Blue Raven. Frank Howell. 1994.
For The Marriage of Faustus and Helen
I
The mind has shown itself at times
Too much the baked and labeled
dough
Divided by accepted multitudes.
Across the stacked partitions of the
day—
Across the memoranda, baseball scores,
The stenographic smiles and
stock quotations
Smutty wings flash out equivocations.
The mind is brushed by sparrow wings;
Numbers, rebuffed by asphalt,
crowd
The margins of the day, accent the curbs,
Convoying divers dawns on
every corner
To druggist, barber and tobacconist,
Until the graduate
opacities of evening
Take them away as suddenly to somewhere
Virginal
perhaps, less fragmentary, cool.
There is the world dimensional for
those untwisted by
the love of things
irreconcilable ...
And yet, suppose some evening I forgot
The fare and transfer, yet got by
that way
Without recall,—lost yet poised in traffic.
Then I might find
your eyes across an aisle,
Still flickering with those
prefigurations—
Prodigal, yet uncontested now,
Half-riant before the jerky
window frame.
There is some way, I think, to touch
Those hands of yours that count the
nights
Stippled with pink and green advertisements.
And now, before its
arteries turn dark
I would have you meet this bartered blood.
Imminent in
his dream, none better knows
The white wafer cheek of love, or offers
words
Lightly as moonlight on the eaves meets snow.
Reflective conversion of all things
At your deep blush, when ecstasies
thread
The limbs and belly, when rainbows spread
Impinging on the throat
and sides ...
Inevitable, the body of the world
Weeps in inventive dust
for the hiatus
That winks above it, bluet in your breasts.
The earth may glide diaphanous to death;
But if I lift my arms it is to
bend
To you who turned away once, Helen, knowing
The press of troubled
hands, too alternate
With steel and soil to hold you endlessly.
I meet
you, therefore, in that eventual flame
You found in final chains, no captive
then—
Beyond their million brittle, bloodshot eyes;
White, through white
cities passed on to assume
That world which comes to each of us
alone.
Accept a lone eye riveted to your plane,
Bent axle of devotion
along companion ways
That beat, continuous, to hourless days—
One
inconspicuous, glowing orb of praise.
HART CRANE
MANIK
Kin 227: Blue Rhythmic Hand
I organize in order to know
Balancing healing
I seal the store of accomplishment
With the rhythmic tone of equality
I am guided by my own power doubled.
The soul, the mind and consciousness are part of one continuum. The soul cannot develop without a mind. The mind cannot develop without consciousness.*
*Star Traveler's 13 Moon Almanac of Synchronicity, Galactic Research Institute, Law of Time Press, Ashland, Oregon, 2014-2015.
Muladhara Chakra
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