sea level: "the only begotten" is a way we bury
the fertility the nothing broadcast as begets that beget the only begotten confirms the tale of the hollow
this fertile void that throws seed to a hungry divinity
—sea-gods conceive so many!
witness the violence: this fertility as nothing
out there where we wait anxiously with our dying
witness the violence: in our dying—life to eternity
because eternity has its needs & desires
the “look” from the idea of the tool sees us—identifying the annihilation
thru an effort to capture what haunts being alive
—this shuttering of light intended to conceal
what not even in dying will death reveal
in crossing over
is it we who hollow out
the combustible matter, grow wide
with dying or is it this breadth of life,
a god we decry in the ring-of-being-free;
decry past the preeminence in utero;
past the future where to die is without this?
without the hollowing?
Between the fire of light (as a god who works out her origins in a star—that star’s shine is thus) is revealed to those blind the light of night and the light doused in those asleep who conceal the first light of a star (for when awake, this self-same dark is where embryos dwell) is not the death of light, a night entirely empty of gods but rather the way between—this “blindness” of seeing that seems as if the dead should dwell, when in fact they can not.
the endeavor to plenish is how being alive repels what it seeks (it is only eternity that seeks its dis-re-membering) look how even desire between beings brings the distance that separates no further than seed—this brace of divinity
nothing to receive, cannot give
for even Nothing gives and receives
what is flowering but a hole?
a grave, not an embryo?
can "spring dead" be
without ovaries? if
to a hole hollowing is a gift
is not death the seed who receives?
what grows old is born, becomes what “to grow” has conceived which is what death in immortality is for in anticipation of what has past, comes nothing & yet this future, entirely free, conceives for itself an obligation to elaborate
if time is temperature than all this “chatter” that keeps even god alive
might as well be what strikes at the heart of it—for what is it (Pascal's wretchedness?) but this scandal of atoms that seek the benefit of fire?