A Lane To The Land of The Dead, Series II

A Lane to The Land of The Dead, Series II   


"Crystal is ideal
and as such
a transcendental concretion.
It is there when concentration approaches
its spontaneous phase.
One does not concentrate.
Concentration takes possession.
The world in its 'variegated splendor,'
its transient beauties
and monumental pertinacities,
May flies and mountains,
river flux, mind flux, soul flux, stone,
arise, abide, and terminate
as they will or as they must

but the concentrated mind
commutes with the timeless
in a moment that is no moment merely
but travels as if on the moment(um) of Being
in the full but local enunciation
of its apparencies."

Wrench Boy would have inscribed this on a rock
with crystal stylus
if he'd had but momentary access
to that which was transpiring in the being
of Jaguar
as the latter sat enthroned before Black Lake
liberated utterly,
the Chizzel of Liberation in his left shirt pocket, he
observing the circle of ghosts
as they ringed Black Lake,
among them an image of Wrench Boy,
the light of hidden crystal. 
Jaguar required no tunnel
chizzeled in the mist
to restore the Loop.

Each of the Confederates would attain
her own liberation.
The others also
to form a ring
within or without -- each
its own ghost
when transposed across Black Lake
or through a transitory tunnel.

These three artifacts or coverings
of Being itself:
Black Lake, Tunnel, Crystal . . .


The Garden arranges each element,
composes a scenario and a site
where all determinate coverings
might fade into their singular Liberation.


At the two foci
of the elliptical enclosure--
monumental chizzel--
ontological cup--
whose being
cloaked Being itself.

Jaguar completed 
formal Liberation
by libation and deliberate
articulated sips,
for his concentration was like crystal,
his throne placed
where two carpets crossed
as quiet colors ascended, descended
and fanned out from
his vertical spine, no mask now.


These actions have no history.
They coil about themselves.
They fade as they arise, timelessly.

Hammerhead arrived at Black Lake
in time
to witness the Liberation.

There would be thus sequelae,
both in time
and timelessly.


Let us work
to bring
to the state of Crystal,
the azymuth of mind's history,
we all shall take thrones on a carpet,
ten-thousand Hammerheads
settle down
to an exacting silence
mounted on Jaguar's mules.
Crystal is a cloak of Being.
She sparkles liberally
on the surface of Black Lake.
She flashes straight through every tunnel.


Everyone sat on thrones about Black Lake.
In the lap of each
a proper opal
with an asterism of crystal
to mesemerize Melee
that she herself might underwrite  
their liberation.

Hammerhead and Jaguar and Mule--
as if seated at the vertices of the crystal.
These embodied the Elders--
one Mouth with messages
to be read in the Opal--
a shining cup
shrouded in mist . . .


The thought
of the Elders--
what they think
and what one thinks of them--
waxes and fades
with the liberative intensity
gathered in the minds of the Confederates.
The Elders are 
mere ghosts;
but the gorge
above which 
the Eagle Serpent hovers
is real enough
in present time;
and there are crystals
in the eagle's eyes
and mules
that trudge
the paths
according to instructions from The Old Ones.
If they fade from mind,
their being is not in mind
but like the principle of crystal
or the sublimation of a path
that is a carpet,
and the energy of Melee
frozen in the principle of crystal:

It is the Elders that give the sign
to roll out the carpet
or to refrain from doing that.

Violets spring from their shoulders.

And if they vanish utterly,
it is only to pass away 
into Black Lake.

What is the Ornamental Chizzel
if the Elders fade out of reach?

Who or what 
is the person or persons
that stand at the Apogee?
Not Wrench Boy, surely,
not some temporary sojourner 
              through the transitory tunnel--

Who guards The Cup?
Who heals the Crystal?

The Cloak of Being,
when it's time to take it off or change its colors--
is it but a thing
for a Mole to inherit?

The Elders abide 
in the concentration 
of the perfect Stone.

A Lane to the Land of the Dead, Series II     


Open your mouth
and inherit a mouth.

No cup for that.

Leave all tunneling for the moles.

Jaguars in general
take moles for their antitypes.

And mules?

At the end of a long long tunnel--
an ample inheritance.

Open your mouth 
and drain your cup?


Jaguar is the same as he was
save for an unlimited
and continuous access
to Black Lake.

The mole takes a mule
as his companion.

Tunnel or channel
or information path-way:
Melee is noise.

A tunnel has two mouths.

Melee in, Melee out. 


A mouth is a cup or a pot.

Mole saw a ghost
when Mole gazed in the opal he found
while chizzeling a tunnel.


Melee got caught in a coil
that had no mouth.


She found a ghost
in a closed pot
and opened it.

Out it came.

In she went.


A carpet
mouths as 

Wrench Boy 
has no interest
in tunnels.

His messages
travel without conveyance
for they are already


Hammerhead liberates all carpets
from the inadvertence of the moles.

That which travels upon it
does so in plain sight.


It is not that a mole's mouth
is a gorge.

It's just that it is mindful
of its tunnel.

The Loop rejoined by Jaguar
must consider its transform:

the coil; its shadow; the tunnel.


Anxiety relaxes.

Now the work begins
to uncoil the tunnel
and locate the Great Cup
in the Garden
where twelve mules
walk in a ring--
twelve unequivocal worlds--one crystal--
visible now
to Jaguar
in the Gazing Opal.


Liberation summons
the ageless Elders.

They stir the pot
from the distant end
of the tunnel.

Violet opens an herb shop.

Her presence and sagacity
liberates ghosts.

They fade away
as Jaguar tends the Garden.

Put it this way:
History is a Mouth.


If you close your mouth,
what good is a cup?

Useless ornament.

The ghost of time
retires to its tunnel.

There, Moles rules.

We seek some other use
for precious Opal
than to tell the time.


The Loop itself is a mouth.

Straight spines unspell ghosts.

The Elders offer cups
all around the Loop.


I have returned
from history.

The patch-work geography
of empires at war
has ceased to occupy
my vision of the sky.

Open cerulean
and the whole dome
fits over the circular horizon.

My diadem shines
of its own light.

Being entire
from every stellar object.

Behold The Sun.
From the center of Black Lake.
Needles of light
break in radiant spicules
across shimmering circles.
Behind the evening trees.

from the north
recovers His splendor.

Moles run in and out
of their small holes.

The Elders smile
on the whole complexus.

They sit on their benches
outside of space and time,
outside of the illusionary logos,
the horses of logic
return to their secret embryos.

Each entity
embraces its syzygy. 
What then?

Hammerhead tapped his hammer
against the rim of the void.

Invisible Cities 
shine on their mountains.

Do you feel the necessity
of an orderly world?

You do not.

Events are free
in their momentary arrival,
their flash flash appearance
and the happy release
as they are gone.

Beyond the map
and its magnanimous boulevards
breathes the ancient Bellows.

A Lane to the Land of the Dead, Series II     


The spine was the source of 
some thirty-two sparks.

They filled the gorge
of the body's interior.

The spine
when Wrench Boy
makes love
with Melee
on some cosmic carpet.

As a cup it fills
and overflows
with jumping scintillae.

The Loop was formed
for the circulation of the Light
among the 3 confederates
and the harmonization of the energies
of the one world.

Melee is the force of the gorge
that juvenates the spine
of Wrench Boy/Wrench Girl
in the Garden
and the other 
syzygetical doublets.

The cup is full of light.

The confederates take it
into the tunnel--
the carpet spreads
wherever they wander--
a loop animated by melee--
a garden made luminous by melee--
a melee of scintillae--
a spine that grows quite excellently luminous
shining from the garden.


The crystal vehicle
is pulled by the mole.
Jaguar saw it.
A crystal without dimension
but poised above the cup,
punctiform, ring-size,  or cosmic,
brimming with violets--
one's history is carried
in a point--
even the mules can know that--
all time compacted
in a single crystal.


Burrow through the metaphysical tunnel--
the gap between this thought and that--
or fly across the gorge--
a dark cup
hosts the gap.

Reality fades away
to be replaced by violets.


Your hand 
covers your mouth.

You exclude the Cup,
stay out of the Garden,
reject mere ornament.

Do you think the Elders
order that?

They do not.

It is only the rumor of reality
that ever fades away.


A crystal hovers
above a cup,
liberates Melee
from confinement to a coil.


Melee abjures work--
it has no place in her nature.

She explores the interior of crystal,
defining miniscule gorges 
between its inner edges.


Moles has no life in a zoo.
He sets out to explore The Garden--
thus his affinity for Melee.


A puddle of opals
scooped out by a cup
and dumped in a pot
whose walls are incised
with chizzeled sigils.


Certain energies cross
twixt mule and mole,
tracked as a pattern in a carpet,
transcending Melee.  


The carpet maps out the coil
that wraps about the spine.

Crystal rills ride up it
and ride down.

The consciousness of Hammerhead is aroused,
organizing Melee
as the Spirit of The Garden.

A spine
has a mouth
down which ghosts

The moles move in coils.

Melee functions 
as a wind across Black Lake.

If you pour a cup of its waters
down a tubular coil--

Black Lake absorbs the melee.

A Lane to the Land of  The Dead, Series II


The Land of Opals
was visited by 
a rejuvenant Hammerhead.

He had inherited an opal
from one of his avatars.

Some opine
the human body
is a metaphysical garden.

Certainly everything grows there, 
even virtual violets.

But Wrench Boy thinks
it takes more than violets.

Black Lake
must be there too,
else that garden
is not metaphysical.

Hammerhead and his huge virtual opal
was rapidly revamping his habits.

He now had, in his spirit,
an authentic intuition
of the qualities of crystal,
and this had done much
to establish rapport with Wrench Boy.

Melee is the wind--
twister, dust devil, hurricane, summer breeze.

A wind full of violets
blowing about Black Lake.

There is definitely a spirit
about the garden;
but as the elders excellently have it
the winds circulate in the body's tubes and runnels
until they coagulate a crystal.
Then is the body the garden,
the secret water of the opal,
the internal house of crystal.


You do not chizzel your way
into The Garden 
or ride a mule
on a carpet.

A mole in a garden
inherits the opal only
if no one else is around
to inherit it.


Violets appeal to Wrench Boy.

He gathers them up and pots them
while holding his mind on the opal
that equally engages Hammerhead.

Together they work the coil,
Wrench Boy transforming 
the gorge into a garden. 


Compare Black Lake to a carpet,
a tunnel to a garden.

In the garden,
Jaguar lounges
on his carpet
gazing happily
at the huge opal
that Hammerhead
had extracted
from its land.

This was the work of Hammerhead
and his rejuvenant avatars.


You do not tunnel
through an opal
or treat it
as an ornament,

though the members of the rejuvenated Loop
inherit a pass
through the tunnel.


"The Garden will never fade,"
says Violet -- no chizzel
break off
the opal
from the mouth--
bestrewn with violets--
of the Garden.

Crystals are placed
above the prone

You used a chizzel
to give the garden 
and place the opal
and let the ghost
liberate the Opal
and let light
chase around
the metaphysic
of the Coil.

A Lane To The Land of The Dead, Series II


To ornament a ghost
is to ornament a gorge.

Crystal's antitype:
    a complex coil.

Inheritability shows
an affinity
for coils and tunnels.

Crystal receives
      its ghostly ornaments
processing ectoplasm
through miniscule gorges--
little mouths
whose native habit it is
to farm nocturnal gardens.

Best retire to tunnels and coils
and mute the quivering crystal mouth light,
for crystal is no ornament like a mouth


to be fed in secret 
by ambient forces
though in night light it waits
downing a small cup full of violets.
Her avatars  do this,
hovering not above Black Lake
but over an intricately woven schematic carpet--
the pattern of the crystals
depicted there.


Jaguar remains at Black Lake
superintending its deep supporting gorge
and the melee that roils in its darkness.


Princely spines of white fire
jazz up the black habit
of Hammerhead.

Wrench Boy started,
as if he had seen a ghost,
his crystal instrument set off--
it liberated the mole
so that a distant Jaguar
always sensitive to
changes in crystal
leapt into the gorge,
his spine
his inner tunnel
delivered signals 
to his opal
in hopes of causing
that magic habit to fade.

This was a new
disruption to the Loop--
an exaggeration of an ornament--
it would take some work
to work the opal
free from the ghostly ornaments
and make the overly stimulated spine
to once again behave
like a strong
and nonetheless obedient
sluggish mule. 

A Lane to the Land of the Dead, Series II


Work itself is a mule.
Work has its eye on Hammerhead.

Open your mouth
and out comes a chizzel.

That the gorge was chizzel-fashioned
is metaphysical.

Melee--a mouth.

The mule goes to work for Hammerhead
to build a spine
into the misty gorge.

That Crystal was fine-chizzel-fashioned
is metaphysical.

Melee has a mouth.

The spine-mouth works
the spirit of the spine.


The garden that once was a gorge
is organized by large pots.

The garden is a mouth.
It devours  that it might speak.


Its word is an opal.

Its horde of thought
is stored in a pot.

That is what liberated Jaguar.

He found a chizzel
to work out hitory
and acquired a fleet of mules.


They worked the opal
under the eye of Wrench Boy.
Worked it clear and smooth.

He made a coil
a tunnel
to transport the contents 
of a fulsome pot
by word of mouth
up and down
the mist-ridden spine.


He spread a carpet
across the gorge.

He found a cup to link
the metaphysical loop
to a virtual opal.
A grand inheritance.


Black Lake
is a carpet's mouth:
that exacerbates
the fleet of mules--

a mouth where a mole 
had worked an opal--

a mouth that was
its very cup.


If we put the proper ornament to work,
the chizzel-mouth fashions
an inverse of Jaguar--
a universe of crystal
whose mother is a gorge
that fills a cup
and frames a maze.


Ghost work fades
and shuts the mouth.


There is work
and then there is work.

Mules made out of black bones and red mud,

And the movement of suppositious histories
across the indefinite globe
contracts to a center
that strongmen devour in embryo
and force the moles
to elaborate coiled tunnels
till a loop ensouls
misty gorges
and gorgeous mountains horizon the inevitable.

There is no Old Hotel in such a world.

The thrones that ring Black Lake
and their associated virtual mules
and the laps that situate the opals--
restrain the tendencies
of their own manifestation.

Deep Storage. Black Lake.
Recur in the metaphysical.


Though Hammerhead
were liberated
in himself--
the avatars of his various propensities and qualities
wander in the Virtual
and here and there
break through the veil of the manifest.

No more than fiduciary realities
vanished with the demise of the Great Bank,
did Machination and Power
and the strongmen concerned
to accumulate the latter
for themselves or for their local clans and moieties
cease to function
with more or less ubiquity.

Hammerhead was liberated in himself,
but of course, qua liberation,
he had no self; or that suppositious entity
was indistinct
from the ambient and all-pervading 
ontological sky
coagulated time-wise
as if he possessed
an open and generally responsive
nature, different than formerly.


All beings conspire with their inversions and vanish blithely.

It is not easy to think this.

Inversion is other than Syzygy
but, like specter and emanation,
in the elaborations of William Blake,
require each other, by way of contrast,
for their natures to be descried.

The inversion of Jaguar
turns inward;
his intellect constructs him.

His world turns away.

The glory of his energy
does not radiate
but the energies of the outside
reflect in the inward
elements of his inner, dark accord.

We do not meet him.
But when entity and inverse interact
like person and syzygy,
since manifest apparency and worldliness
take form for entities only,

"it is not only they that disappear."