Sedimental Journeymen

Copyright 1990 by Mu Kraken

Sedimental Journeymen

by Mu Kraken

The lads walk in strange wakes, along tracks gone to weed,

along the Kinks highway, stalking orbal remedies

past the warm furribarrios and through the colonnade of

maidenhair, Permian,

to the sacred glen where a circle of blue glass insulators indicate

Polaris, Seven Sisters, the Hiker facing his bi-millineal worthy

opponent--

But they do not approach these austere demiurges;

Necturan naiads (neither fish nor frog but both pedaled and gilled)

whisper in their ears; they are faerie-led to the Gaze Bough shrine,

there, struck numb, speechless, unable to sit or stand, they perch,

swing free, verting and inverting at Foucalts apogees,

and resting their foramen madgum on the rotunda rail,

exters samadhi, their craniums discorporating in clouds of light,

so that the pagoda peak becomes their pointed hat,

parkland pouring in under the brim with birdsong

and melodious laughter of the bittersweet hershey-skinned blondes

bouncing by-

Kilohistories of countless pasts and indefineable futures

ring round their redestined present primeval:

Edens in Olduvai, Southernly last Sumer, Hall of the Mountain King

at Memphis

"Ficht du nicht mit dem Rocketen Mensch!"; they seem to say to one

another--

ALas!

So, energized, Bodhi Sandkhar, and Patagoni head home

to their fungi, test tubes, bottles,

and intelligent artifices...

Mu @ Parameter Pavillion

Afrodeity in the Workspaces

(or: Nubility on the Elfshale)

(by Mu Kraken)

The pearl of great value, tho much underpaid,

The brown jade, gypsy-eyed, coffee-colored maid,

riding astride a shesail dojo catfish dragontide tale,

dances me entranced, like a sweet-scented diamond vortex,

whirling past Shiva and shankara, cyclone and Psyche,

drawing me thru singsorrow hazes, wile me or Nile me,

deep into the femalestrom; I founder, flailing,

and, gulping exstasis, drown in libidinous wonder.

If her thighs becup a blessing, we should quaff her sweet licquer,

And if a snare-- why, Who set her there?

By the beards of Sts. Omar and Baudelaire,

'twere a sin to so protestantly scorn

what tableaux Destiny has so very elegantly strewn

as a regalion rose petal repast before us

and thus abandon kissmeet for the nine to fife rigid mortis!

An Evening Walk

by Mu Kraken

The rum! The rum! Lady Night doth come!

Momselle Night with her star-sparkled cape

decks us in her beneficent Mystery Drape--

Come with me, walk here by my side,

arm-in-arm, shedding unexumed yesterday

and with it miscarried tomorrow--

We will see a wood together

a godly wood, a sassy wood, pliocene invention,

far on an escarpment in a Namib that never was--

With evening splashing salmon and carmine

where sky kisses sea, a fond fondling engendering,

and the breeze begets us giddy with rose-scent,

We can stride the moon-glamoured Road of Ra --

cast on the waters by austere Sister Ceres,

and ascend the sky amid the cool lunar-took light--

There to unveil our Place and our Plays

in half a night or more of agnosis and ex-stasis,

all for the greater glad of all sensuant creatures--

Then, when our writhes of spring are complete,

drift on a raft of slumber deep into night,

piloted to dawn by the songs of the owl and the hoopoe

when the door to soft morning whispers.

{2:00 a.m., @ Plum Tree, 6-10-92}

ENDYMION/97

by Mu Kraken

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

Thrown stumbling blocks, the hagging coffin less intense but still

harakting on at the inner edge of ingestation--

Then the Solar Dance, gathering at the stillpoint Midtao Inn

(Wherein it is written eye et in Arcadia ergo of Rč/rocks,

stoned, ground heart loaves like linguistic ploys

in the shapes of blood and wind: me2I812)

Yes I, bringing in Demeter from the frost,

was ambushed by the Light,

Shanghaied and held for rhapsodom

Y

UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUH

AND I AM ONCE

And I am yet again

reborn as a myrman turning to be,

Limbs gently flailing in the depths of Photonic Ocean,

Clear, unobstructed radiance flooding my seascape--

A deluge of awe engulfs me and I drown in wonder

Like Jesus and Carlos gulping my travel in lion's portions

Choking ecstatic on the dizzy verge of luminant knowing--

Now enter the Dawns, golden, and Pagantry of Faerie, elleumaned--

Causing the small God-frenzied creatures to scatter

here, there, and yonder,

Torquing all eyes to the advent of Eve and Astarte

(I shall sit and see and bide

till one of them makes Her way my way,

nor move nor speak till She does so)

U H

How, then, shall I make time, ere time makes me?

o

{Mu Kraken-- One Fine All Satyr Day Eve, 1990}

A Canto for Ramblin' Rosie Crucible

-- by Mu Kraken

Perched here on this dust mote swirling in this great spiral cloud

of billions more dust motes just like it,

within a billion more like clouds

suspended like yuletime lights draped on the curvaceous cosmos,

sparkling diamond-bright adornment for that Lady

who gives Her name and divine form to that cosmos,

we strive and lounge and work and learn,

to find a plot of soil to belong to,

to scratch up a little bread and tea to set on the table,

a roof and some walls to raise around it,

then family, friends and lovers to close the circle,

and perhaps somewhen we lose the childhood Eden,

whether in this life or continued lost from previous whens,

and perhaps somewhen we gain it back (or stumble on it, more

like)

maybe in this world, maybe in another, maybe in our dreams,

or maybe in our visions --

a flash of paradise within an eternal instant,

then it is gone -- or with us always,

even unto the ends of the heart,

stashed away in a basement room of the mind

or in some forgotten attic of the soul --

Then the rock-hard reign of nine-to-five cascades down on us,

as heedless as fire and gravel crushing Pompeii's morning calm,

and we find ourselves adrift in lost and violent riptides

that criss-cross and crosscut this dreamstream we swim,

and then we stagger nearly blind, seeking coherence within chaos,

transfixed like St. Stephen by life's spikes and nettles,

nailed to the craggy cliffs:

yesterday's broken loves, tomorrow's aging children,

or simply faulty plumbing,

our vehicles in relapse for the umpteenth time,

and the road ahead obscured in a rushing haze of motion --

friends and family who disappear into the mists,

astride the never-ending departures,

and are filed away into eternity --

But sometimes in our ever-constant reachings

through the dimly-lit corridors of come and go,

we chance upon one or ones whose eyes shine with a certain

intensity

(or is it just reflected light -- the full moon, maybe, or street

lamps?)

some who come and shine with the light of new dawnings

a little minute or two and then fade back into the maelstrom,

leaving only glimmering memories,

like the last glowing cinders of a cold campfire.

Then we have to find there is this place within,

this door behind the retina and cross-switched ganglion,

behind the cortex, underneath the unstill waters of personality

and posture.

A twinkling of an eye and that door swings wide,

ushering in the glowings from a thousand other worlds like this

one,

casting our focusings on beach and mountain and frosty glen,

where the air might be scented of roses

and the wings of butterflies might sing in bell-like tones --

Then the circle must become a spiral, lest it otherwise fall apart,

and we become other than what we had ever thought we might

have been --

That's when the moon caresses us with her silverine pearlness,

and we swarm to the high places to howl at the Night,

unleashing not-quite-tamed hearts to chase hoodoos in the

shadows --

This wildness harnessed to controlled chaos

builds strength in us over the decades,

teaches a manic patience, a Pan-ic maintenance,

flame at the center of gravity within glacial calm,

sleeping in the eyes of vortices,

come home no matter in what world we may find ourselves,

and the glimpse or two of you, and the imprint of your perfume,

remain with me as a beacon across miles and years.

Sleep. Dream serene. Recur.


Tibet
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