The Reply

God answers with my doom! I am annulled
              this poetry blanked from the fiery ledger
          my lies be answered by the worm at my ear
        my visions by the hand falling over my eyes to cover them
                   from sight of my skeleton
    my longing to be God by the trembling bearded jaw flesh
              that covers my skull like monster-skin
          Stomach vomiting out the soul-vine, cadaver on
            the floor of a bamboo hut, body-meat crawling toward
             its fate nightmare rising in my brain
The noise of the drone of creation adoring its Slayer, the yowp
               of birds to the Infinite, dogbarks like the sound
   of vomit in the air, frogs croaking Death at trees
I am a Seraph and I know not whither I go into the Void
I am a man and I know not whither I go into Death——
                      Christ Christ poor hopeless
              lifted on the Cross between Dimension—
                to see the Ever-Unknowable!
a dead gong shivers thru all flesh and a vast Being enters my
     brain from afar that lives forever
   None but the Presence too mighty to record! the Presence
     in Death, before whom I am helpless
         makes me change from Allen to a skull
Old One-Eye of dreams in which I do not wake but die—
       hands pulled into the darkness by a frightful Hand
           —the worm’s blind wriggle, cut—the plough
                   is God himself

What ball of monster darkness from before the universe
    come back to visit me with blind command!
      and I can blank out this consciousness, escape back
          to New York love, and will
       Poor pitiable Christ afraid of the foretold Cross,
          Never to die—
    Escape, but not forever—the Presence will come, the hour
       will come, a strange truth enter the universe, death
                 show its Being as before
    and I’ll despair that I forgot! forgot! my fate return,
                     tho die of it—
What’s sacred when the Thing is all the universe?
    creeps to every soul like a vampire-organ singing behind
moonlit clouds—
poor being come squat
    under bearded stars in a dark field in Peru
to drop my load—I’ll die in horror that I die!
Not dams or pyramids but death, and we to prepare for that
    nakedness, poor bones sucked dry by His long mouth
         of ants and wind, & our souls murdered to prepare
                 His Perfection!
The moment’s come, He’s made His will revealed forever
    and no flight into old Being further than the stars will not
       find terminal in the same dark swaying port
                 of unbearable music
No refuge in Myself, which is on fire
or in the World which is His also to bomb & Devour!
           Recognise His might! Loose hold
       of my hands—my frightened skull
               —for I had chose self-love—
    my eyes, my nose, my face, my cock, my soul—and now
           the faceless Destroyer!
         A billion doors to the same new Being!
    The universe turns inside out to devour me!
and the mighty burst of music comes from out the inhuman
                            door—

June 1960