The Leaden Box

 Within the Temple Mount

Beneath the Temple
Hewn from the living rock
And lined with lead
Within the chamber
Enclosed waiting
His dark thoughts
Spread outward
Ever outward
Infecting the minds of those
Who walk about beneath the sun
The Man of God brought him
Trapped within the golden box
Across the desert to this place
 And chained him there
Sealed in lead and stone
To await the final moment
When all will be made clear
And the Key will be found
To release the chains
Which bind us
To our illusions

Gazelle

 Thou art like a Gazelle
Standing in the cool dawn
Moon and Sun lit
Between Stars
And Earth
A diadem
Upon thy head
Awaiting the morning breeze
Which greets the rising of the sun
And breathes life into the land
Her kiss
Which bring thee rest and peace
Before thou needst seek shade
Neath the olive or the tamarisk
Grey and Green
For the Sun shall over thee
Light like unto molten gold
Pour its weight and heat
And burden thee with the fruit
Of knowledge.

Oh my sweet
Let us rest
and think not on these things
Rather
Like cool waters
let us flow
The one ‘gainst the other
Out of time
for the Cycle of Heaven
shall not be gainsaid
Nor will the nights darkness
wait for us
But you shall be a Doe
And I a Stag
And Heaven await us
Who shall rest in the shade
Beneath the Vault of Heaven.

I Find Myself

 I find myself waiting
Sometimes I lose my self
It is like
A pendulum
A plumb bob
Newton's apple
There is
That moment
Just
Before
The pawl releases
The wheel moves forward
One tooth
And then another
Rocking like a child
On her toy horse
The sand above
stretches
To the horizon
Zenith darkness
Nadir darkness
And in between
Where it falls
Grain by grain
Is Darkness

In The City are many streets
Lined with structures
Buildings if you will
Buildings if you won’t
Faces to the streets
Backs to
Well, whatever it is their backs are to.
Buildings filled with emptiness
Buildings filled with space
Buildings filled with stars
Buildings filled with the space between the stars
And there is the Street of Books
Books are the Key
The One Key is in The One Book
Eldest placed it there
Thinking it the safest place
And you know how it is
When you put something somewhere safe
Somewhere you will remember
So you can find it when you need it.

Saltation

To die
To sleep
To sleep
Perchance to dream
Aye, there’s the rub
For in that sleep of death
What dreams may come

What if the light
Were actually darkness
And the darkness
Light?

Say God were sleeping
And sleeping
dreamt
A dream

Or say that God were sleeping
And one of his children made a mischief

Say God and his Asherah
Dream together
And while they dream
Entwined
One child were to play
Perhaps
A dark game?

The Squire of Gothos writ large

Say the wind
That blows across the Dark Plain
Lifts now this grain of sand
And then
That grain of sand
Sends it in saltation
Randomly striking
Now this grain
Then that

Shall then not a pattern arise
And from the random dance
Order appear

How odd

How futile is the Darkness
How pointless the Light

Death has its own smell

Death has its own smell
Once experienced never forgotten
Putrescine
Cadaverine
Apt names

How long do you think?

Long enough to start stinking.

Given the heat that wouldn’t be too long.

Yeah, maybe not even a day.

Not more that three. But that’s just a guess.

You see the Cat?

No

Maybe he beat us to this one?

I don’t think so

Why’s that?

No finger or handprint that I can see.
Huh. Right. I forgot. Unless it’s somewhere we can’t see?

I don’ t know, so far it’s always been on the left side of the face.

So we know he’s right handed

Most likely.

Huh.

The Coroner will tell us if there are marks anywhere else.

What the fuck is this guy after?

Wish I knew.

Twelve

“Wada ya know?”

“Not much.”

“Same. I’ll tell ya something.”

“What?”

“We got a serial killer here.”

“Yeah.”

“A really fucked up serial killer.”

“No shit. They’re all fucked up. But this one ….”

“Ya know. It ain’t unusual for a killer to collect souvenirs from victims….”

“I know, but eyes?”

“Yeah. That's really fucked up”

“The M.E. can’t figure how he does it.”

“What was it, looks like cautery?”

“Yeah.”

“This guy is getting to me.”

“No shit. Welcome to the club.”

“I mean I’m having dreams about this shit.”

“You might wanna talk to the Shrink.”

“I don’t know, I might.”

“I had this dream that there were twelve people who… who…”


“Yeah? Twelve who what?”

“I don’t know. I keep waking up.”

“Huh. Twelve right?”

”Yeah. Twelve, somehow the number twelve’s very important.”

“Twelve?”

“Twelve.”

Adversary

The lightning struck tower
The lightning struck tower
Bodies falling like leaves
From Autumn ripened trees
From parapets
From  ledges
From crenels
From merlons
Stone on stone

The Ashlar stones so beautiful
Beneath the morning sun
Carved from the bones of the earth
There shall be no iron tools used
To shape The Temple
Nor shall the sound of iron tools
Be heard within the boundary of
The City of God.

How odd that I
The Servant of God
Should somehow become
The Enemy thereof

Oh Man
Oh Folly
Tis the same thing
Would that you could listen
Still your wagging tongue
For but one moment
SHUT UP
And listen
But no

One who knows
Can split stone with water
and wood
Think on that