Sunday, December 11, 2011

The Preexistent Race Descends/ Section 16/ End

By Brian George

Rules for occult harmony were all too easily broken. Industrial scale sacrifice was not a shield against trauma. From of old bleached bones have inhabited the yellow sands.

I went south from the capital. The age stretched out before me. Barbarians fought on flying bridges. To the west, chaos. To the east, above blue crags and gorges, clouds. On its long arms a gibbon swung from the girders of the constellations. Was that you the experimental subject that howled, or was that a poem?

The dream broke hearts. The light fades from the tower where slept the mistress of biotechnology. Zig-zags haunt the statue of the inventor of the atom. Corroded stars are swept off on the river, but should that river buzz?

It once was spring. Populations exploded. The neocortex of the simian grew enormous. Vegetation overran the dome.

Heaven is more mutable than water. The shadow of a rebellious planet dances, causing cities to float like fallout. Destroyed the 8 miles of the flat collider. Signs guard the omnipotent. The victims of the perfect shake. Epilepsy expresses the disjunction of vertical from horizontal.

Say thank you to the spider. Her webs alone support your skeleton. Be careful not to laugh.

Some birds and mammals are afraid to leave their cages.

Cryogenics has preserved a replica of the sun. Possessed by degenerate superpowers, and spewing ultimatums at the gods, wide-eyed are the drunks that dominate the panorama. Like a leaf blown from the tree of nonexistence, on the wind a robot flutters by. Each species is a remnant of itself.

Folk arts go belly up. Indigenous populations have been scheduled for deportation. For too long no direct transmission of geography. I sought the new, but instead got something else. Once abstract, I will speak now only what I saw: Beyond all bounds the sky expanded. Chang An—it was I who loved you.

Spring was green. The snake stretched out. To express my feelings I have come to Earth.

(Illustration: Alberto Savinio, The Death of King Solomon)

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