Resurrection, Now
"A work of art is good
if it has arisen out of necessity."
Rainer Maria Rilke
There is the bell-shaped manuscript.
There is a manuscript, bell-shaped,
& now chimes.
Chimes swinging, chimes rusting,
chimes swinging & running
chimes increasingly invisible
chimes singing now, death-notes,
working the mechanisms of time,
rusting, singing, more vital, less invisible.
Resurrection, Now. Settle in, friends:
Are you ready?
i.
He said, "Entropy is the boa constrictor
of reality" & played an E major 7th
chord, smiling, grim
I looked at her, placidity’s pinkest
smile, weightless silence, she felt
no doubt, no interest, no need
Crowds are unnecessary was what he meant
bass guitars speak frowning Biblical dialect
I trusted her, smiling weightless silence
ii.
He said, "Entropy abhors creativity"
& offered me a tab & a pill
& a sandwich & a prayer
I looked at her & she was more apparent
than ever; I looked at her and
she was not a yes. She was a now.
So now I’m crowded with voices
lousy with doubt, lousy with hope:
if there’s a song in me, I’m too fucked to know.
iii.
He said, "Entropy=Satan" & went
on looking at the sky where now
I saw holes of hope & he didn’t
I looked at her & she was gone
she was gone & I wouldn’t find her
now or ever; I had failed.
There is no sky. There are no doubts.
There is a Godd fluttering in our hands.
There is morning dew. There are chimes.
iv.
He said, "Entropy sucks" &
cracked open his beer &
walked back into the house
I wondered where she was.
I knew that, somewhere, she danced.
I was immolation, loud & brief.
Just drinking a beer with the wasting night,
now, just lying on the lawn, singing,
just lying to myself.
v.
He said, "Godd doesn’t like entropy &
neither do I" & he started drinking,
too, burning, convincing—
I wanted her back, whatever way
I was a whore now, beaten, I
was a train beyond timetables & tracks
Lying to myself, lying on the lawn
a whore beneath the fragment-sky
take me, take me, take me—
vi.
He said, "Organize particles as beautifully
as possible" and he warned me
I would not go unchallenged
She’s beyond particles, gone girlgodd,
beyond sky, now thickening.
now descending: She, lights, release
Holes in the sky thickening, I’m ready
The cosmic mind thick & tough, I’m ready
Spirits, galaxial oceans, soft, I’m ready
vii.
He said, "Entropy hates when you do this"
and watched a local college drunk
point a stained finger at me
The sky recedes & I am restless in the grass
But the sky is broken, pieces are falling
She hits me again, again, thudding, smiling
The sin in this world is world enjoyed
I am burned, naked, become her ruby virgin
A nightgown floats away, a pink wordy smoke—
viii.
He said, "Everybody’s selling out
to entropy: are you selling out
too cheaply?" & disappeared.
Nobody was left in the yard.
Not Jeremiah. Nor Merry Muse.
Not even Joe "Gin Blossom" College.
I failed to sing in the language
of sky, too eager, too ego;
time, I guess, to go inside.
ix.
He said, "The more you fight it,
the more it fights you"
No, really, had written this on his wall
Wanting Her back is not about
Time or Space, Eros, Mortality
She is blood. She is song. She is cosmos.
I am following in the carnal wind
her dancing causes; she has
become my pinkcheeked theism.
Resurrection, Now. Are you listening
to me? Am I? Resurrection, Now.
Chimes & manuscripts. Singing
bells at dusk. Memories of
Greyhound buses & evaporating
forests, of omnipotent kisses
and shadowy hands
but more.
Resurrection, Now. Are you ready?
Hung up on the beam, buried
in the hill, trapped on the
incomplete overpass, burned
alive in leadguitar electric
light, Godd is golden in
your mouth and you
are chewing.
but more.
Resurrection, Now. Chimes in the desert.
Manuscripts tossed from night-trains.
Bound for the West, passing a
carriage bearing your soul
going East, no wheels, no
horses, no driver.
Careening sparks. Levitating intention.
Girlgodds and flailing hearts.
x.
He said, "We’re all agents of
Entropy" and offered my a
pipe, smiling, my friend
She is not really gone.
She is waiting in my cavern of shadows.
She is nude, humming, watching me.
The Dead sing about "The Eyes
of the World" and I am tripping.
I am crying. I am mud uncertainty. I am shit-nothing.
xi.
He picks up his guitar and strums
an E Major 7th chord by way
of next point; he watches me listen.
She holds me in my cave in her arms
amongst her skin, still humming.
I want to stay. I will be her pink gown.
xii.
He said, "We’re here to fight entropy"
and he lit a cigarette and he began
to shut down his many machines
She said, "You cannot be my pink gown.
You must be my manuscript. You know this.
I must be your chimes. You know this."
I know this, my girlgodd. You are absent,
my girlgodd, tonight. But I hear your
chimes, my love & my manuscript replies.
xiii.
He said, "Beauty annoys entropy"
and pointed at my manuscript
and his guitar rang out E Major 7th
She is always leaving me, the way
the night always leaves, the way
my dreams squeeze my heart & leave
I know I am emptying. I know I
am changing. I know I am transforming.
I am filling up with you.
Resurrection, Now. The pines & the
streetlamps have long known. The
spirits in the cemetery, too.
Resurrection, Now. You are the
eyes of the world. You are bells.
You are ringing louder every day.
Resurrection, Now. There’s nothing
else left to do. You’re rising.
Pay attention! You’re rising!
Resurrection, Now. The lights in
every empty street are singing it!
Noise & symphonies. Badgers & rocks.
Resurrection, Now. No need to drink
or to drop or to dose or to
shoot or to point.
Resurrection, Now. The big bang
is in your chest, trying to tell.
Eliminate the unnecessary.
Resurrection, Now. Practice
singing, naked undifferentiation.
Love thy neighbors as thyself.
Drink him up. Suck her down.
xiv.
He said, "Our value is in
how unentropic we are," tossed
me a blanket, left me in darkness.
I am in bed now. I am in a coffin now
I close my eyes, dream past psychedelia.
I am waiting for the chimes.
The road toward dawn appears.
The sunrise is pink, laughs, sings my name.
I am young again. I will find her. I begin to run.
April 28, 1998
Malden, Massachusetts
Resurrection, Now
I was thinking how to begin posting poems here and I suppose this is the poem where I broke through in so many ways that it is the good spot to start. This night happened, more or less, the man in the story a guru of sorts for me for awhile, a funny one, from Jersey, toured with the Dead back when, played guitar, saw the twisted underside to daylight's neatly made truths. I learned so much from him. There are other presences in this poem too, I think best to let them be known as they are in the song itself.
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
my friend in the poem would talk on and on about entropy, he was fascinated by it, it seemed to explain the world to him, and maybe give him some kind of comfort...i guess some explanation can be better than none at all...the girl in the poem is more metaphor, symbol, something that was present with me as a kind of response to my friend's views...Art seems to me to be the balance to entropy, creation itself, the creating act, fertility, and the like...
I think Joe "Gin Blossom" College was some drunken young fellow who happened by along the street as we were sitting outside...
It's funny to return in memory to my days spent with this friend...we were both kind of lonely souls...yet the nights we spent together in high spaces were comforting, full of music and banter...I think of this friend and hope he is well, I haven't had much contact with him in some years...funny how one gets used to the planet filling up with ex-lovers, and remembered friends, and lost dear ones...
I think Joe "Gin Blossom" College was some drunken young fellow who happened by along the street as we were sitting outside...
It's funny to return in memory to my days spent with this friend...we were both kind of lonely souls...yet the nights we spent together in high spaces were comforting, full of music and banter...I think of this friend and hope he is well, I haven't had much contact with him in some years...funny how one gets used to the planet filling up with ex-lovers, and remembered friends, and lost dear ones...
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