Malibu?
(Chumash: Humaliwo)
a birth coil
listening to the voices of the ground
was what I heard the rebbe say
this was today’s clue: filament of sound
in ritual astonishment, indigenous
at nightfall reinsert the plugged-in voice
it collapses in private property
enclave of guilt and fear, then escapes
to the parting of the Red Sea,
Sea of Reeds
in Judaism and Christianity the bat kol or bath ķōl,
the daughter of a voice, is a heavenly voice that proclaims God’s judgment
it is said that the sound comes from an invisible source
ye heard voice of words and saw no similitude, no book saw no book
heard none but the
oral in the head, bat kol a wondrous but small thing
the rebbe consulted said, “yea, it is a small thing”:
only heard a voice of one that spake words, no book, saw none
a still, small voice saying “Elijah, Elijah”
a revelation, a hum, caused by motion of all things
that fill the whole world
as a voice comes out of a cloud . . .
from heights from warring Jerusalem from Gaza
from thunder
from roar of the sea
heard small condensation on rock arousing itself
heard moth wing move, heard lament of gull
falling from heaven,
heard cry of stricken mother for her fallen,
as through tears
fallen children, the voice said
wash the world with tears
Nebuchadnezzar to thee it is spoken
kingdom is departed from thee,
kingdom is but a small voice to thee
hand of God, which is voice of waves
signifying echolocation of all spheres
nature as a projection into a human that needs
to project back at you
nature is us talking back to ourselves,
“we are your nature,” lamb bleats
Arabs tell of a voice—hâtif—that calls to
lost travelers in wilderness
and the munadi came in solitude of night
to poet Nizami when he despaired
Ezekiel hears voice’s daughter,
murmuring like a dove
he hitches her poem
to future stars’ embryology
sobers
small muscles
thrills metabolism
says look that soft blue form,
voice like smoke
true bat kol goes mad in human time
reminder in human time of vocables trying to reach us
in human time, no doubt but debt in human time
bat kol only heard how humanity
stopped the next dimension
(voices will travel)
and you might step on a twig and out of that
sound arises, which is daughter of God’s voice
word and emotions saying here, you are here
larynx in the making
be everywhere, daughter who vexes night
dochter, dhuktar, dohtar, dottir, Tochter, daughter, dhugheter, duhitar,
dugeda, dustr, dust, dukt, thygater, filia is feminine of filios . . .
daughter-who-vexes-night.
come to judgment, daughter-who-vexes-night
lurk here at womb mouth
see the seduction of innocence
Thel with broken cloud-wings
(she who sleeps on a swan’s wing)
tympanum of last tagged judgment
fragged before her time
sometimes the shout of a nation
it’s nation time at womb mouth
in Tibet a medium speaks in a notion of
lhabab, god-descending,
or lha bka’, god-speech
she, oracle, mo-ma, pamo,
bard-medium, narrates epics
transcends social liminality
otherwise laypeople go about
ordinary lives (victims of cultural / religious genocide)
Celtic Aedui
and cult of Mary the Magdalene
come inside echolocation’s
holy radar, do not cast a stone
born at rainbow crest
and still walk a curve at Endtime
but what coordinates come together
matrix of doom? part your seas
how far will Thel travel in your eukaryotic vision?
three Marys journey to Autun
gesture their sanctity
suckle and go on
feel cobblestones under feet’s martyrdom
is she a guide, mourning dove?
did Thel live with you long, cut up a grasping mind?
enter trenches of feminine guile and its vocabulary?
locked within walls of stony calyxes
never virgin birth
but sprung from a poet’s inner eye, a fourth moment?
chrysalis gestates auguries
within a conch shell
stone eggs
emerge from inside gourds,
glistening melons
hold cradles within a tomb
chaotic voices in warning mode
before entering the grove
Old English grat—
grove, copse,
akin to graeta—thicket
from proto-Germanic Graef—grave, ditch
Old Norse gróf—cave
brim site on a river bank
birth bed, death bed?
perhaps a protective syllable lowers
into the woman through the
top of her head
and becomes the waist of the child
syllable “V,” a drop of sesame oil
on the tail of a deer at the beginning of time
what else goes into first human being?
this book connects to the navel of
a transmigrating woman yet to come
place a gem in mouth of her corpse
for the next cycle
in dulcimer space, new woman, sex unnameable
these beings before they take birth have miraculous abilities
walk on water see with divine eyes never age
and vocalize
formation of eyes in the embryo
evolve with sounds in the womb
and expand with explosions from outside
eye-like features called “the eye of the lamps” appear
Locator is axis mundi
tell me everything you know about birdsong and poetry!
standing in recovery
a theogony
reading all the books in the world
fine Egyptian glaze to Thel’s expression
hieratic faience
child come close
sprite, all lit up, attentive
antennae on fire
otherwise in a time of entertainment
we begin to lose our minds
as predators kill to survive
wandering minds ask
what is reality
where can I rest?
where can I take birth?
who will love me?
it’s a dark room
devoid of color
human body will be created again when it is
nothing but bones and dust
body waiting for its orders
become bronze
“All in timing”
(a feather brushes your thigh)
love is cyberconnective
chthonic phases, more feathery light
tension of the heart
mind is moist
why not free on little bed of desire?
see through you to older side:
resembles a forest
see through you to the other side:
resembles timber bower
resembles rainbow of eccentric color
emanating from industrial waste
our squat, nihilistic punk days
full of glory and burnout
a measure of sound, making love
would enter here? on command?
ray emanating from a child’s scalp
carved with “V” for Victory
what is that raw color . . . of blood
not here, would not enter here, russet
what is the spectrum of child’s pain
no, not enter there
(seduce me, I might be persuaded)
what comes in here to disappear?
get rid of person; all of you
tie up your heart in a squatter’s cell
get rid of your pronoun once and for all
troubled to centuries, refugee identity
motor is arms
arms are as motor fronds
what are they saying your neck of a woods?
what do they whisper?
lift & lift
lilt & lilt & lift to lilt
not enter here
mere appropriation
lesser motility
moving millions of bodies in diaspora
yet dawn brings warmth
voice brings warmth
sound debate
rings, Thel on a pedestal
you might desire to know your ideas better
as maimed statuary
or as scorpion who masks her sting
as brooch altered your eye
or oddity of scarf
what was embedded in the gypsy camp?
what kind of orgiastic medicine in the future?
ability to grow back limbs,
ability to grow back breast et cetera
or become a man, tested by testosterone
but nongendered, vehicle for greater power
twisting inside inner ear
am not your kind of century or beauty
universe hits with toxicity
prompts of little use, am not
flash of a spirit went by, vox dei
sprung of mother’s knee
primary art shows red on the outer part
violet on the inner side caused by light
refracted when entering a droplet of water
rest in there, inchoate womb
non-dual primordial energy
stands astute in
“there was an incident”
or love affair
the New World calling
sexes separated out
mystical phantom market
as if a deity arrives to distribute largesse
call it “property,” “land”
North America: her little plot of clay
wheel run down on Offworld
someone said “sabotage”
Locator working overtime
voices insistent on this: be rational
we made tea in the gypsy camp
tell more stories, he begged
about your deities, your vox dei
America’s doom and promise
how it slaughters its innocents
visions, past lives
everyone a nomad
out here by the Red Sea
Mostafa handed me the tin cup
too hot to hold