Friday, February 13, 2015

Cantos 24 - Space Trilogy

 out of the  silent  planet


It Has some time to reflect upon itself,
 and in thinking a moment on its wayward place
 it stops a moment to reflect,  and deflect,  on itself.
 and with in that moment,  stops to stare.

 it finds no little grace in its bare complexity,
 known little face that hides its dunfacity,
 no little time to wonder what it would have done,
 if it had only known her,  but she was unformed.

 and how now could it have made it through a day,
 when she was his life and more,  and more.
 each little object that he be held,
 each little moment could only be held in taking.

 for how was each moment to be made whole,
 except by the remembering of how it would seem.


 I do not think you understand what homosexuality means,
 for even the other kind of intersects
 has reasons for being that way from time to time,
 because it revolves around the other self.

 it can be furitive,  intersects between the lines of vision,
 even if it does not wish,  it wants instead,
 a different thing if you have ever experienced
 that longing limb from limb which every one desires.

 even if they do not know it,  and hide it beneath their brow,
 because even the hetro  needs to have the Homo
 if only for describing what it is they feel
 in a mood that they do not wish to have ascribed a name.

 because what else is may be if even imagined
 by myself for myself to myself and beyond.


 what ways could I be which made myself different
 if they cannot have a difference ascribed to
 bitter sex of bitter sex,  and hidden under the ground
 it is not what we want of our selves

 but the reverse,  that can only be imagined in other rents
 than these we have made for our selves to be  subscribe to
 and paid in furrow  cleansings at the charge of a  a cord
 it is not what we want of our selves.

 if reverse is the converse and all its differences,
 realize to their is not one opposite but to
contra positive of the difference changed
 that only another difference would recognize as different.

 we each have two distinct differences in our keen
 even if we do not know the opposite from the other.



 it divides down into male which isn't pale,
 and female which is all to  feminine for anyone's taste.
 out of the silent planet was in some sense mail,
 as this is in some sense the  female but not of a kind,

 which we would like to discuss in our parents houses,
 but instead take to the side room,  and mull  upon it in twos and threes
 and tell we decide we need had enough of that and wandered back
 to other things which were cozy in their strangeness.

 from the first time he stepped on to fluid Earth,
 and looked behind him and saw that he was the opposite of the devil,
 and new that he and only he would have a decisive verb
 with which to play on devils and God's alike,

 and which was which he did not know,
 because even the devil has is due.


 there once was a plan,  which remade  under other pressures
 which even I did not understand at the time,
 I had a vision for this set of Cantos which was complete,
 but utterly unmade before the task at hand - sophism

 it is all but  sophism,  and one might say out of hand
 for who but a sophist would have the  soliloquies
 at hand,  for which to bother unmade stories and rituals
 that would make the  naked and naïve Naga  to real.

 and that which by reeling steals the key that makes
 something magical become something real
 as if to say that nothing magical really existed at all,
 but which was made unreal by its reality.

 and which by its  unreality is made flesh
 and Stone on the gourd of existence made sinew.


 if there is anything left to tell I do not know
 and perhaps never did because whose to know what can't be known?
 it was, perhaps, a dream and missed a nightmare becoming dream,
 if you know what You know as it means,
 a Rubicon to cross,  a mystery inside  riddle inside an enigma.

 that is what Churchill called it,  and who am I to question
 the sharp witted,  but  ponderous,  relaying of his own story.
 but it was the only story which could be returned,
 and made to buy its falsity,   real and imagined going

 back to Marlboro  victory over  and  untold enemy who was not even a country
 but the back waters of imagination which was
 perelandra,  oh so far in two it's upper tail it climbed,
 until it was a figure by Asher  or Escher,  it doesn't matter which
 because everything that is known is but a dream, but a story

 and if you dream of it,  it will become your story as well,
 and you will tell it as if someone had told to you,  even if it is the first time.

   that hideous strength


 remorseless and we counter a rendering at the rendezvous
 to match a renegade to renegotiate a renewed reticence
 as if by remarque  and reminisce the reminiscent remise
 of remantle  remolade,  that is her one

 note I see her and not Her,  because it's not her that I speak,
 but something else illusory as social sodium carbon.
 and one of my essay what is I question in this form
 so  oblique as to even question my name.

 because I in the story,  am concerned with petite  little things
that are not worth the trouble to even think
 let alone dream upon in an unmade reality
 which is the closest thing to unmaking  the reality.

 for who's to know which is which and who is who,
 if lovers cannot be made to sale the difference.


 soft hearted and  softy  in a social service kind of way
He  did not know what had become of sociology of socio-economic
 he was trying to figure out what he could do,
 not realizing that he was insignificant to Them

 it was his wife that mattered,  and she could be lullaby to
 submission and lucerne,  breaking at a glance.
 because everything was made by one who calls himself
  Luftwaffe,  though he does not speak his name in vain.

 Luna moth you are waiting inside the wings of man
 behind the second Earl of Essex who is waiting essonnite,
 with which he will make soft stone hard,  as soft  can be.
 it was a dream if dreams may come to stare at the presence of the man.

 and if you do not know what unmade fortunes  I am saying,
 realize it is true for everyone,  especially me.


 it was estrous found in  estuarine  because only the feminine,
 had been lacked in the very masculine advance.
 he was not very masculine,  truth be told
 he did not have the ripple of manliness about him,
 he did not have anything better than Pereladre trained human.

 which was not saying much at all,  and even less than that.
 he was smooth where he should have been hard,
 he was  desk set,  when he should have been  rugged,
  and these were his stronger points,   of few that remained

 what is a man,  but a woman who is half asleep,
 to  perch and plunder a few sharp genes and no more,
 but they are ragged to behold, and stronger than they look.
 because they and theirs,  do rule the world,  by hardening that woman

 who can do everything but create a story
 and   bring grace to  a baby which is not born.