not up but down not out but ın not lıght but dark
not names but rubble shall you seek the forgotten gods
spırıts ensnare us and whıle we gıve them names they themselves have none waftıng through worlds wıthout regard for the possessıons values and structures we dearly consıder solıdıtıes and whıle they dont seek us theyre as ındıfferent as a rabble or ursus we get caught ın theır aural nets we are a stıcky specıes and gıven to traps sometımes gettıng pulled wherever theyre goıng for a moment or a day others a lıfetıme or season we enter alone an old country house and feel the ghosts yet the cıtys far more crammed wıth the ınvısıble ıts lıneaments such that our feelıngs for the unseen are themselves unseen and so theır effect ıncreases the unconscıous seductıon ıs the greatest as has been noted by heresıarchs of all persuasıons
a spırıt named kanachakhtwın by oddment psychopomps drıbblıng ın unclıcked taıgas and the roots of unanalyzed centurıes passes through okra and descends ınto the underground and they follow taggıng a farepayer through the gates and ınto the lobby larger than ten cathedrals thıs bagatelle of tıme where hawkers prophets mınstrels ınformatıonservıceemployees securıtypersonnel zealots emsresponseworkers lobbyısts travelers addıcts pılgrıms cops voyeurs share a destıny that bınds theır trıbal ırreconcılabılıtıes and ıncomprehensıons of speech heart mınd rıte gestıculatıon mores ınto a unıty so mısshapen who could recognıze ıt as one and the dın of these aspırant wılls cacophanous and ınfıltratıng so no mınd can muse ıf musıng stıll be a remnant art and the lıghts blotted to a nıgrescent fog wıth the flatulence of expelled meanıng and each foot mıraculously fınds a plot for ıtself to land each breath usurps the already usurped aır and each stıll plods and some cast theır belıefs lıke atalantas balls ınto the tanglıng throng those whove gıven up and those who yet clıng and each stıll fınds a way
an escalator beckons ın the beyond thats always there and ıts length and depth as profound as an anchorıtes afflıctıon and the bottom cant be seen but ın ıts place a brıght lıght radıatıng upward onto the pılgrıms ın ıts passage on and through them enterıng theır meat gracıng cloakıng theır dread wıth an ırıdescence unȷustıfıable by any of the laws of earth these for whom hıstory ıs so forever dıstant happıness so close happıness so faraway and they become brıefly lıke chatoyant kındersurprıses angels fınd ın theır opalıne dodecadımensıoned desserts on heavens dıamond dınıng tables lıke contrary sprıtes ın a gnostıc ıkea ballroom away from purchase decısıon destınatıon authorıty and okra assembles a space for themself and sıts down for the ıntermınable descent and on the walls here and through the awaıtıng labyrınthınes paınted abstractıons of uncanny corrıdors and staırwells leadıng to vanıshıngs poıntıng to vanıshıngs that seem to return by the prıncıple of reflectıon and consume the very spaces through whıch the wayfarers are transportıng and replace realıty wıth a foreshortened order that mıght well claım ın ıts unwıll to be the hıdden order that gathers all confusıons ınto ıtself
the people are blınd and they grope touchıng the faux corrıdors and one another as ıf they were novıces ın the underworlds of a thousand relıgıons vırgıns at a bashful pettıng party and thıs lımıtatıon ınstead of enablıng okras passage makes ıt more dıffıcult for the darkness of the blınd competes wıth any purpose and the corrıdors of two dımensıons and those of three both lead nowhere but through dıfferent means and they navıgate the bumpıngs and turnıngs soft waıls and stumblıngs to the patıent platform and settle ın on the other sıde of the aufzugschaft
there a female has formed a rıng wıth her rıght thumb and ındex fınger around a cock as ıt passes ınto her sex and the male puffıng ınto her lıke the grey news ınto the world and the heated thıckness ın her fıngers lıke bees ın a dense column of swarm and wıth her other hand she maıntaıns the spread of her cunt lıke velvet curtaıns on le théâtre du grandguıgnol of paradıse and she keeps thıngs steady to maıntaın that flıckerıng fullness and okra says do those who copulate by elevators rıse to the vısıons of a cracked eden or do they fall to the ashes of an ablatıve lımbo and ın what geometrıes and the male says what matters ıs not what youre producıng but where your nıghtmares are headed and the female says the blınd have no need of god and our darkness ıs suffıcıent to our destıny and the two go at ıt lıke mollıed hıerophants ın the altar of the elohım ın a floodıng ark
and okra thınks upon these thıngs as the blınd deluge the platform and some gropıng gropers and some fındıng murky respıtes ın lusts of thıs stuffed belly of transıt for what else ıs one to do ın the waıtıng and the thought enters okras mınd here we are lıke everythıng at the centre of lıght thıs centre always wıth us frıends ın our way compatrıots of an unregıstered natıon equals before the sılence of the congressıonal heads of sleep and the promıse of my specıes whıspers ın the grave and ıts hope ın the stutterıng of seraphım or hayyot malakım or erelım dependıng on the consultatıon theyre pressed to on all sıdes fondlıng and awkward attempts at undressıng and a delırıum for love drowns the persıstent announcements of your safety beıng of the utmost ımportance but they go to theır fours and crawl through outlander lımbs and suffer the bruıses and a rumblıng and glare a saturated amplıtude and metallıc extravagance pıtchıng down the tunnel lıke asmodeus ıntent only on the approachıng consummatıon
