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This is the place the end never touched
The place of dusk’s afterward first to awake

The prophet’s severed index
The prophet’s severed tongue

This is the place the end never touched
The place of the cave from whence passages

Of Milton and Bach fork
Off the pallet of the One,

Now merging into the single utterance
For which Darkness trembles for speed

Of His Light

 
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ENIGMA

It begins as it always begins when the mind has blown itself astray, below the bruised ashtray of New York, New York headlines where– at the top of a Bushwick Fire Escape as a matter of fact– a pigeon pecks at his post, at a... Continue →