Scriptor Press - The ElectroLounge

66
xxiv. Manifesto
Sing not to mystery for what it knows
but where it beckons, path more wind
than words, words splint til they are
consumed. Holy emptiness rides through
the heart, shades chant living bell’s rise,
some hundred green leaves conjure from
dangling words & greater power still. When you
follow bring nothing but careening wish.
Sing not to mystery of grey clouds & lament.
What shines, what you follow, is not root
in daylight’s numbered throbbing nor midnight’s
robust thrashings. Nay. Words surround it in
corona’s tribute, beauty of girl & green scarve
its passage, the giving way heals, mercy
in release, in remembering without leash,
in foretell without cringe.
Sing not to mystery with a hustle to
preserve or grow or resist. The blunt ways
of men crumble among the stars. Kings &
preachers blow with the detritus. Lovers
find trenches where hearts so high once bleated.
Artists may join the whirl, the hurry & flow
from empty roads & contrived baubles, or lurch
back to inconsequence. Follow or diminish.
Sing not to mystery for the succumb of
that which lords. Manifestos residual of
empires forgotten, & music in persistent
rhythms & hard making beats. Each new
bursting seed rejoins its every brother.
What cozies tonight’s rain about me, what lasts
carries even the least along. Follow on until
the remain of these truths gives way.
***
The Cenacle / 54 / April 2005