Root Cap

a great summoning

what will never bear & this barrenness being the whole of a soul (a destiny
that stirs the sun with great expectation) may be named "the baring of a god"
which in spring is the kinship fatality seeks in those now free to copulate

perfect eternity

in the world that has survived this threat
there is a more perfect one that comes by way
of an increasing-ness awake in those whose sleep
constitute this dark ubiquity

those forbidden to beget

awake in the dark

what sleep withdraws from the effort to divide is heat—where without its radiance no weather could swell nor ovule bare the soul its tree nor the wild reach of time beget this approach of fire—not without there being one whose waste the ambiguous emptiness keeps as if a dream for the sleepless who are the tinder it gathers against this expanding immortality—these perpetual combustions that light the way for those who seek the sleep desire has exhausted with the advent of seed

a distant fire

Yoke

the reason to die
why in fact it comes alive
is that the fire to be
—in the endeavor
to engender desire—
surrenders itself
to love utterly

the Place of any gathering

dormancy

fire & not radiance engenders desire
we advance only to fail—fall to gain ground
where to flourish is to extinguish
what kept the dark around

the rising sun

buried

Decay is how the fallen prepare to receive what will catch fire—the advance toward a sun-heap that sleeps in the burned away because even the semblances concede the need extinguished by desire

path of least resistance

all the conflict it was born for

Because of death there is something that yields the perishing a pregnant tense. If the Path lived that some give then would not birth ruin what a thing intends? There the surrendered that void their swarms to become a hollow where the dead are born? And yet the Root to come ruins what soil will flourish—its sloughed cells drown in the seep where the new-born swell voids formed by the vanished swarms that stem a cap an entire forest before! Nothing now wasting every reach a hole receives. This devastation of a soul’s tree what being a Root promises?

the path of least resistance

amorous

he thinks a hole
the expectation of ovule
she that it sinks like pollen
offspring, the dead—embers
of a whole—the sun & wind
a fire that flowers immortals

Behind The Sun

He thinks ovule is the god-given truth of it & She the gold grain yielding only when the celebrated union is buried—drown desire in the swelling, says the Leaf & drown the seeming in sunlight enjoins the Root for Fire holds & carries those cleaved by its rising. Night concedes: from whose ravishing is conceived the true seed of Appetite surrender to this rising thing that swims like a god in the wind

springtime

adoration

without the unlived there is no absence to make desire fearless
and without the unloved desire itself would extinguish—doused
like a fire that should otherwise arouse the dark to become
—in the presence of their formidable absence—the stars above

holy ground

a grave is what is born of birth
& to every hole an embryo—conception
of life is immortal—so says the god
buried in the present soil

irresistible is the putrescence & its flourishing absence
that will “void” an embryo if conception of life is immortal
because what else is a flower if not the grave a god has spoiled?

cytoplasm

What a waste is power—& ruin increase!—the absence of which
—the unbound—where only the unlived are allowed—all this dying
the ambition to conceive & cede as a cell the dark hollow
where the unlived surround.