HERACLITUS WAS EXTANT IN SPACE

what lure do you use in a river like this—
the organ of sight— jewel upon jewel upon noun
upon soul :: the dam and the sound of water crashing
  over the dam— I have entered the cult of blue

I have entered the cult of the blue— a beer
and the sound of the dam ::  there is, behind this river,
another river; behind the sky, a better, bluer sky.
 isn’t it nice, to be absolved of all of this—

isn’t it nice— the bobber— caught
 in an eddy, and held in place in the greenish water
as if it could be coextant in space
 with itself— this is an illusion 

“the self— is an illusion— extant in space”
 say the blue angels rising from the tumultuous mist:
nets exist, and chicken livers— small flies
 tied to look like crickets, those vibratory things

vibrating into their world of grass— a green
 world.  but I am in the cult of blue ::
the verb and reverb behind the eyes
 all things are caught in the net

I dream of the most beautiful trout
 above the dam, improbable trout— orange
and shining in the strange dream light, their eyes
 turning toward me, jeweled disks of sun

the net turns its blue gaze toward me— behind
 the sun, a thousand rays cast out on the water
what are they doing— where are they going—
the trout which are caught in the net of the sun



2.



my summit is a noun I shall not kneel before
my plumage is a dove I shall not covet after
my pilgrim is an idiot, my mouth inhabited,
my gauges, sore.  the gift— the fish— the laughter,
night and the thing that divides the night from night
my primadonna Earth.


we will find some sweet relation
in relation to the sun 



3.




gaskets, sure, and lure
counterfeit ape & ask
& asp, nude starling
eaten whole
            to whom
salt thou : this this this
shine grief & hold

perhaps, in the grass, an apple
perhaps, in the grass, a mirror
perhaps, in the grass, a memory,
a theorem, a sadness, a dashing

which leaps— from thing— to thing?

maybe there are exquisite
rhythms maybe there is
only one world

“In the absence of a brain
there is no experience of colour
at all, only reflected light,
in the world”

nets, and then, Dominion
Lascaux, & blue, & blue
most eye and widen, fever on
palm laid 
            down & widen, widen on

Mine eyes!— he cries— gouge out— thine says—

one to one to one is three
there is no mercy among the dogs
leaping and shining in the dust

to drink— again— its daybreak
to drink— again— its dusk— the tusk
of dark— awaits us

             can you take it, & us, to shore?

perhaps, to distinguish, a rhythm
perhaps—to define— a world—
we have to make use of a language of enfolded things

“that’s my
sweet and tender eye, tune
that one to me”—  he cries

this is thine appetite:    pilgrimage | perfume

the hammer— the nail— the swan



4.




“one eye on the wrecker” : beam, to call—
a thing a different thing— one chasm one

allegory one plant: a river, (oh, a river?)
would that you could but said

“he cries”
                       —     “out”

paradox of grass
paradox of sameness

who are you to ask these questions of the universe
to reinvent the loom—

                       to be a burden— on?



5.




this process— of negating—
Rome, in all its “glory”
paramecium & sniper & word for a
feeling of—

the danger, the augur, the bore, the fruit,
perdition—

might circumspect it only
might around an evening in
might hold down the pasture 

would that it could
hook itself to itself— into the world

might put one solid anchor there;
set it to some sweet tune.