MCCAHON(OCOSM/OCLASM)


For Martin Edmond

Wrestling with the angel          in a stolen land
in the dark          shouting out          hoping for a response
that isn’t just          a solipsistic echo          like John the Baptist
announcing the coming of          a Rothko dawn burning the horizon
the hinder parts of Yahweh          in a Newman zip
Lineaments of reality are insufficient          I will need words
not more masking tape          the Kauri at Tits
are the pillars of His House          shattering the universe
into facets that can be          viewed from all sides          simultaneously
The light finds          a way through          like faith into
the questioning darkness          the Chapel Perilous of their
cypress scholastic hoods         I will need words
not just of King James’ English          the primordial pre-Babel
of te reo          I am I          I am
I AM          all purged away in the          pale glory of a
Damascene epiphany          ecstasy          transcendent immanence
in the public pisser near the Palm Grove           Sydney Botanical Gardens
Art and revelation          and gut rot          can’t coexist          IAM
in the same mortal engine          for longer
than it takes          matter and          antimatter
to annihilate each other

I AM  

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