Within the hall of the mountain king
pillared, tapestried
with standing braziers
fire lit
beneath the vault of Heaven
starred and ribbed
the counselors wait
robed in brocade and damask
the great chair
sits empty
A key of silver on a chain of gold
a chain of office
the chain of a lord
the chain which binds
the chain which looses
the key to the lock
of the book of knowing
in the hall of wisdom
on the street of books.
the keeper walks
deep into the mountains
dry as dust
whose stones burn like embers
cold as the night
diamond fire glittering
sails upon the sea of dreams
we have laughed to see the sails conceive
and grow big bellied with the wanton wind
full bellied moon silvered
she being mortal of that child did die
that child
who walks by light of day
the streets of the city of men
by night
the streets of the city of dreams
gathering
the three gather
powers elemental
storm gathering
cloud building
shadow casting
disturb the sleep
of eldest
who dreams before the fire
within the hall
he stirs
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
She
upon a street of the city of night,
barefoot, she finds herself
cold, tired, lost.
There is a sound, as of distant
heavy hammers
pounding somewhere deep
far underground
like a distant thunder
or the sound of great stones falling
from a great height
down a mountain
a great avalanche
surging, leaping, falling.
she stands
very still
gathering herself
into one place
this place
and this form
It is a new form
a form she has not assumed before
she tries to remember
some other form
if she can see it
in her minds eye
assume it
return
she will return
but no other form
will come to mind
a curtain has been drawn
across
a wall
built
a door
closed
and locked
and she has not the key.
silver blue
black and grey
the city rises around her
beneath the dark and starless sky
shapes familiar
and unfamiliar
timbered houses
and buildings made of glass
glittering
stone
and brick
some towering up
high as the mountains
over which she once flew
barefoot, she finds herself
cold, tired, lost.
There is a sound, as of distant
heavy hammers
pounding somewhere deep
far underground
like a distant thunder
or the sound of great stones falling
from a great height
down a mountain
a great avalanche
surging, leaping, falling.
she stands
very still
gathering herself
into one place
this place
and this form
It is a new form
a form she has not assumed before
she tries to remember
some other form
if she can see it
in her minds eye
assume it
return
she will return
but no other form
will come to mind
a curtain has been drawn
across
a wall
built
a door
closed
and locked
and she has not the key.
silver blue
black and grey
the city rises around her
beneath the dark and starless sky
shapes familiar
and unfamiliar
timbered houses
and buildings made of glass
glittering
stone
and brick
some towering up
high as the mountains
over which she once flew
Blood is life
Thou shalt not drink the blood for blood is life
and life for life I cry for life is mine
between the altars horns build up the fire
let the smoke rise up to heaven to the sky
Ah sweet and fragrant smoke the smell of burning
flesh, and blood hot smoking on the horns.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
vision 2
The shadow of the winged figure is cast upon the stones of the courtyard below the cathedral tower.
through the rose window, dark lightning.
a cold flame, which consumes the light, burns above black candles.
the names written on the floor stones increase, one by one, carved with an unseen chisel, wielded by the hand of glory.
the voiceless one speaks before the altar.
the other holds the sacred knife to the throat of the one who holds the chalice.
the blood of the innocents wells up through the stones of the courtyard.
the tip of the blade pierces the skin of the chalice holder
the chalice overflows ink black blood
the robed ones now move swiftly forward,
fall on their hands and knees below the altar
to lap up like thirsty dogs
the black blood which flows down the stair
through the rose window, dark lightning.
a cold flame, which consumes the light, burns above black candles.
the names written on the floor stones increase, one by one, carved with an unseen chisel, wielded by the hand of glory.
the voiceless one speaks before the altar.
the other holds the sacred knife to the throat of the one who holds the chalice.
the blood of the innocents wells up through the stones of the courtyard.
the tip of the blade pierces the skin of the chalice holder
the chalice overflows ink black blood
the robed ones now move swiftly forward,
fall on their hands and knees below the altar
to lap up like thirsty dogs
the black blood which flows down the stair
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
sonnet 9
Oh father, kneel before me in the dark
in cassock black just like the carrion crow
who feeds upon the dead and leaves his mark
I now shall gather all the ill you sowed.
Christ crucified above the altar I
called by the evil dwelling in your soul
your hunger for my hunger, lie for lie,
shall empty fill an ever empty hole.
Their prayers have summoned me to your confession
whose office bought their silence and their hate
oh little man your sickening obsession
has called me here and opened the dark gate.
descending from my cross before your eyes
I take your soul unshriven as you die.
in cassock black just like the carrion crow
who feeds upon the dead and leaves his mark
I now shall gather all the ill you sowed.
Christ crucified above the altar I
called by the evil dwelling in your soul
your hunger for my hunger, lie for lie,
shall empty fill an ever empty hole.
Their prayers have summoned me to your confession
whose office bought their silence and their hate
oh little man your sickening obsession
has called me here and opened the dark gate.
descending from my cross before your eyes
I take your soul unshriven as you die.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
13:18
The world spins
before the eye
of a sleeping god
precessing slowly
leaves red orange
fly before the wind
spiral in courtyards
dance in the streets
courante
saraband
basse danse
gigue
the bonfires burning
on all hallows eve
flame dance through the night
bonefires
we are too wise for this
world
too wise
incandescent lighting
filled the shadows
killed the ghosts
laid the spirits
that once dwellt
in a world
lit only
by fire.
[Sound of shoes on travertine.]
Ya beat me ta this one.
Not by much.
A blue hair this time. Bit of a change for our boy.
Yeah. She was sixty six according to the... her Priest.
Sixty six... sixty six... huh. Looks older.
Yeah, well, we can't all age as well as you.
[pause. look.]
Thanks.
Your welcome... none of them has looked great.
Havin your eyes removed 'll do that to ya. So she makes... lemme see now, how many ?
Counting this one? Six.
Six?
Six.
You seein any pattern here?
Pattern? Hell. I'm seeing patterns everywhere. I'm seeing them in my dreams. But they don't make any sense.
Same here. Ok... So... Review it for me. What'a we got so far.
[A moment. a look.]
Right. Let's see....
vic one, single female, age 25, out with friends, last seen alive at 2 am, by friends, standing next to her car, talking w single male she met at a bar. Male checks out clean. so far...
vic two, male, Biker, age 45, rap sheet with various drunk and disorderly, assault, battery, possession etc. Suspected in a couple of homicides. Nothing proved.
vic three, male, a priest fer chrissakes, age 54, found dead in the sanctuary like this one, but by the altar.
vic four, female, married but separated, age 45, found in her kitchen. Husband has alibi with no holes in it. So far.
vic five, single male, 25, Goth, found in his bedroom. No criminal record. Last seen leaving club with person unknown. apparently female, not a regular.
And now this one here, number six. Widowed female, age 66, parishioner, found by her priest here in the sanctuary, kneeling at the votive candles.
Three men, and now three women. Symmetrical. I like that. All killed by method or methods an person or persons unknown. All found in the same posture. All missing their eyeballs.
Symmetrical, that's a big word for you. Symmetrical. Yeah. There's your pattern.
I like ta use one every now an then. Keeps em guessin.... Symmetrical... yeah right.
Two killed in a church.
Yeah, one in a parkin lot, two at home, an one beside the road.
And no witnesses.
No witnesses so far. An no fingerprints, no fibers, no DNA, no nothin. How the hell does he do this an not leave a trace?... How about our friend? He been here?
Priest says he thought someone was standing by her when he first came in. But since she was kneeling here, [gesture] at the candles, he figured she, or maybe they, were praying, you know. Or had come early for mass, so he went into the sacristy to dress. It wasn't till he came back out and she hadn't moved he came over to check and found her like this... like the others. Says he was sure she was dead, put he checked for a carotid anyway, then called it in, then went out front to keep... to let folks know there wouldn't be any morning mass today.
Kept his head... no hysterics, [looks around], protected the scene. That's good, that's very good. [sighs] He's the closest thing we got to a witness so far. Must'a been a hell of a shock, findin someone dead lookin like this in his church.
Not the sort of thing they teach you in seminary.... I ran him while I was waiting, ex-military.
No shit?
No shit. Special Ops.
And now a Priest. How dya like that.
You never know.
Might be tryin to atone for somethin.
Maybe.
[Door opens, conversation, footsteps, voices echo in the vault work.]
Huh. Sounds like forensics has arrived.
Yup... OK ladies an gentlemen, you know the drill.
Yeah... We're getting good at it. I see... Same posture as the others. And, [closes eyes, puts hand to forehead], I'm guessing no eyeballs?
No eyeballs. [smile] How'd ya know...
Oh, you know, you two, dead body kneeling in something that looks like prayer, so I took a wild guess. God damn, this is creepy. What is this... number...?
Yer tellin me... number six.
At least he's consistent in his method.
Yeah, if only we could figure out what the hell it is.
And how the hell he does it.
[observing]
What say you an me go talk to your Priest.
He's not my Priest. He's in the rectory.
You wanna do it?
Do what? Lead?
Hey, yer the ex catholic.
[pause, both.]
There's no such thing as an ex-catholic.
[laughter]
Yeah. Lets go talk to my Priest.
before the eye
of a sleeping god
precessing slowly
leaves red orange
fly before the wind
spiral in courtyards
dance in the streets
courante
saraband
basse danse
gigue
the bonfires burning
on all hallows eve
flame dance through the night
bonefires
we are too wise for this
world
too wise
incandescent lighting
filled the shadows
killed the ghosts
laid the spirits
that once dwellt
in a world
lit only
by fire.
[Sound of shoes on travertine.]
Ya beat me ta this one.
Not by much.
A blue hair this time. Bit of a change for our boy.
Yeah. She was sixty six according to the... her Priest.
Sixty six... sixty six... huh. Looks older.
Yeah, well, we can't all age as well as you.
[pause. look.]
Thanks.
Your welcome... none of them has looked great.
Havin your eyes removed 'll do that to ya. So she makes... lemme see now, how many ?
Counting this one? Six.
Six?
Six.
You seein any pattern here?
Pattern? Hell. I'm seeing patterns everywhere. I'm seeing them in my dreams. But they don't make any sense.
Same here. Ok... So... Review it for me. What'a we got so far.
[A moment. a look.]
Right. Let's see....
vic one, single female, age 25, out with friends, last seen alive at 2 am, by friends, standing next to her car, talking w single male she met at a bar. Male checks out clean. so far...
vic two, male, Biker, age 45, rap sheet with various drunk and disorderly, assault, battery, possession etc. Suspected in a couple of homicides. Nothing proved.
vic three, male, a priest fer chrissakes, age 54, found dead in the sanctuary like this one, but by the altar.
vic four, female, married but separated, age 45, found in her kitchen. Husband has alibi with no holes in it. So far.
vic five, single male, 25, Goth, found in his bedroom. No criminal record. Last seen leaving club with person unknown. apparently female, not a regular.
And now this one here, number six. Widowed female, age 66, parishioner, found by her priest here in the sanctuary, kneeling at the votive candles.
Three men, and now three women. Symmetrical. I like that. All killed by method or methods an person or persons unknown. All found in the same posture. All missing their eyeballs.
Symmetrical, that's a big word for you. Symmetrical. Yeah. There's your pattern.
I like ta use one every now an then. Keeps em guessin.... Symmetrical... yeah right.
Two killed in a church.
Yeah, one in a parkin lot, two at home, an one beside the road.
And no witnesses.
No witnesses so far. An no fingerprints, no fibers, no DNA, no nothin. How the hell does he do this an not leave a trace?... How about our friend? He been here?
Priest says he thought someone was standing by her when he first came in. But since she was kneeling here, [gesture] at the candles, he figured she, or maybe they, were praying, you know. Or had come early for mass, so he went into the sacristy to dress. It wasn't till he came back out and she hadn't moved he came over to check and found her like this... like the others. Says he was sure she was dead, put he checked for a carotid anyway, then called it in, then went out front to keep... to let folks know there wouldn't be any morning mass today.
Kept his head... no hysterics, [looks around], protected the scene. That's good, that's very good. [sighs] He's the closest thing we got to a witness so far. Must'a been a hell of a shock, findin someone dead lookin like this in his church.
Not the sort of thing they teach you in seminary.... I ran him while I was waiting, ex-military.
No shit?
No shit. Special Ops.
And now a Priest. How dya like that.
You never know.
Might be tryin to atone for somethin.
Maybe.
[Door opens, conversation, footsteps, voices echo in the vault work.]
Huh. Sounds like forensics has arrived.
Yup... OK ladies an gentlemen, you know the drill.
Yeah... We're getting good at it. I see... Same posture as the others. And, [closes eyes, puts hand to forehead], I'm guessing no eyeballs?
No eyeballs. [smile] How'd ya know...
Oh, you know, you two, dead body kneeling in something that looks like prayer, so I took a wild guess. God damn, this is creepy. What is this... number...?
Yer tellin me... number six.
At least he's consistent in his method.
Yeah, if only we could figure out what the hell it is.
And how the hell he does it.
[observing]
What say you an me go talk to your Priest.
He's not my Priest. He's in the rectory.
You wanna do it?
Do what? Lead?
Hey, yer the ex catholic.
[pause, both.]
There's no such thing as an ex-catholic.
[laughter]
Yeah. Lets go talk to my Priest.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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