Man with Head Removed
I am not He but one who points the way. St. John's day will fall on a Friday
At 3:11, just before quitting time, a boy with a face split in two will be born
Through a cloven beak he will sing the conflagration of becoming and paint
Premonitory images on sheets of blank paper, using various shades of black
Ink depicting a world without a single static form and white space depicting
A world without a single soul, space occupied by the spontaneous and active
Tapestry of bundled perceptions lasting for one instant & just as soon passing
Away by the same desiring wind that swept those threads up to begin with &
So on & so on, tides of cathexis move boulders and shell middens, the beach
Appearing completely different from one summer to the next yet maintaining
Its name by virtue of the ocean, the Sun, secret trysts with the avenging angel
Born for the coming weekend, the forerunner will be marked with new organs
Antennae that reach into the coming leisure and displace his Active Principle
Immersed in living water he sings waiting for the first animal to walk on land
Carrying a soaked piece of paper to disintegration in its jaw, the premonitory
Image will be consumed, and image alone At a feast, he will make his first
Decision: to expose his antennae in polite company, leading to the ultimate
End of this man: beheading. Burial is unnecessary, light a bonfire by the sea
Related Subjects
Poetry