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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