13/Gin & Tonic

But words, Madonna, shall ne’er approximate your acts:
the parabola of reason is the icy declension of your heart
that leaves, upon its wake, bodies archeologic
stallions of mind prancing in everywhere caves:

Thus you flute, Madonna, an eternal fruit of journeys
which—long & bitter—has spinned your all:
Why heart is mind, mind is heart
Wisdom of common realm, loinlock of Tyger & Lamb
How arrowmen in their folly drink their own hot blood
to keep hearts pulsing, perform ambiguous tasks:

O You have seen, but will not see
O Yu have known, but will not know
O you have spoken, but will not speak—
Ever landlocked at the circle of Inevitable,  Blur
All beauty, Madonna,
All evil
All hope
Ravage the matrix of symbols, limits of the word.

Mediatrix in this room, avenging seeress, eternal women-childe
The world lies mute as a dragon licking your icy feet—
Slowly, like the fall of leaves,
You let loose remembrances of all things false & human
Draw in your tongue to rule a universe of sounds:

& in one tempestuous flash of eyes
You blot out all darkness, all light
To sleep beyond sleep, dream beyond dreams

& fly beyond flight.

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