This
was the blurb of Rapture:
--Warning for any inquirers, the bottom of the inside
is inscribed with words written in every rapture, The Lord Is My Shepherd.
Sorry about that. This was done on Aeyrie's birthday. It is in the round,
figures ascending in different stages and is like Opening the
Fifth Seal which shows the figures as a canvas. It takes a while
to understand these things, but I seem to have made countless images of
people flying up, at least since I wrote on a student's paper way long ago, what
do they do at the tops of mountains, children lifting pretty heads from pillow
beds? So not only here, but by interpretation of El Greco's Opening the
Fifth seal and in the end in Danby's Sixth Seal, in the process of being hung.
"It was all wrapped in these children
being born and flying around, "what do they do at the tops of mountains,
children lifting pretty heads from pillowed beds?...Raleigh says You rose
into the mountain air and nevermore were seen. I don't know if it answers
what children lifting pretty heads from pillowed beds were doing at the tops of
mountains, but right up until Once upon a time when it was dead and gone,
when one was enough and too much to be alive and well in Ameryca, the new found
land, a glory rose up into the head... Raleigh, the marigold in the sun's
eye, seems to write about it in his address to Queen Elizabeth in his poems of
1596 where his "first-born love...Restless desire from my love that
proceeded / leave to be and seek heaven by dying, since you, oh you, your own
hope have exceeded by too high flying."...So they are all children of St Branden who turn the cheek, spiritual children shall we say, who seek another country, full of mishap called justice. You see how fruitful the allegory is by result, even if there is so much effort in the history of America, the outer one, to find the inner. All the little pretty ones, utopias, Oneidas, so many more in two hundred years than all the world produced in its entirety... How can green know the red? I am what he was, within. It wouldn't change anything he did, not a certainty to be within what he was without, visible from the interior but not from the exterior. That's the play. The moon has opened up her eyes, like summer stars so soon they rise. Thirty years of absolute sobriety, with love. Of course these things are, but saying so in the same parlance requires that my ears hast Thou pierced, as Messiah said. Listening, hearing the revelation, he wakens me morning by morning to listen as one being taught, as when a slave in Israel, offered freedom after seven years, to continue in that service put an ear against a board where the owner pierced the lobe to symbolize his listening to him alone. The sublime writer carries this along from Psalm 40. Lo I come...I delight to do Thy will, O my Elohim: yea, the law is written in my heart, no certainty, and he knows nothing of the future, only the moment and past revised amid all failures and regret. Prophetic and at the same time impossible, nobody picking Calendar up forty years later would see anything symbolic in "A Conjunction of Planets," What lovers' open lips we are tonight in time the endless world, our minds unfurled. Symbol is defeated by propaganda, but propaganda cannot eradicate symbol, only neutralize it by saying it cannot be understood. These texts were to prepare the y to overcome the i, a reversal to which we all now have our attention drawn. I think Goya or El Greco said that. Souls in the egg, so all right world, Hatch and hatch. from Ameryca With a Y - Autobiography of a Poem
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