses
circumnavigate circumvent in iced iceberg
to the color of midnight
a live

The Whitman’s 8th funnyhanded shipwretched symphony
and my tongue was just born
like a new fire incited by icy strifes
give me cosmic showers
with quantums of radiation and floral scents
give cadmium in cd minor for fantasy and orchestra
with electronickered language
give me solitude, give me neptune,
give the sky the color of potassium in the dark

Beat beat drums
rataplan rataplan
captaincommensurate king Neptune in the midst
Captaincy, oh captaincy!
shine you thicklysillish bastard
nothings shine numberessness of me
all matteringgratitude of eternal now
of unworld maddened magicians growing old
yes but no
straight up into the pentagon
oxigon, cubicalamity Jane semicubical parabola
forever’s long
 to Thanatos and Hymen, Ta ra ra ra boom
About a law of merged vessels,
the invention of Prometheus is so tempting.