(inspired by my reading of the Nag Hammadi) "Follow the clue patiently and you will understand nothing" (Basil Bunting) ------ Seth says, she's the unimpressionable ,ever diffused wildly in wrong light, and bright as the worm who worms into the wrong-wheeled soul, sewing the leprous song of men's hearts;
and surfeited, as worms in the wrong unimaginable light go and the empty and forlorn flower gardens, too, is Sophia, who's never one to tell the inconstant & wrong-headed souls they've been trampled in the unwise night of earth, and entwined at its airy ends, nor that star-airy night can rile the wise;
and who says "The heart's a niche for nettles that the aeons recoil from (unimaginable how!), & that it lisps til it's dark and queens the uninquisitive who like to ease into the cattail mud, lazy and proud, whose shield is more of the same insensate night"— Sophia, who says all this is never one to rise or start too lightly or rather blame the scent of day for the abyssal Night, not liking to rise dunged in all this abyssal heart of night, emptied and emptying like all the poor flowerless, the poor starless who coil out of dark inscrutable mud Aeons! Aeons! boring into the sky's derisory mouth & maddening all the rest, quick-eyed are like Sophia who riles them, without pity, hair of gristly snow Hymns sure of this owl-vinctrix, with limbs agile and congruous, claw deep into mud
And her pitiless falling unkings the dark and scatters all its seed, gelid-eyed vinctrix who disembowels deep to make the archons shriek and the angels sleep, Barbelo, Adamas, & scatters tansy over their bones; or stands twenty-four hours round them, the gelid bones and windpipes, and archons lying in twitch grass, & twenty-four more, shrieking or is double stars high, in cahoots with the swelling All or high over the grasses, a dying half-voiced song from the wrong light, unlinked by the All and chorusing moodily over the windpipes.
(2010)