· the cultural society · » Patrick Pritchett http://www.culturalsociety.org Sat, 05 May 2012 03:37:13 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.2.1 A Song of Degrees (The Union of the Tablets) http://www.culturalsociety.org/texts/poems/a-song-of-degrees-the-union-of-the-tablets/ http://www.culturalsociety.org/texts/poems/a-song-of-degrees-the-union-of-the-tablets/#comments Fri, 01 Aug 2003 16:00:31 +0000 Patrick Pritchett http://www.culturalsociety.org/?p=2540 interior space exfoliates Equations for debt structure // set out // new scales // registers for heat & loss.      Then the [...]]]> This is a song of approach.
Relation. Radiation.
This is a song of ascent.
Nascence. Decryption.


In the beginning of days X set a shard of glass to her lips.
Cusp & mirror > interior space exfoliates


Equations for debt structure // set out // new scales // registers for heat & loss.


     Then the lost tablets reverberate into an after-life of stars & grass.
          Resume the descent
                trailing sparks, letters
………………….     emblems of the greater
measure.




                                   Beit _ = _____
          (under windmill clan of waves run to intent)




      I
     Who
     Raygne
     Over you
     Sayeth
     Whose hands
     Are as a through-thrusting fire
     Whose eyes
     Are diademed
     With gold
     Whose mouth
     Is the cynghanedd sain (kung HAH nehd SINE)
     Of river-treble
     Under north wind.




To gaze on these forms,
said Annael,
is to enter either crystal
or abyss.
What Dee wanted was
the Appointment of the crown
to a double-glory.
Coronal account
of the bride
expanding
the well-drift of desire.
Seven numbers
to shine in the house of emerald.
For the blood of the gone sea
respires or ekes out
rune-sorrow
for the soaked lees
of the friendless.
By New Years’ tide
a candle pours its shadow.
Who goes up to the Book shall see.
Shall hope before a page
as with a flare.


 
       And the letters seamed all transparent gold.
        And his hed had beames like ster beams, blasing.


                                                          So night
                                                          & the blue spur
                                                          & the welter of bird-crowd
                                                into pine boughs
                         & the fleeing of light into grass delivers unction for trauma.
Going luminous over its slip to the dream-crown
                                                                   Of a signature.




Bring to granite insomnia plush of water.
Algebra, that is, restoration, to the eyes of the dead.
Petals of a rosary for the finger that wore copper.
Luster of the tablets to combinatory grammata.

          Because the maneuvers of decay sift astral logics
          & you must resist taxonomy.
          Because a catalogue of cause & effect
          is also a secret description of wonder.
Because to speak in a normal voice signals a waver of intent.
           Speak therefore
                      as other.
           Weird module of sound
                      singeing
fabric for the caustic of days.

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