The Sea As Sigil
I book a ticket home
And for the next three weeks I do not exist
In any communal realm whatsoever
But learn and learn and breath and breath
Items are kept like sentries hanging around:
Sekh’met here on the mantelpiece,
Enki with his staff atop the desk
Shiva on the sill,
All for the cause of the vortex.
For long rumbling hours all food neglected
Many things unsaid for multiples purposes.
And then I go.
The cabin creeks with Crowley
The room is almost vertical, the vortices
Eager to be seen
And the boat rocks beady on the waves
A sleeping ant on the raving
hills of water.
Weak sounds like Ibis whispers
Pelt the pane and
Rain and mind are one
So it is time.
I stand on the deck and witness
A star Viking hard in the hollows
Of space as if tamed and willing
To exorcise the world.
Great acres of darkness bloom with many flowers,
Extinct galaxies become illuminated,
The spring of another dimension filters in
Through the words above the rain, the intention
Of the conduit rhythmic
But hardly a shadow.
The majority of participation is unseen,
Unreal as this very poem yet
Symbols are thrown into the sea
Along with libations
And the wind screams beautiful obscenities
And a single strike of thunder strikes its approval
And the ferry vibrates like a phone to a tune unheard in this reality.