Article 4

LVII



Merely a word

to decipher

the eye

which sees

a (self) portrait

hanging on a corridor wall



which sees

Bosch’s serpentine

tunnel of light

which sees

the black sparrow

sitting atop

the cathedral’s spire

and which sees

a rarefied angelic countenance

retracted through ethereal flames

…

and the night

aglow with gas lit lamps

and the pavement is cold

is hard to the touch

and the air is still and sooty

a distilled mass

entering into lungs

into blood

and into veins

…

and it is here

a word is heard

a word to conjure

the spectral phantoms

from nullities of sleep

a word to utter

the indecipherable rune

which speaks

of the autumn leaf’s decay

and its passage into death

a word which speaks

of this bloodless sentience

infusing mortar and stone

and Blake’s grain of sand

holding more than the universe

can contain

and a word which speaks

of this arcane essence

present in each expended breath

and of a wind

unseen at daybreak

echoing down corridors and halls

and entering into

the heart’s cavernous void