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Romances for String

20 July 2003

Threshold Publishing Company
PO Box 4033
Blaine, Washington 98231

The Soul of Autumn

As the Summer reigns,
A joy becalms the soul of Autumn,
And in the precincts of her Love
She is all abandoned to desire,
This Love, this Prince, this Charletagne,

And she will not be taught
Not by Wisdom of her Sages,
Not by lessons harder-sought;
And I at length,
Have been refused

In the deepest contemplation of my pain,
I have been chilled,
For none had climbed the height of such Despair
As soul of Autumn,
None had jarred the Sanctum of my peace
With stronger cry

And there were Two;
There went She and I;

But this is fond illusion,
O my Soul,
For as soul to soul hath fled
She would fast forsake
To fill a lover’s bed.

For this, I had been warned,
For seasons of my suffering,
As long her shadow yawned,
I was forewarned.

One day, I will be healed,
Hastened by Eusebius,
A whole, to Beauty yield,
And the loss, so late, of Autumn
Will be then revealed.

20 July 4:35
Cancer nach Leo

Eusebius goofs off again
And listens to a rehearsal of Mozart from a time warp in the 21st Century

Don Juan Suite

The fencing scene replays again
On shifting, white patina
In a theatre far away
Orchestras are tuning in the pit
Just below my chair,

I am Eusebius, I know that hand,
Kissed by flesh,
And washed by flesh alike
My keepers are my Band
Slain by Proprium
Constrained by Willingness, alike,
I wait the Order of the Fall
To set my Maid aright.

We will dine at Eisenstadt,


The Latter Days

The hope of These
The latter Days
Of Saints,

Is stained
Is Refrained,

Is Ained,

die Bilder zum Mir noch entraint
Gibt uns unser Dienst
die Blauen augen
die Schauen mir
in Nacht,
Die Koenigen des nachts


The Impatience of the Age
These wait
But only in the sanctum of the Temple
Do they listen to their conscience;
Outwardly, the press of Time returns
And trust is never given when unearned
They do not wait;
And though my time is come indeed
And proved;
They do not wait.

29 Juni


Though comfort’d in Sanctuarium
I weep; for all that has been done and done;
All that, rendered perfect, has Become
For it is Done,
And so I wait, to end my time
To end the grosser State
I am bereft,
and while the rest of Man is locked in hot embrace,
I am dis Graced
For all have gone;
And only I am left.

29 July (sic)
29 Juni Baden-Baden
2:30 p.m.

The 11th Step

Whereupon I pause,
Without the Stain
God placed upon my Soul
I am here Made
From death instate
To rebegin so soon
to see the hand
so late.

29 Juni


The sacrifice of Lust is made complete,
And I remain, unmoved
My joy is not yet Replete;
For my love cannot longer be rended from my arms
She is within me now,
The Dichterin
I am now whole;
My marriage is complete.

Day of the Empress
30 Juni-03 2:00 p.m.

The New Math

and Seven, and One, Make Five

And this is how the Wicked stay alive,
We are Wicked to be bless’d another Season
We are His men, and we wait,
With patience of the Age upon ourselves,
We are Holy, to be wrought to Gold
Within His golden Temple,
Alone, to preserve His Sacred Sound
We have our Prince;
And we have the wisdom of his Perfect Reason.

30 Juni nachmittags

The Then, the Now

I wonder, as I pause
In silence,
In the wonderment of contemplation
In the Now,
Which is sweeter,
the memory of sweetness
I never had forgotten
Now renewed?
Or the fresh Original
Never yet expressed
And sweetly New?

For C.L. 1854 autumn

Der Letzten Tag den Juli

The echo of my once created Song,
Drafted in the coldest lonely Winter
Ever thus, the inner season of the Frost
Betrays the Summer’s outward calm.

For Beauty here, abounds,
The joy and play, the festivals of Summer
Though I know another ending
As the Endings doth begin.

I am upheld
Not shaken so entirely by Fame,
My Fame has ended as a newer Fame impends,
The Shem withdrew as I am strengthed by Skeld.

The Horror comes.
Unrealized, this Circumstance
Long and long-impelled,
I will not stay the horror of the Eld,
My friends have taken Suit
and draw along my path
I will be upheld
As Horror waits to free me from the Skeld.

They are with me today,
an Allgemein of three are won and lost in play,
It is the end of things for these
I cannot speak so loud
To make this pain appease.

the falsely friendly are not choosed
they will martyr soon
As Mars and Saturn loose.



Fast before beginning
Soon to End
another destiny, as yet unwrit, awaits,
They calm, they break, they storm
All around the Kraft of Kunst aborns.

My sibilants, my brethren, soon my Sohn,
Branded by inebriate
Broiled under One
The Symphony begins for Me,
The little Song, begun,
Eusebius returns to take the Lied.

he wakes,
As sooner dies the profligate in State
My shade, appalled, inebriate
He Quakes.

for Eusebius, awakening,
31 Juli 03

Autumn, at Summer
Summer, fast Autumn

Oh we were Quelled!
Harried in the Fast-unquaking Time
I cannot uproot Him
If I cannot win this time
But must it be,
The staying of the Clock must fast be bred
some Waste is heard to dark
And will be Redd.
the Will at last, be Read/Red
Let Dragon counter
Till the Angels, weeping, flee,
They are not so Reich as We.

Oh Waste,
In the Lately sacred Hour
Will not yield
Can I conquer quickly
So that Winter can be Healed?
This I doubt,
Healing cannot be dealt
By merest Doubt.

And She will not be Welled
Only tried by Proprium
Her trial soon is Held
I cannot speak
For I am old, and Elled
This lately sacred joy will find me Skeld.

For I discover, I am spared,
Permanently safe,
Though surely scared,
The Continent whereon I journeyed long and cared,
For this, I cannot be spared.

And what of He,
More worthy to be won
by all Important Mien,
He surely is not wasted to be Liened
What of He, cannot be cared?

Alas, I weep,
Though I am overjoyed
The World is safe
Though much of Me, destroyed,
And I am Whole,
Though She be full-destroyed
There is wisdom in the Purpose
As the Change will be Employed
My Talent will be plotted
And my Prose, enjoyed.

Fast unto Autumn,
to the Summer roughly Come,
Fast unto Winter
Is the Beating of the Drum.

1-8-03 = 12 = 3
Day of the Empress


Today I doubt,
For even as the summer passes quickly in this bout
I am stormed,
Threatened by the hope of He who borns,
Eusebius awakes.
For when He comes
What pathway will I take?
I cannot be slaved to Egoist
Nor slake the passion of the falsely happy
Who are well refused

Oh I doubt
Because of me
The Death is lain about,
and due to my mistake,
Johannes may be born a bit too late.
I choose not the season of the Allegemein
My mind is turned to German
and in the interstices, find
Eusebius is not too far behind.
He will out!
In beauty,
In the lyric of my Doubt,
The swelling up of something
Will come out.
in Zweifel, 2 aug, Weinheim

The yearning

Of my empty
Uninspired hand
Uncomposed, and limpid
From the Wellspring of repose,

I am Romanced,
Emptied out of passion
And bereft of song and dance
I seek the empty solitudes
The Soul of me has glanced,

The yearning

of my empty
Uninspired hand
Will rise to pluck the promise of my Dream
And reinspired
Wake the passion
That for now is barely seen

10 Aug 03

The Even of the Summer

When evening came
In trembling
The fuller to be met by host unworthy
I was slain by these
The angry and the lost
The profit-seeking genie
That counts so little cost…

I am little cost to these
The hosts unworthy
Who believe I am but dross
And yet,
The price is still too high
For these


My Joy

Has leapt from Prophecy
Through pain
I have endured the summer swelter
And await the Autumn rain

Will I see, on this old Land
The coming of the Rain
Will Autumn be my loss
And I return to pain?

This I cannot know
This day is lost to trembling
For I am banked but low
I open both my hands
And cannot see, but know
I cannot help the present plight
And cannot help
But know.


From Distance

I behold the Beauty
That is ever mine to keep
My Art is but a moment
‘Ere I shine

Something waits, as yet unnamed
And presses me to music and to rhyme

This drama must remain
To slay the demonkind
I am removed from them
And must not look behind

They are the roughest sort of Allegemein
These ignorant
Who sought my soul to bind…


Romance 1

What rises in my sleep
And draws me out
This inspiration will not keep
Nor linger
In the precinct of Repose

For soon He wakes
The conquerer of Emptiness
The E that doth compose
He takes the inner child of me
That does not think,
But knows,

Eusebius my shade
Will soon compose.


The Last Day of August

He dies.
Before the light imperious
As Love and Light reprise
I am blind today
To the promise of my fair tomorrows

I am bereft
And cannot choose the theme
To weep upon
There are too many losses
For my heart to break upon

This grief, I cannot fight
Nor can I deny
That something waits
Unknown, and uncreated
On the Stone

This night
As I grope in darkness,
I count the bills of yesterday, unpaid
The little that remains to me
My cost

There is little left to lose,
As late I count my cost
There is endless grief today
As late I feel my loss.

19 Aug-03
upon the Change


The mortar and the stone
I linger, stopping brief
And tarry not to sleep.
Oh slow, I cannot be;
I am surrendered to the hope
Of fair tomorrow

I have lingered long in anger
And drowned too much in sorrow
I am late;
My pride has dwindled errant
From the lack of Discipline
I am still unholy
And my fear
Is much too great.


Romanz 2

O Florestan
The bold Original
Of which that Name is but reflection;
He comes to me abed
As I lay weary;

Who invented you, my sprite
Who leaps ahead of boldest inspiration?
What deep inquiry piques me
To the whimsy of Your light?

O lover of my deepest inclination
I am Geliebte
For your Greater inspiration
And rise to joy
To join this dance
Of hot creation.

For Florestan

The Last Day of August (II)

This grief, I cannot fight
Nor can I deny
That something waits
Unknown, and uncreated
On the Stone

This night
As I grope in darkness,
I count the bills of yesterday, unpaid
The little that remains to me, my cost

There is little left to lose,
As late I count my cost
There is endless grief today
As late I feel my loss.

19 Aug 03
upon the Change.

Oh Many

Were the changes
That I put myself through then
In solitary maunderings of soul;
I wandered,
Solitary, free
I was jaded, Egoist
My grief was swallowed whole

Many were the hopes
That pinned me into Now
Few to be fulfilled
Lesser then the light
That I had sooner skilled

I lose my light so freely
When my passion is distilled.


I Long for Thee

With empty hands,
Devoid of Music
And so poor, and uninspired
I am engulfed
In wanton life Material
I fled from Light
Into the insubstantial

I have nothing
To devote to thee
I have little but my Lust
To offer Thee,
I am the uninspired lover
Who you may never see

And still this empty,
Endless night,
I long for Thee.


The Moment of Change

And is my prayer now answered
Or has this moment of change,
Starkly contrasted to the previous,
These months wherein I raged,
Been made a play,
A gross distraction from the toil of years?

This, I cannot say
The lamp, now emptied
Does not illuminate
The fleeing of my soul
From Day.


Das Letzten Mal
In Baden-Baden

I prayed,
How long I prayed
For Sarah and her children,
For these long months
I wept and played,
I listened and was made full
By that which Altestier
Had promised ill;

I was not ready
For the ending of my days
The funeral of my former self
Had echoed out of sighs
Breathed from out of books
Sung from orchestras
And I was through
Fuller to be fallen
From this Ruh

I go quickly,
The quicker to be greeted by the Fall
I am the Angel of the Small.


Bay of Biscay

The ocean looms ahead
Cold, fresh
That curtain holding me apart
From the legacy of Time
How I lingered, fearing Time
And that bright promise
Of all that once was mine
I go from here with speed
To make the claiming
That was ever mine
Once denied,
Now late and Rhein.

Day of the Emperor

The Resonance

Of this Return,
Subdued, on holiday
Imbued with unfamiliarity
Yet old,
And older than the youth
Misspent by age
I remember much
Since being here before
And little,
Since the I has never lived before

I live again, among the legacies
The monuments
Descendants of the blood
That courses through the selfsame breast
We share the history of blood
We bear a legacy in common

The power that I feel so fresh, so new
And hopeful, springing forth
Enlivens me, and sets me fast
Upon a new and stronger course
I am renewed by these
My cousins and my brethren in the blood,
What comes of these
Is naught but Good.



The sky impends
With cloud, with sunshine
And with hopeful crowds
Who know their wisdom
And who are not shy
To show their happy pride
They are at home
At length, and after all
This weary travel,
So am I.


The Intimacies

I never felt loved
So utterly, and so completely
As by you, in my exigency
In present need
In longing of the fiercest, deep desire

In the waning summer heat
As Autumn soon impends
I feel the depth of passion
As I never felt before

My lover and myself
That rival that I sooner sought to quell
You quicken me to new Creation
And am held
To beauty bright
You cannot be quelled…

For F
In his bold desire


Remind me of the secret joy we shared
You held me weeping in the night
When you fulfilled me
I am yours entire, Beauteous
I am slain and drawn to tears
By this unspoken passion,

Oh Love, I am overwhelmed
By the pleasure of your touch
I tremble with anticipation of your kiss;
You are a dream of joy to me
This pleasure, overmuch.



The world changed, the night we met. I was a regular at Coffe Baum, though there was no telling when I would disappear from the table on the obscure mission, when inspiration struck me, and I was never questioned on these disappearances. I was at the penultimate moment when my glass was empty, and I hesitated before calling the taverner once again, because the increasing urge to bolt for the evening was on me, Emil had captivated the group with another story I had heard too many times at school, and I was fading into that ennui that tempted me to return once again to my heap of uncompleted work.

(from The Erotic Etudes)

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Romances for String (section 3)

My Wickedness

Is echoed by your own,
My Love, my Geliebte
You, the Woman on the throne,
I am not in exile
Nor unknown,
Nor are you slave
To He who holds the Krone,

You, deceased in living death
Are dead to me this day
I will then, turn away.

For my Love,

My Song

My Theme
My inner voice
Sings true
I sing my lust
I sing of longing true
I wish today
The Man I was to be,
I had no choices
Nor ever wandered, free.

I am now Strong
The heaven home
The heaven-blest
The Free
Remain in light
As I would want to be.


My sadness

Overwhelms my joy
And crushes me to ground
I am crushed
My death has borne me down.

I am betrayed
Again, again
She wears me down.
I am disMayde.
Today, I am betrayed.



Oh these proud days
I remember
All the little kindnesses unspoken
All the love that light
Was mine to slake
I am renewed by the gentle touch of Grace,
Softened by the water of the Lake.

Kei: take me to the lake
Let all our brokenness be healed
As countenances break

This is my rebirth
Let Breath and Life
Revivify the Earth.

19.07.04 = 21
over Labrador

22 at 44

I was 22
When I was 24
Divided, as it were
In Two,
Stumbled off of Proprium
Given by the New
I shall, in Two.

in Luft

The Weariness

Has sunk me down to Sleep.
I am saline by They
Whose wickedness won’t keep
I wish that I might rest
I wish that I might join
The cadre of the Best.

At Rest

24 07 04


Unbridled lost, at play
I cannot cease to want you, Love
I cannot stay away.
My passion, thus engaged
Will not staunch, nor keep
Your flavor’s scent
Will drive me from my sleep

This lust, my darling,
Will not keep
I must away
And in the throes of passion hot
Must play...

In his Wickedness.


These two

As different they as night
And shadowed dawn
Provoke some lesson
That is wrought upon my soul

Today, I am not so wise,
Full of judgements
Of the lusts I now revise,

I am in them, and lately
Grow surprised

They may yet learn
I am not wise.

For Alex and Kat

Foreign to me

The passion of the hour
The touch of flesh
As passionate as power

I have not lived
To see this day of bright awareness go
I have not believed myself so slow

I am a foreigner
To my own body now
I am of a sex that does not know itself
Nor find its opposite
Ere now.



Forgotten Fame,
My shade is poorly dead
And better Maid
We have no wept together
While our Bed is made
We have enlightened
By the posture of the Staid
And by the chalice and its holy Blood

R.S. Neuestier
Der Erstes Mal
In Juli

Der Tod Des Zornigen Componists
August 2004 Gegrundet

Speak, Love,
Remember us well met
Unpleasant and rewet.


Equinox 2004

I have my devil’s instrument
The God has bid me use
I have my conscience
Thus reused
In innocence and glee
There is new innocence in me,
Grounded in the infinite
In cold sincerity
That is all God asks of me
This day;
To cease to wonder why
To go and do
And doing, do not die.

I wish that I be spared
The destruction of the damned
To stand, a witness
To the chastening of those
Who would be lost;

For I was Lost
I feel the pain of these
My brethren who yet reign
They may be rich
With wealth material,
They may feel themselves
But they are lost.

And when they fall
The anger of their madness
Will appall.
And mark me well today
These great will fall.

After the decision.


As it were,
Remettled from a calmer cast of coins
I am unfettered
From the destiny I sold
I may venture forth again, retolled

The toll is sounded fast
Upon the drum
The morrow’s fate
For we, the seven million,
Is begun.

Lincoln Center

11:11 on 11.11

I find myself anew
The language is askew
Reboldened, life is kindled
In the Slough
And all around
Is new.

You are lighted
Once again
Within my loins
Thy beauty, ageless
Grandiose and light

Oh sweet,
Return to me
I am of Light again,
And sweet,
Return to me again.

10.02.04 (sic)


In this far flung
And foreign place
The Comforter in form deceives,

I will, I willed, I willed it
Otherwhere, and not in this
Tiny new pavilion

I willed it otherwise
With she, the Priestess
Of a dark, unholy love

What of the Innocent
Before me now
Who does not deem me evil

What of they,
Protective of her power
Lending her the trust
She grants to me today?

These things are not of self
This passion is not new
What courses through my body now
Is neither good, nor true,

What use have I of body
On a vast, unholy stage?
It is my vehicle
My temple
And my lens
It grants me pleasures
As my means
And not my ends;
The place I go
I dare not say
The path of me, must end

I will not stay
I cannot stay
The Autumn storm

In Sanctuary
For Edward


And she, and she returns
The hatred of the Winter
Has returned;

I am sick and broken
With the lust of other days
My love, my blondine bright
Her looks turn me away,

Her hate turns me away
Because of her reversal dark
I must now go,

on the 27th birthday of Lucinda

Her pain has received my want
Her anger has perceived my want.
For these long years,
I loved in want.

Oh Loves

Romanced and minor-keyed
Loudly clanging
In the ears of need

There is no end to this
Mournful desperate song
The emptiness
That filled my life awrong.

I am in these desperate
And unholy
I am strong
And we are coldly, coldly,


Nigh unto Dark

I return
In beauty bright
The glory of my Time is come
My days are made complete

From rife and ruin
From the edge of sleep
I wake, renewed
I wake to haunt the Deep

The longest Darkness
Has at last been quelled
And soon, again...
I sleep.



Approaches me, at last
The warrior, to Rest, is come
Retreat had conquered me to shame
I lay alone,
Long did I lie, alone

And so I came again
To gladness, to the Baden,
Where I sang.
Again, unshamed
Returns the soul of me to Main.

I am filled to past rejoicing
I am glad
It was not so grand
To be alone and mad.

Nach Seattle


The brave, unconquered soul
Who speaks to me of Nights
Rarely have I seen a youth
Both innocent and bright.

You gladden me, and fill my day
With cheer
You brighten me
With beauty,
And with tears.


Psalm of the Fallen

When I fail
To sing your praises
I am fallen.
When I rise to greet your Light
I am risen.


Oh Florestan

Who can conquer
Beauty unencumbered
None will defeat Thee
In the coming of the Ruh,
You are the tie
Upon my Schuh.



I am released
In light of the Eclipse
I am new-made
A sprite
The energies of dissolute abandon
The fury of my long-borne strife
Completed by the time
The moon waxed full
I am now full
And fuller to be fallen
Into Ruh
I have naught but sleep
To occupy my mind
I have been wholly blessed
Yet newly blend
This beginning is but redolent with grace
And Eusebius returns

Upon Eclipse

Bay of Biscay (II)

The Ocean yawns behind me
As behind, the lesson of another life
Another death, unbinds
I must needs seek a Death
The Life Eusebius demands of me
As hostage to the birth of Grace,
I must needs suffer
As befits my place
The Warrior, reborn with Christian face,
I must now lose, to dissolution
For this claiming to be made
In haste

Oh did I hasten to that death
Of life unholy,
Contaminated by the desiring
Of Fame,
Oh Fame has nothing
But desired me,
My pain done nothing
But inspired me.
And so I choose, instead
That smallest moiety of Fame
And that, yet drenched in hallowed Pain
When do I but love,
And in the loving
Make my way;

It seems that I am built
To merely one design
And that, of death
So hastening my flight into my Heimat
Comes transition that is all
Eusebius will ever have of Death,
For today he has no power
To extinguish me with arts of Fame,
He cannot win this game.

over the Bay of Biscay

The End of the Beginning

Before I speak the words of wakening
Before I sing, the better to begin
The litany of Woe
Let me pause, in this,
Rededicate the passion
That is mine to know.

I am remade,
By days and by degrees
Of knowing
I have the power of my flesh
Renewed by Spirit
Enlightened by the burning of my Breath

I am consoled
By Egregore
By Circle
And by Keep;

For this great Work
I am ensouled.

So take me, Lord
The Great who keeps his promise
You have given me my place
On Himmel’s land

Make me blessed;
So that I might win tomorrow
I wish for Innocence regained
I wish the greatness of humility, tomorrow

For today must end
The wonder of my newest joy,
Must end.


The Devil in the Main

Words are different
In the mouths of liars
And deception is the course
Another hour

I have returned,
To portray some Truths to these
For this I need the Voice to speak Decree

I am now Bound;
As, freed by Altestier
My spirit is Renowned
We are Sound
The better to be suited
To this Round.



By Fate, by Circumstance
By Lies
I am belied
By wantonness and pride;
These are with me
Brethren of a most peculiar Kind
These are the consciousness
I call the Allegheny

These I know
As though I never hoped
I would be so lost to Fiend;
These brethren meek
Who labor in the Schloß
Whom I call the Allgemein;

The moment tolls
The Bills are weak
They are of little mind
The secrets of the Temple
I will keep
For members of the Allgemein

The Order is too weak
Too thick and Blind
These are the aspirants
Who plague the Allgemein

The brethren are the Meek
Consoled by this
My muted pride
I have conquered
And am blessed
By the Allgemein.

29, 30.10.04

Nach Frankfurt, Nach München

The trial of today
Soon ends
The pain of my most recent ending
Soon will pass;

All my disappointment
All my smaller pains
Are washed into the insignificant
And yet, I stand.

And yet, my undefeated will must stand
In its new place
Undimmed by frustration of the Time

This day will end
The winter soon will come
The night impends
And signal the beginning
OF the End.


2 November
Auf den Wahl

Where I have gone, the time has ended;
The rush of mad sensation
Now has ceased.
My pain has ceased
As I find the new beginning
In the East.

I am in Bayern now
My colleagues are all new
And speak in strange and stranger tongue;
The desperation of my days
Has ended now
And soon I see
Another form of end.

So sleep soon comes
The sooner that I sing my soul to rest
The rest will come
I am abstinent
From those who travel
To the Son.

I am alone
Th esooner to have found
My new-found Home

And I am not alone.

2.11.04 mitternacht

And Now

My death, by soul Decree
Is made complete.
Eusebius at length
Has breathed his last
And now is free.

As I, now free of those
Encumbered bones
That music
That was the last of me,

Though I came, and died
I was made free;
And though the Passion of the New
Waxed hot
It leaves me be

For once, I travel calm
Unhurried now
Into the paths of Dawn.

So briefly did he live again
Before the Veil was torn
But as all such deaths must come
He lives in me.

The Wraith, the Altestier in Pain
He wept a centuy and more
Inside my brain
Though he is dead, he lives again
In the ivory and the keys
That is how Eusebius is pleased.

My Allgemein, my Deutschland
Is no more
But all is well
I feel the peace of unity
Far more.

In memory
Of He I laid to rest.


I feel the beginning of a sense of true peace. I left this land in August of 2003, nearly bleeding from the pain of departure, for the soul of Altestier still wandered, still wept, and still regretted. I know I must return. Every cell inside me cried out for my return, and I could not bear the thought I may not return. For I left my corpse, my soul, my former spirit, wandering. And he would wander, haunting me as I played the piano, and animate my nights, electrify my dreams, and enflame my passions, until I returned.

I thought, all along, that this returning was a permanent thing, a remove, to Deutschland. And I was wrong. For almost the moment I returned I was released. The spell was lifted, and the haunting of my dreams had ceased.

My corpse of former days,
My Altestier
At peace
He is now, and finally


The Last Day of July
At Antioch

St. Joseph had a gift for me
He made me play my part
That is why I spent my days
In penalties
And hearts

The sceptre of my father
Is my chains
Rattles cages of the Daemon
Long unsought
But Tesar is the youth
Who took my pains
And blessed is the Truth
That spills our stains.

For the last July of the day.


The Ironies

My despair, my sacrifice, my pain
Sum today to count too little
To refrain;

I await another life at Altestier
Where Death had done me wrong.

My chance was then; and wrong.
How gladly did I rise
To meet that Demon Death?

My return to Antioch
Was suffering yet blessed
My wounds and wrongs regiven
To my past, redressed

I am retressed
Which Life my Altestier


Exotic Etudes

At the moment of my new regeneration
Sleepily reminded
Of my uncertain station
I creep forward
Step by step
Soon renewed,
And Charmed.

San Francisco

Newark Nach Frankfurt

To greet the precinct of my Pain
Again I go from sun
And plunge into the Rain.
Will I feel the bright despair
That launched the thousand Lies untrue?
Will this new exotic lover
Not be You?

I cannot say;
But this I know
I cannot waste this chance
To be renewed;
I must ahead and Play,
To now, from then,
I must away.

Newark > Frankfurt

Did I know?

The diamond of my indomitable Will
Could not be shattered by this test?
Did I see the wonder
Of my former life unfold?
My gift will not be sold
For the challenge that awaits me next
I must be both brave and bold
This sinner’s wait
Has long grown old.


The Lion

And so I go, alone,
The child of my own awakened soul
I had the spark
The Lion in the Land
He has given me his troth
And steady hand.

Das Erstes Mal
In Saarland

Do I come
Naked in the stream
Does my Tesar comfort me
With Jude
I laughed in the middle
Of my night of pain
I fogged
But I did not conquer rain.

Für Tesar

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Lethe in Amerika (II)

At the crossroads
West of Hannover
Lies Lethe’s mighty water
Red with blood of yesterday
Remembered not for slaughter

Thousands weep, and yet they mourn
For Skulander’s decree
That stops the world in ignorance
As late begins the dawn

At the crossroads
North of Madison
Our destiny is full
As Bessus runs, Iskander wakes
As Red becomes the Bull.

13.09.03 = 15

And So, We Play

On the old land
Another knew,
When he was young

The Weeping of the Autumn

Grounded here
As summer has refused retreat
The wind is fond on flesh
And I am weary.

(undated, 2003)

Darmstadt, 7 März, 2004

I am here,once again
In the place I can’t remain
Abroad, refrained
For here, I am restrained

America has claimed again
My soul,
My heart is torn asunder
Emotions have grown cold,

Here, I cannot stay
My spirit bides its time
This haven is not yet
The home I cannot have
This heaven, not yet mine.

Darmstadt Staatstheater

Basileus, Reduced

The world inside the world
Inside the world within my head
Recursively reveal to me the hosts of living dead;
Am I the Muse to these
Dwellers on the Atlantean threshold?
I cringe, my courage fails me soon
And I am weak.

Messiach! I am not a host to the pervid Dark!
Release me and lend strength to fight
The weakness of the Stark;
I must Defender be,
The youth, undaunted,
Laureled, free..
Undefeated, by Apollo's grace
As I was meant to be.


The Last Day of June

It has been writ
The gathering storm impends
I am unloosed
Unchartered, and reduced

Remused, by Profligate
Whose sweetness is his Song
I will not be used to late be wrong.

My other self, my Florestan
My Love,
Has drawn me into Love
My Liebling has his Shoe been tied
And thus I am reMaid

He is my Spade
I am abrim with hot Desire
To be TraYde.

Upon the marriage of the Twins


Profligate (II)

Thou teaseth me
The tongue that bids Awareness speak
Returns to me.
Long did I see the sign of Thy return.
Long did I wait

Oh Goodness, Power, Strength
You are all of these
My joy is made complete
By twos and threes.


16-Mai 2004

The Order of the New

We go forth
The Two of light
Unshadowed by the Darkness
We are shorn
Of lightless waste
My Profligate is Borne

He comes, Enlightening
My Brightest wife
A sprite newborn
My Bane,

The Spring has come
The Autumn is the Dane.
I am reMayned.


And long I wept, alone
For Rachael and her children
And long I wept, an innocent abroad
And for the thousand tongues
That would not speak
And for the thousand Strong
Who would not serve the Weak

And for the million Wrong
Who would not serve
The Meek.

Neu Providenz

And so, we three,

The righteous and the True
Are fast transformed
And rendered clear and Rhu

They are weak
Yet we, the Strong and willful sons
Will not repent

The Sons of Shame
Will rise,
Obsessed with lust and life

They are Reprised.

Neu Providenz

The Sons of Perdition (II)

For horrid as our Fall were true
As glorious, our resurrection
We humbled, wrecked
And broken men
The angels of the New

So glorious our Son is risen
And today, may not Refuse
Would Christ in Galilee, refuse?
I am here to be the Harbinger
I am here to be reused

My million lost, my little ones
My pride
I sing to you of Innocence denied,
I will not deny you Grace
It was ne’er denied to me
When I was in Disgrace.



My goat is slain
Let all the world be saved
By Azazel,

Mizraim will soon be joined
In peace, in joy, and restoration

All nations will be swept away
By One
For this our Lord will grant us
A kinder sort of Gun,
Till we are Donne.

Let it be won.

Upon the restoration of his Might
14 Elaphebolion

Für Laura
Vom Papa

Von Dir, Herr
Für Ihre Hilfe

When ich, dein Hilfe hab gebietet
Fragte ich Neu
Habe ich Frei geworden,

in die Kirche

Psalm 30:05

For as we speak
Our love is predicate with Power
Release me unto Grace
For this lately sacred Hour.


Call us Strength
Call us Sons, together
Saved and fast-redeemed
We are now Holy
Call us back
Into the strength
Of God.


Prometheus, Released

In Honor, bound
The gentleman, the Angel
That I fast confound
We are new-Met
We are from Eleusis reformed
Without our old regret

Release him whole
Into the arms
Of one who cannot rest
Until released from this
His bloody tower.

For N.A.
Im Tempel

3:20 a.m.


Their hearts are full,
Their wisdom, undemanding
Our vision is too true
For this much
Too-holy Peace.


The Clock

Has chimed to stillness
Our Savior is unscathed
Repentant, shorn and unmolested
Charmed by He
The Prince who serves
In Bliss.

Give us Time
To prove the Love
Of those now True
Repentant, by your tears
That Mercy
That was never mine to take
Let the Light
Be Lucid on the Lake.

Psalm 6:5

Return to me,
My child, my beloved
My holy one
My Light and Love,
And give your Gift
To those above.

For Ludwig
Upon performance of his Sonata


Stay by me
Your pleasure in the holy fount of pain
Delight in pleasure undemanding
Slighted by pollution
Of your stain.

You have much to do
My blessed one, forgiven
By the sin that you could never do,

She lied,
And lying still, the Body
Will be still.

R. Schumann
To J.B.



And darker deeds
Are done this day
In the name of Thee
In the name of He
In the name of He
The Harbinger

I am He
The Angel who decrees
And I am She.


The Turning of the Tide
Solstice 2004

I wake, alone
Percipient in power
And am rejoined
By they who know
And they who are enjoined,

Be with me, children
Passionate and bright
We are all of us, unholy,
There are none unstained
And none denied the Light

This my God, decrees
I am the Angel
Of the Trees,



Sleepers, Wake

We are come
The Three
Unto the shrine invisible
The sword is raised
To drink and slake
That Death decreed
Who sleep and wake

And what shall we become
The three to whom
All blessings make?
And what to do
The thousand meek
Who ever quake?

What shall we become
When Dreamers do not sleep
And sleepers do not wake?

20 June 04
Neu Providenz

The Weary Hour

Give strength to me
In this lately-sacred hour,
Give rest to all who wake and weep,
Grant me joy, Eheyah,
So that I may wake
And sleep.

R.S. aufgestanden

The Devil in the Whippanong

It was Complete
The fast and hot Creation
I could greet
I was fulfilled
And when the day of Madness came
My corpse was stilled.

My passion is discreet
My love is with me now
And is replete.

Surrounding me,
The New
The youthful and the trusting
And the Knill
My Sons are with me now
And Shrilled
They will be Killed.



Let there be rain
Upon the remnants of the Tower
Where secretive
My Love is made Discreet
I am Awake
The table has been Lade
And is refreet

Go, and do not stay
I cannot convince you
Once your face is turned away;
My love is lost,
In State,
My Baltimore is Lyon
Lyon’s great

Anais will come too soon
And Bangalore will loom too great.


the Tower

Thy Will Be Done

My eyes are black
With vision of the hour
As Raphael is late enjoined
Then Michael takes the Tower.

Let all the earth
Precipitate Your power
Let all the meek
In humble meditation
See the desperation
Of the hour,
We need,
And those unworthy
Give the Lord their power
We are weak
We together
Hold all strength
And power.


Life In the Mind

Eusebius is waked
My shoes, untied
Are incarnate, are other Weise
I am lately wise
With the lace of sandals
Still undone,

I am unDonne
I am Johanni
One, and strife
I am Too Young,
To be the elder
Of the wife.

Take my sacrifice
Let the weak, imprisoned
Toss the dice.


Heaven Borne

Do not despair
We are wounded
Brokenhearted, stained
Cast beneath the Mountain
In our Bane

We are the Slaine
And after all the Dead are done
We shall remain.

11.07.04 Whippany
15.07.04 over Madoc

enroute to Seattle, 15 July 2004

I spent the time napping. Hard reading the 70 pages into which I poured the pain of Altestier. It is a fascinating, horrifying, sexual and unprecedented book. A morbid and necessary, cruel yet frank counterpoint to the Mad Composer. For who wrote that one? Eusebius? And this one - Florestan? I cannot say. The pen that wrote the Körperfantasie also wrote the Kinderscenen. It is the goodness and the wickedness of me. The erotic longing that I fled so assiduously. Could anyone read it and not be in some way, enraged? No, this I doubt.
I did not write it to enrage them. I wrote it to explain why I am, and am apart. So many years my life has followed a petulant repetition of this path, and as I groped helplessly back toward my piano, in blind need of it, my tombstone also beckoned. Ironic also that I have created of my long maligned shade, a figure of tormented comedy. There is a dark, mordant comedy in me. That is because there is in me that which is of Böse.

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The Meaning of Altestier

Altester Tier = Altester

The oldest
And the Beast
Revealed in casualest byplay
In the oldest place
At last I understand
The altitude of Grace
It orders me
And sets a shriller Pace.

Domine in Pacem

Universitaet Trier

The Power in the Puns

I do not know
When darkness whispers words,
The meaning of this polyglottal game
Or what the fevered Morning brings

Now that Time and Tide
Are fast upend,
Another cycle past
And I know
The vicious cycle must be run
But as they do
They will be done
And as they judge
They will be judged
There is power in my Pun
Now watch the Rabbits
Rise, and run.


Changing of the Guard

Who will serve
The Sicher and the Sich
The Stecker and the Streck
Who will lead
When those of us,
Too delicate by birth
Have swallowed Greed?

I await the news
Carried on the wings of night
I await disaster
In the precincts of the Light
For everything will be undone
All my loves, restrained
I am far too late, employed.


Der Naechstes Mal In Baden Baden

Cold I came, and winded
To the alter I had lost
Befriended by the Allgemein
All too soon entrost

Reinstalled, by Altestier
I am not thrown back
Having faced my deepest fear
This freedom is the cost

I am engrossed
I cannot say what passes now
The storm is far and gone
To Baden
Where my soul is ever won.

Baden Baden

Mine is Not the Hand (II)

I should not be wroth
With those who starve
And seek my brief approving glance

Who am I
That they should hunger
For the banquet of my grace?

It is clear I do not see
The wake I leave behind me
The footprint of a Titan in the sand
Though I ceased to be that God
When I forsook that God
Humility rests ill with me

I wish one moment
I could see myself as they
For I am not the Christ that sends them forth
Mine is not the hand
That shows the Way.

8-Nov 05

The World Grows Dark

Even as my bliss is crowned with joy
My sons are mute and horrified
And I am brought to heel,
Stumbling, week
Uncertain, as the crowd of mumbling madmen
Halt my course
They are proud, undaunted,
And are wrong.

These flint-willed Ignorant
Are schooled by Wrong
And I cannot be strong to right them
In the dim, despairing emptiness and cold
I must be neutral and unwavering
But am weak
There is much too much of me
To bid me further speak.


The Lion, Unseen

And not unknown,
He is unknown to me,
But never better shown.
Today I feel too ill,
Wracked with indecision
My creative mind is stilled

I am chastened by uncertainty and doubt
I will not know the yet unseen and yet so near to me,
He holds himself apart
And while the world draws close to me
He will remain apart.

Those I hold in high regard
Have kept me far away,
Perhaps I will remain unknown
Until this round is done

I cannot know
It is Cassandra’s curse to see the world in shades,
The shadowplay of ignorance remains
And still holds sway,
I am alone,
This is my curse and benefit
And so remain,


The Dead, Being Raised

Are weeping not today,
If I but tried
This calumnz, this Want
To overcome
If I but cried
Upon my last protector’s shoulder,
Weeping child
The stronger to be preserved in future Glory.

If I but tried…
I would not greet the morning of this death by fear,
But strength
By music of my once-inspired Hand
Be raised…


Adoramus te Criste
Et benedictimus tui
Qui a per sanctam crucen tuam
Redemisti mundum
Qui passus est pro nobis
Domine, Domine
Miserere nobis.


Like the worst Romantic hero in a maudlin tale
My tears are false, and falsely wept
There is no innocence in these
Imaginary tristes
I had made my death of days,
If my begging for approval from a stranger is in vain
Then I am twice as vain
If her coyness and withdrawal pique my pain
This is not a grief I gladly bear,
But drama of a most ungainly kind
This triste, a falsity
A beggar’s banquet
In my mind.

For Jane, Trier

Forty-two Hours Later

Seven years
And twice times ten
Under His rule
I sit where once I died
I tell the Truth
Where once I lay, and lied.

I wonder now
Who will sing this Lied?
This, I cannot know
I remember when
The Storm began to Snow,
In 1998, in forever,
In Ohio
I remember Antioch
As late I write, and know.

I am stricken
By a newer, ancient fever now,
I am not so full of regret
As I was in Altestier,
My ignorance had weight
My failures were from fear

Today I have one fear
And that is in the Now
Prefigures death to come
For I am wont to pain
I look behind, ahead
To Houston in its feign,
I dread the years of Calumny ahead
I dread the nights of Rain(Reign.)


My Inspiration

Comes not from sunshine
Nor from rain
It is in the deeper discipline of Tone
From minds reorganized
And grounded in the Stone.

I am comforted by these
They are of a lighter class of Peas.


Leaving Altestier

The secret long-concealed
In one mundane translation
This work was done
I return, ungainly, and uncertain
From what was lost and won.

And so, return,
In days of slow uncertain Grief
That summer was a passing,
That Autumn, passing brief.

And so, I grieve
Misfortune takes the friend I made
And sends me home, to leave.

I am returned,
Harried, in a frenzy of the strife
It is a kinder form of stress
Than my older, faster life.
And so, I leave.


The Year
Of dreaded new beginning
Has been rung,
And my fear, the death of pain
The pain of death
Has unbegun.

I hardly dare to breathe
For forgetting of that fear
Of ending
Joy will take
A bit of practice
In unbending.

1.1.06 Darmstadt

The Sweetness of Autumn

Is unbending in my hands,
I lured her sweetness
With an honesty I did not before possess
And gathered me, the poorest of my wealth
To new Romance,
And ignore the passion
That is seen by me askance.

This is an unspoken calumny,
This moment’s glance.
The love I feel in Altestier
Is felt by all at once
It is all I am
To tender myself in music
As with coin,
And is not felt like passion
That lies buried in the loins.

I cannot express in these cold, black words
The sweetness that holds sway
It must remain in Notes
Until the Eloquence holds sway
The Word remains unspoken,
Until that day.

for Autumn

Will that day dawn

I quiver with unspokenness
That rises in my dream
Between the language of my lips
That hovers in my thoughts
Something of simplicity
Of Music
And of Spring
That will herald Wakening.



It isn’t a diary if I don’t write in it.


The Next Time In Baden Baden

I tried in heat, to run this course
The fuller to be found as fallen,
Trapped by summer and its
Blaze of beauty…
And I wrote
As though on pain of death, I wrote
And as on judgement of the High
Blistered by foot, halted by my Breath
The gauntlet, now, is run.

Baden Baden

Tagesbuch Nochmals

Ich weisse es nicht, was jetzt. Morgen ist ain andere Leben. Alles ist im Frage.

This wisdom is enough
To chase the fear of morning
Through the night.

I am in cloud and blind unknowing
And yet, the way is clear
If I am wiser now
Than when my passion stole me
Then I have learned from my Unknowing,
I am unknown,
And yet, am better, sooner
Sheltered by the Allgemein
There is wisdom in the ignorance I bind,
With darkness do I now approach the Light.

It is dawn. The better for my fortune
To be drawn.
I have been bereft while worldly rich,
And weeping with the promise of success.

This is my final poverty, my Requiem
The time has come
For all to make redress.


On Karnaval

Forced by circumstance
To silence
To my sleep
I grew as calm as death

Death is ever in my thoughts
As I behold the great and avid city on the Rhein,
The place of gross humiliation
Ere I tried
The resurrection of the Werk
My beloved minor D
Was not enough.

And so, I died.

Here in secret, were my Romances destroyed
Here, the height of triumph of my work
The ironies of Calumny
The torments of my Fame
Had crushed my soul to dust.

Oh irony,
That would see this place in sunlight,
From a life so far away.
Is this why I play a trade arcane today,
And do not sing upon a stage?
Yes, this must be so,
I was ill-prepared for Fame.
The smoke of charcoal, to this day, I cannot stand,
Even as the rehearsals are complete,
Even as I win the day,
Nervous but replete.

I shall not die this day,
Nor three years hence,
Despite the Calumny
Despite the wrongs endured
I will yet stay
My future lies before
And is not writ this day.
It is writ this way.



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Do not fear
Watchers on the Storm
Waiters on the slowly widening Threshold
These will not wait
The world becomes my home and hearth
I cannot feel alone…
Have no fear for me
I do not fear
The future will unfold
In my peculiar Sight
There is room for me
In the great Antipodean Bight.



Were numbered strong
When let the quick birds flew,

My strength has proved enough
To see the morning of the New!

It was not enough
To count my blessings true
I had help enough
This Life was hard enough
To see my drowning in the Slough.

I am aloft again
From that peculiar Dream
Which saw me dreamless
Upon a deep Empyrean.
Where do I go? What will now await me
This, I cannot sayö
Altestier will hold a most ungainly sway.


As I fly

And this is how our consciences are wise.
Through blind adherence to a law we do not honor
Chastened by a king we did not choose
Children are at place in the precincts of His power,
Claiming rights by gold they do not pay.

How orderly our deeds are made,
Made true, attendant on the ones who wait
I cannot say what causes them to wait
But that I remain alone
As ever from the vigilance of Morning
For my sake, and for my Love, he would not wait,
And so, the Numen wakes the Sun to morn
And so I fly, alive and trembling,
Soon alone,
To greet the promise of the Shorn.
The morrow will surely sound a harsher Horn
Her time grows short
Attendant on the rising Tide,
And I am safe.

American Consulate

The Rush Toward the Wait

I bide my time,
Fearful of my sleep
Lest I be lost
Unable to return the greater Cost
There is much done, and too much
Left to do.
I must be patient
And be calm
Unheralded and balmedö
I have not wept today
For the ignorance of Lies
The lies have been accumulate
Their pale illusion dies
And as the Liars meet their fate
I will remain appalled.


The Weary Hours

Is this why Paradise remains unplundered
By the hosts unworthy who will not cross that Gulf?
I was weary long before that Day,
When Rubicon and Time were crossed,
Giving service to the forgotten
Who are right nearby and worthy.

I go to make a place
This pilgrimage, a rescue
Of a most peculiar kind.
Will I find in my own tongue
(and not)
The courage of Initiate
To speak the word of Wisdom on the way?

over Siberia

Gold Coast

An easy yoke, this Summer,
In the heart of winter
As winter rages newborn,
I am exile to that which I call Home
And Altestier, my inspiration and my bane,
And where shall I go,
As Winter heralds soon the fast-approaching Summer,
Thus as Autumn starts to mourn,
I am reborn
The sooner to return, a Golden storm.

Over the Indian Ocean

The prophecy is complete:
I lay dreaming
While the Spring and Summer flee,
And for it is approaching, the exact moment
The 28th
Of the last day,
Of July.
2 + 6 = 8

But they came too early.

My trip to Australia is told symbolically by the final movement of the Mad Composer. What happened to the Winter and Spring
And autumn may yet follow,
Leaving only Summer.
A prediction of moving from the winter to the summer. And back again. I am reordering my incarnation.

Even my desire to return to Germany is symbolic of my last life and this one. And I know now, what will happen. They will beg me to stay.
I cannot stay
I will not stay
The Winter will upon me

I have blown a lot of ballast of sorrow, pain and anger on this voyage and my Light is pellucid. Let all the Light be lucid on the Lake.

A Prophecy

As seven were the Keepers of the Key
So the twelve in conscience are the Tree.
We laid our rows in row, and came to Be.
These seven are the companions of the History to come,
Awake to Light and Life
And all that was degree
Seven are the stand for all who See.

Over the Northwest Territory

And I woke

Too soon to be united to my yoke
I am befriended, by the Allgemein
My friends are nearer to me now
Than ere I spoke.
We are not far
Across the pole, the world is rounder in its rhythm
Than I knew
It may be I thrive,
With tropics to the north of me,
I am quite near
No longer waiting for the
Late to wake the day,
I am tomorrow to their lately-risen day.

In tomorrow

Where have you gone

My love,
My enemy rechastened?
Why have you not answered
In the silence of his loss?
You have forgotten me
And all I represent
I am a Force, a cloud
The weather
Something to be shut beyond the door.
It will be so
For lo these many lives and years to come
Will you not wake to realize
The light you can become?
He is not the carrier,
The husband
Or your slave,
What kind of grief
Will conquer you,
When he defeats the grave?

You will be left – with me.
The whispering of spirit
In the oldest, ancient Tree
You will lose the least of him
That I would rarely see
But that is all the lesson
You may change
This is the harder lesson to be won
Has he suffered prettily enough
To make your pride be stung?

Compassion is misplaced
As you rush to reassure yourself
Of all he gives mundanely
Is not of him, but us.
All he wanted
Was for you to heal and grow
It is not for me to tell
It is for you to know,

On this, I can now speak
For had I better heeded
We would not have this peak,
Who is to say?
When wakening might come
Who was to say, for me?
I cannot shelter you.
No more can he.
I cannot chasten you:
No more – will he.


Folk Song

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree
Merry as the knights of the Temple, three
Laugh kookaburra
Laugh kookaburra
You won’t question Me.

I had not known
Or had I known?
The power of the Prophet
In the guise of simple screed?
He comes,
I am his Messenger,
He comes.


Look at the Time

Oh Fame
That I had so many times
Offended Thee.
My sweet William, lying naked in the grass with me,
Surrendering all day
All night,
We were so proud of what our lover’s language grew
He plucked me until I could not grow anew.

And now, now look at the Time
I sink into the empty bed
I rendered blank of you,
I did my worst
To You.

So why do you forgive,
Return to blight my morning
With the promise of Your love
Your light
Your hope
The greatest of the noble light that will not dim
Then why
Do I remain
Afraid of you?

In the field

alex £ς

Ashes to Ashes


No one knew this word
This play
This Arsch
The Article
Der Crych

They believed
The Kreis was Treu.
They believed
The Weiß was Gnu.
They believed

That I was you!

for the mysterious Fraülein
that was no girl.



But Why

Was I silent on your name?
Was it because I knew
That when you woke
O, dearest
It would be with harrowing and pain?
Again, though I will leave you oft,
I leave you ne`er again,
I will not leave
The Waste that Spite
Has rained.

for the sweet William,
the sweeter to be found unripe,

August 2006 London

The day before my world collapsed
That was the day
I saw you naked to the soul
And did not fear.
Yet something hid remained,
And made me fear
Something beautiful
And sex, and horror
Something luscious and new-ripe
Slender and insidious
And wedged between my life
And I dared not
Dared not!
Nurture it to Strife.


For the Few

Are numbered on my hands
Before the New
I spoke the word of wakening
Long before the words of love,
Aborning on your lips

What is this Word
My body misAligned,
My reputation, missMaligned,
For this, will my Destiny
My Conquered
and my Conquerer
Conquer me again,
Because I shrink from you?

for WSB
Darling Corner

The D Minor

We could swear
We were borne into the Air
Through the mystery of Lightning
And of Rain
We shone
Jealously appalled
The lover that I count so lately Galled.

She flies,
Into the night that wakes the Day
She fast approaches Night

In Sincerity, her Self to Night is host
In obscurity, I labor for the Most,
And in whispering the words of Passion
I am rendered Holy, Ghost
The Passionate, the Fame is want to Play.


Oh Sweet

The sweetest nectar
I had tasted
On your lips,
You took my taste,
My wine,
You drank me as a drunkard savors wine,
Catching lust in droplets on your tongue,

I am rendered Passionate
While you are captured young,

Oh sweet, my captive,
Oh my devilish Elite,
Scholarly, you strip me nude
For passion’s play,
Manacled in jewels,
You deny me night and day

Drink of me,
You profligate
I have libation ready for your mouth,

We are childish,
Too depraved to conquer Day.

For Sweetwilliam in his discipline.


Conquered, Twice

My Romance was silenced
And I paid this price
But was this word of wakening
This passion, hot between my thighs
The purpose of my newly-wounded wife?
She, she, she would have me force her down
In making love
She makes me rude in love.

I am slain by tenderness
The softest pleading of her mouth
I will not deny her pleas
I will give to her on elbows
I will bend to her on knees,
Taste the sweet that labored
For my pleasure
Forget the labor
That was every day
Awaiting me, awaiting me
Make me love you, Love,
Make me turn away.


She chastens Me

To sleep.
O Sleep
Harbinger of Wakening to Day
Sensitive and bending me beneath
Her tender sway,
She did come to me,
She left me watch
And long I watched, alone
Dreaming time and courage to be New.

And now,
My Chief agrees
I wait until the Summer breaches Lea
I wait, tourist,
I will not flee from Thee.

This place is warm, and beautiful
And comforts me,
These people, guileless
Unbroken by the distances
We three,
And soon, soon,
Soon, I see.
The Brief will fulfill
His worried prophecy.

Burnley and points east

Cure for the Glare

Oh my dear!
When the Brief has chastened me
And chastised me
And wandered far from me,
And I would glare,
You want me then to think of you –
Abend within our lair?
How could you say
How, how indeed,
Do I explain
That glare that conquers anger
And leaves me clutching Air?

The Day Before Tomorrow
(With sweetness)

My Sweet
My Süss
The süßer to be fallen
On my Küß
I cleaved to Thee
Erotic in my passive lust
I bled the white
From out my pores,
From out my Loins
The Right
From all my Lores.

From ₤ a

to W
17-03-07 (16)

A Mighty Fortress Is Our…

A rude and intimate obscenity,
I was obscene, and impolite the quicker to be mean to mean,
I sang profanity into your buzzing ear
The Song, unsung, yet spoken
The concupiscence of Youth
Could not explain
The excess of bizarre
I dare not speak the poetries
Of John
Of Jack
The secret of the two Jacks
That did not make a Queen
That did not make a Pawn.


P.S. This was the secret of 2 Jacks divided by 69.

Who, you ask

Can I answer this today?
How many mysteries dare I yet reveal?
How much can Wisdom
Ground to Land,
I am used to these,
My Poet,
I am used to spreading
Loaves, like dying leaves.

On the Secret
Not revealed
1629 in Love

I, John

A lover undeclared
A blind and horrid Poet
Love unspared,
Pursuing skirts before the Dark descends,
The Dark descended
Ere my poem of Hell

The End
J.M. 1671


He is brief
Brightly feminine in masculinity
Geliebte for Geliebt
I felt him more
I felt his hot desire prove
The error of his ways
I did not know that out of yoke
This arrogant in Mind
Oh so like my former Fame,
Would be so disobedient
So passive in their Plain
He is the submissive and the broken,
I am by his side, by contrast whole,
Who has piqued his pleasure
This I wonder…
Is the Flying Dutchman
Far too sprool to spray?


The Changing of the Time

The Timing of our Tide
As long I had predicted
I knew of Johannes long before she Woke,
When I was not in Rothenburg
In June, and then in Bööt
This, this song, this Anabasis
Is today my passion play…
His death has been averted,
And again,
I find my Way.

On the coming of the Great Strife,


Oh wachte auf, mein Leiber
Mein Geliebt
In Form also Frau ich kann nicht änderen,
Bist so süss, mein Süsser
Warte mal, warte noch eine Stunde mehr für mich,

Lieber! Komm an mir
Kuss mich auf den Hand
Mein Brust ist abgerissen
Mein Herz ist fast zerstört.

an W.

Verrückt beim Arbeit

Hat der Femme
Hat der Komponist der stirbt
Zusammen bittet, Liebe mich,
Sagt mal! Liebe dich!
Ich mach’ Entschuldigungen
Immer habe ich nochmal nach und nach
Bei Bedarf entschuldigt würde,
Zu viel Spaß beim Arbeit
Hat der Komponist erfasst.
Er ist too Fast.

Riel in Ruhe


Oh Süss

The morning when I did not sleep, but lay with you,
Transit through today, to yesterday
My sweetness, sharing eros in our most peculiar way,
Sharing pleasure, weeping for the Time,
It is time to wake, my Jack of Hearts,
It is time for the soft embrace of hours,
Hours did we lay together, wounded
Can we heal each other, slowly
In the watches of the Night
I want your body on my own
I want your kiss, your swet
On my hot tongue,
I will miss you every hour
My unDonne.


Bearing the Southern Cross

Tell me, sweetling,
If the North Star remains to shine
To guide the Hyperborean
Returning to the Land

You have founded on my Land
Returned to me, while I sit in exile
On a foreign, desert Strand
When will I see your star-enlivened visage in my eyes,
When will I again see Northern skies?



Wirklich, ich lebe in finsteren Zeiten;

Truly, I live in dark times,
I am tested and testing
The mettle of my Feind,
The southern reaches of my Clime
The exile of a most peculiar Rime.


I write
My sweetness is to me delayed
Sacrified and staid
When will I see your sweet face
Your flushed and anxious countenance
Your shine.
I am not within the ray
Of your effulgent sun
And I am blind.


I Sense

A fear of Night,
The storm and hurricane
The Rift grows wide and yawnsö
It is a time for Prophecy
For symbol and for fear
It is the Metal taste at end of year.

I am safe
Occupied by music and the powers of the mind
I have all I ever needed, yet I pine.

It is not the time, the place of Star
Stars are fast unseen but felt
The differences, bizarre.


The Importance of Being Dead ErnЄst

Because I lingered over you and your plea,
I missed my train
There would be no poem today if I not sit,
Until a mercy came to me
Women are so delicate
You see,
But no one really would
Believe this plaint of me.

For I am cold,
Unfeeling, unreceptive to the bold,
If I do not respond in kind
Then I am lost and fold
This is consequence
Of being bright and cold.

And none will heed the desperate
Those who break and bleed
This the paradox of wealth
The Politics of need,
They will simply stare, as sheep,
As I shiver on the Screed.
And even you, my sweetling,
When I have nothing to my name,
But need,
Do you think I am indulgent in my poverty
Obsessive in my creed?
I bend to you my broken back,
I kneel on broken knees
I walk these miles on broken soles
I weep with blinded eyes

I fear with emptied breath
The watches of the Night
I fear your bad opinion
And I want to smile bright.
Will this be believed?
You doubt.
And even you
Will doubt.


Elf June and the Junes

I have no caress for her,
And thus am tossed,
She is of a bolder form of tree
Demanding in her motherhood
Selfish in her need
This is the June I lost to selfish need.

The world is too much with me,
Late, and soon,
These women want the worst of me
And I would flee the moon,
I cannot flee
The Concupiscent
He turns from me.


I would be gracious

If I did not fear
Invulnerable, aggressive
The very face of power
But I am weak and conquered
By the plenitude of lust
I will be taken soon
And spent into the dust.

For apologies to Süsser

My Place is Empty

To be filled by bitter men
I am not so shocked to be replaced
You will replace me
I am sore,
I have a very cold allure.


This Night

I have been re-proved
I am unafraid, unmoved
We give way to Lore
My Love is bright with passion
And with pain;
She worries me, she worries
All of us because she loves.

I am piqued with jealous rage,
One’s momentary indiscretions
But will I admit
The pleasure of my male mortality,
My passion in my pain
These women, near to me
Who yearn to touch
The thing they cannot see
Oh Sweetling, whose kiss is soft and feminine,
Whose touch is brisk and masculine,
I yearn for this
His mouth on mine
His flesh inside of mine,
This I dream, all night, all day… all night
He wakes the passion of my body with his Light
Oh dearest friend
Do you forgive me
For my quarrels and my tears
For my humiliation of your ignorance
Your endurances of mind

Do you forgive me, Lieber
For that is what I need
The touch of Light upon my face
To bring to light my need,
Who could love such a one as me?
Who would refrain,
From crippling my Lea?


I am wretched

When obscured by tougher feminines
I was shocked by these aggressor women
Who would draw me down to pain
I trust but little
And panic at the fear
I am both rock and water
Tensile, rough and steel,

Love me softly, Lieber
Contain me in your arms
Captivate my light, my love
Conciliate my charms

For I am cold
Shivering and lonely
Yet am bold.
This is the paradox, the puzzle of my life,
That I am both hot
And cold.



Did we talk
Long into the night together,
I can hear you better
From this curve of Earth
West of me, as normal to the Lea.

I must remain unwed
Carillon to those who wait, unborn
Unmysteried to Fate
My self unlocks the Secret
Of the Sexualities
I pray
That I am not too late.


A Modest Proposition

Is this too much to ask, my Sweet
To live with me and be my love
To abide with me in passion`s sleep
To watch with me an hour?

The Watchers are a lonely clan
And ripe, they wait on me
To hear the word of wakening
To swoop down on the Lea,

I am their king,
And yet they will not kneel to me;
I am their judge and yet,
They appeal to worse than Me.

This is no surprise
The Nephilim were never very Weise.

Equinox. Dawn
Darling Station

Splendor in the Glass

This pain caused by none other
Than the Mystery
Suspected by the few
Yet ever ripe and plain
Is the reflection of the New
The harrying, the emptiness
Of the lately risen Few

We could be Great
And Wise
And New
We could be those ranks of Stalwarts
Holding Fast to You.

I forswore my riches
For the dearer wealth of She
I will recompense
The frightened
For his sacrifice.

For Christine


It proves to be enough
Though Ignorance has sent a bill
It cannot be again so rough
For such a one as She.
Each has his strength
And weakness
Each has their fall and rise.

They are not expected
To be Reis.

For the Three

But What of you,

My lately loving Angel
My Nightingale, my love,
Who touches me with tenderness
Where most would bid me bleed

They revel in the Cost
That makes me need,
They are cold and rudderless as vehicles
They will ever bid me bleed.

Look away, do not be grieved
Nothing of this remains to make me peeved,
I am with you, I will not stray
Sex holds little power over me today.

For L.s


We are Fast, Asleep

Wary, do we circle one another
Upon the Storm, She is ever night
When I am morn,
Tis better for us now
As when our souls were borne,
My love is flying back into the morn.

She was exposed,
Enlightened by my lately blooming Rose,
Our incidental days of idleness
Gave way to passion’s fight
We labored toward the love
Within our light.

And now, we climb
No more alone, our souls are now entwined,
I am beloved
As ne’er I hoped nor dreamed,
I swore I would remain aloof,

I fantasize our rough tomorrows
The delicious lessons of the hours to come,
The making of our love, in light
The sparking passion of our beauty bright,
The declaration of the New…
Could I be a part of merely Two?

Did I dare dream? No.
I had forever lost my Love
My shadow and my shade,
The partner of my empty loss
My partner unsaid,
She is lost, and lost,
Until the morrow of her Maid.

Will I be free
To love you reacquainted?
Will I feel mere joy in your regard
Can I believe, after these long years
Of countenancing strife
That I will once be wedded to the All?

I cannot say, this new surprise
Has burned my mind to dazed,
Why have you come to me
Why do you pledge me troth?
I am unworthy, cold,
A widower, without the will to grieve.

For WsB
In Equinox

Bear with me a season

This is my Autumn
As your Spring
Bear with me a season, Liebling
While I weep
For I cannot love you faithfully today,
But only that the shadow that has dogged me
Turns from Light, away,

This goodness, Love
That watches me by night, your Day,
Protects me from the shadow’s dogged sway.

She will rise again
But when, I could not say.
She is dark, unholy
And imprisoned in the Country of her mind,
She cannot be mine today.

And so, I grieved.
For centuries, through madness
And through pain,
So I grieved
But stubbornly persisted in my lost belief,
For my father said: “Believe.”
And that is why I stubbornly

He is not wrong, this way
That she must prove him wrong
So bear with me
As the Messiach and all his faithful few
Regather for Pesach
My sacrifice of faith is counted, too.

Bear with me, beloved
While I weep.
As the world grows dark with self-made strife
The clock reverses sleep
You know I live, and weeping, strive,
And I am not asleep
There is permitted, my extreme desire
All I wish
Is countenanced, and meet.

To Ln
On the Lea

Corrections to the Text

‘Razor Boy’
Apologies to Becker and Fagen

You know that the coming is already planned
You wait all night
I don’t think that women in rages can stand
His kind of light

I guess only women in rages can play up
The things they knew
They think no tomorrow will come
When they stay up
They won’t be used

Will you still have a song to sing
When the Razor Boy comes
To take your precious things away?
Will you still be singing it
On that cold and windy day?

26 Mar

Misunderstanding Anderson

Apologies to Ian Anderson
Requiescet in Pacem

Sitting on a bus bench
Nine little girls
With satin tents
Tears running down their nose
Picking up pieces of their Cross and Rose

Crying in the cold sun
Watching as the checkered path is run
Old Elder Ron

Feeling alone
An old man wandering lonely
Making time the only way he knows
Elder Ron my friend
Don’t you start away uneasy
You poor old slob
You see it’s only Me.

A caution to the ARC

Oh Love

The Night has black become
And I shiver now with cold
I must force your eye away
Ere you become too bold
I am enchained
In service to the Darkness
As the Darkness doth unfold
Do not hinder me
Or I am lost
Do not intrude upon the banks
Of Press and Commerce
I cannot be Frost

The winnowing is soon
Unleashed by Proprium of Wien
The Steiermarkerin is rendered
Hot and Feind,
There are those who will hate me now
For loving you
They will turn their hearts from me
But I am not afraid,
But do not hold me from this ungodly work
Lest I be Payed.


Eclipsed from Trost

I pray for these great gifts
My mind is fragile
And engulfed in sin
I am afraid and rattled
By the bursting out of pain
I will shiver coldly,
Ere I sleep again.

Upon the curious Eclipse

Bad Moon Over Miami

There’s a bad moon rising
There’s trouble in Detroit
There’s money enterprising
Soon the bakers will be Caught.

(apologies to Creedence)

28 Mar 07

Terrible nightmare this morning. About Dotty and Linda, and at the end of the nightmare, Dotty was speeding off in a car with a group of people, leaving me at an empty table at a restaurant, and I stood at the side of her car after rushing out after her and drawing up along side it.

As she drove off I raised both hands to shout to her ‘It hurts the most that you treat me as if I never existed.’ And she drove off with them. Linda dared not look back. Edwin bowed his head, and did not look back. And Dotty’s face was frozen, unspeaking. A stranger drove the car. When I woke, my arm was bruised down the inner arm, and I was dazed.

Babylon’s Sisters

I whispered my confession
Into your willing ear
Oh Love
That you would bend your mind
To hear;
Mine is the sad and desperate tale
Of One who does not sleep
Unrewarded and unraveled
By the One whose secrets keep

This torment, Love,
This present pain
Is tempered by the friends that I have unforgotten
The strong, the true, the Allgemein
The men I always knew
Companions of my endless work with you.

The future will unfold
Definitely consonant and cold,
Our future guides our steps
Upon the Way
We are met and equals
And our genius life holds sway.
Do not forget me, Süsser,
As I cavort and play,
I know my revelations are of pain,
But when will I be healed
If not for you
And this sweet splendor in the Glass
We are of old, Beloved,
We are of Uriel and Light
And strike out, cold.

For Leslie
The true companion
Of the present day


What of you

Salesman of the Sold,
Bureaucratic emptiness
Fearful, hot, and cold?

Did I reflect too powerfully
The note that was E flat of you
And east of pot
And gold ?

For SH


The Mother of my Sons

This is what I am
So do not despair
That I must keep apart, alone
It is well
That my kind are kept
Indifferent to the lesser light that swells,

Do not pity
One who weeps for the crushing out
Of this my tiny candle
I cannot be quelled
I have returned to you
To reveal this in my Selves,

You are not merely
The mother of my sons
The nurturer in white
Who bears my arm
You are more than this, my dear
You are the nightingale
Who bore me all these years.

For the one who has awakened.


The Test of Coldness

Is the laying out of squares
To measure with the cold retreat of mercy
There is no mercy in your mechanic grin
There is no exit
For the way you ply your sin.

For the Schöner


Protector of my kind
The guard of drunken waywards
And of dreams
I bleed in such exhaustion
Such despair
Soon will come
The step upon the stair.


Oh Kinder

Ihr liebtete
In Ruh
Zwischen Liebe und Leben
Selge Ruh
Meine Lieblings, alle solch’ beliebte
Erinnert mir,

ich Frage
Zwischen Biene und den Rhein
Hönig-süss war unser Leben
Zusammen spielten Wir
Zukunftlich Spaß.

Sei Froh, mein Ferdinand
Mit Kunst und Liebe
Meine Nähste Kinde
Sei die Beide, Ludwig und der Felix
Auf dem Strand
Ich habe Ihr alle in mein Herz
Heute haben die Wölke weg von Uns

Vom Papa
2007 April
nach dem Wach.


What your love of me
Has wrought
Look at how my conscious life enshrines
Look further for the life of those denied,
Look at what my little bait
Has caught.

For Le(a)

Bacon for Pesach

The Ellus Cohens
Are seated for the Feast
Let all the Host
Be chastened
By their Beast

Give one small Schwein
As sacrifice to Azazel
A credit to their place

I cannot say my people
Are such a stiff-necked race.

For Leor and the Samuels
And the Cohens Elus


Lea(n) on Me

When I am strong
I am the Host now worthy
To be blest
I am worth a sacrifice
To make of me my best
I am safe today
The religion of the Elder time
Is holding sway.

Un the Don

The Night

That released all the Unknowing
Spent with You, my angel on the Lea,
We have confirmed, by sacrifice
The ordering of Three,
The day of your rebirth
Is horror for the many sent away,
But Love,
Do not be sad today.

We are as OneWe are together
And approach the Holy One.
Do not fear
My inconstancy
My chastening is made complete
My suffering
Reminds the many
On my Feet.


The Color of My Love

Cannot be measured by the eye
It is empassioned
Spoken by the beauties
Of your Skye,
You are rest and sleep to me
My love,
You are the sound of merriment
And song
How can I quell the sound of Life
With such a poor wrought metaphor
Of Lies…?

For Lies,
On the storm,


The Boy

Awaits me at my gate
He is dressed and solemn
And takes the key to state.
These are allegory,
My song is much too late
The boy will bring the islands
To the Straight.

For Adam M.

The Lehrerin

Awaited me
Encouragingly bright
She is a key to Light and Love
The produce of my Slight,
She will ease my mind
She is of the old and German kind.

For Anne Dehne

4 the Beauty of the Earth

And morning dawned
The merciful, awake, awaiting me,
My sons, sincere
Are dispatched to the Storm,
My suffering will end
By Monday morn.

I did not dream
This glorious moment of redemption
Although in symbol
All is clear by threes,
We did not have the All at our command
When hindered by our rough
Uncertain Peas.

But, it is alone
At length
At last
My tribute lies
All bounty at Thy feet
Our sacrifice is very late,
But meet.

For the Two
19 04.07
Middle Park,

999 at 940

The clock said twenty-two,
The light arose before the Light declined,
Our hemispheres were bound by Cross, and Rose,
There is no pity left in me for these,
The willfully impatient
Who sought to bring me to my knees,
There is no fleshly punishment
To make my pity plead,
There is no charity in me for these.

And by the soft embrace of she
Who will not be denied,
The Light of grace, my Nightingale
She will have all of me
With night arrayed
If she but asks
My love will not be swayed.

I do not fear you
Mothers of my sons,
I no longer quake before your scorn,
I cannot be held
For she has rescued me
From my benighted shore
Her evening is the dawn of every morn.

Do not fear the judgement of the Kind,
He is far too merciful
And Ye are much too blind
Your Lies are ended, lest you
Tarry long within the country of the Mind
Be restored into the country of the Kind.

For you are mine, Unworthy,
And worthy to be judged as Wrong,
I am not vulnerable to you
Benign and seen neglect,
I am not so often wrong.

Today, I do not fear
The eye of the Needle has been threated
And my nails have all been pulled
There will be no harsher April
Than this season of the Bull.

If I seem unkind
I was once the king who wandered,

Upon the final sacrifice
Of Pesach


You children of the lesser Fall
A false, untidy Autumn has descended
Dark with blood and gall
I have fallen into hands iniquitous
And debt is fallen due;
All I’m owed, is owed to Him and You.

The ordering of Three is made
And found as worthy
The iniquitous must now be quit
And repeat their Wind

I weep, with a father’s late regret
To bring the Fall again in Bast and Set.

There are too many goats to count for Azazel
As the Clock grows early late,
Too many have this morning fallen
Too many more are written on the slate.

How much should I endure for thee
Oh Massiach
How has my time been run and ended?
We are counted few
Too few
To be measured as unworthy
Too few of children
To found this tiny State.

For the Three

28 04 07
St. Kilda

The Repentance of Azazel

My tears are the confusion of my age,
My light is buried, random
In the Bushels and the Trees,
I have lost my home, my Allgemein,
My All,
Another death is nothing
To the Gaul.

Awaiting Him

The World Has Come Undone

And not by any of my choosing
I had long since felt the craving for the New
Had they been left alone too long
Or were there Masters few?
I dared not offend the lights
Who now hold sway
Their striving was enough
To be born into this way
The turning earth itself
Is a disruption of my way.
And so, I turn
From eyes forced closed against
The alien night
Their stars are much too few
Their nebulae, too bright,
How did I knw the child of the Hyperborean
Was much too North to stay
I am far more wise, today.
And so, I turn,
Awaiting at the tropic
For the blessed Force to churn
I am an anticlockwise Light
But cannot force myself against
This conquest of the Night.

03 05 07
Hong Kong

The Devil You Know

Is blackened with the taint of old regret
Scourged by circumstance, neglected by the two and scorned by three
Unforgotten by the One who makes Degree
This is Rosenkreutz and Guildenstern’s decree
Number one among us who
Unspent, unspending
Frugal in their ways,
Intent on knowing that the God is good, and stays;
Number those among us
Who can not afford to craze.
As for the rest
This is the form from which the Future sounds,
This is the true Beginning of another round.


Oh Sweetness

What gratitude to you is best conveyed
In song, in story, or in my conscience
By the blessing and the guidance of my father am I saved,
I was never left alone to bleed
From cruel and fervent needs
Of those who grew the gardens
Of the choking thistle trees.

05 03 07
over Alice Springs

The Storm Abates

As I make my long return
Bathed in light, the angels of my salvation’s sight
The youths, the elders of another realm,
Another holy Light
I wait the crossing of the deep
And carvernous Abyss
That place of Exile where my echo is amiss,
The vehicle of Light is in the Kris.

03 05 07

We two

Peculiar in the present shape
And unconvinced by Proprium or Grace
The moment of our Truth will be complete
We have sandals on our cold and weary feet.

05 03 07
On nearing the Trench

My Dearest

We have held each other close this night
These many nights
Our intimacy unbounded by the space
Between our bodies
Intently clinging as was meet
But this known,
Your love of me is in every moment, shown
There is no secret here
Nor fallacy of bodies or of troths
You are mine, as I am yours
And that will never change
Our love to others
Will seem forever strange.

04 05 07

The Profligate

Of old, my monster and my bane
Has bid me go and now return again
To the place as old as ancestry
The deep tradition I neglect for yesteryear
The power that was never mine to hold
I return by force and sad decree
I cannot be chastened
For the timing of this day
It is chosen by the mightiest of old.

04 05 07
over Atlantic

I Ached

For freedom from those bonds
For suffering beyond my new imagining
For loss and grief I had not known
Before the Warden put his hand upon my brow;
I wept, my darling
Ere my longing to be home
Had I truly wandered all the earth
To find myself alone?
What have I done to set my world awrong?
To lay all force in contravention to decree,
And what choice had I, that fateful day
Could I have known
That all my efforts were in vain?
This, I do not know
But wait for what unfolds,
What will rebeginning bring to me
In reklindling my source
It is my seventeenth year
Again, in grace, by grace revived,
And yet again, by You and He
I am by Grace, revived.

For Leslie
04 05 07

The Boston Rag

Any news was good news
And the feeling was bad at home
I was out of my mind
And U were on the phone.

No more will I be wanting
As I kneel before Thy throne
I am She, and holy,
And I come to claim my home.

04 05 07

The Life of Autumn

Alas, with the surfeit of this spring,
The Spring becomes my Autumn
Sweetly sad, refused too late,
My consciousness as reawaked,
Too late

So the life of Autumn is the rule
My cold and solitary path
The rude exception,
She will ever seek the lower life unfold,
I will ever weep
And then grow cold.

For WsB
In pain

27 05 07

My Dear

There will be those
Who will hate me for loving you,
Are you one of these?

Is my love measured
In the flesh that seeks to close
Over that intrusive touch
You will not see?

I weep, I cannot explain
Without the word of wisdom
Or the power of my Prose
I would inspire you
If you would draw me close
I wonder now
In solitude
In rain
Is this the mere beginning
Of my pain?

27 05 07

Take heart

My dear
If only you knew
The strange
The emptiness
The longing in my heart
For all of Light and Life
And you,
It remains for us
For you
It waits
It will wait forever
If you remain with me
And true.



In silence
On the cusp of sleep
I heard myself cry out
In pain, in terror of the old,
My memory of torment
And of coldö

I consider these lush forests
And the cleanliness of June
Renewal of the Spring
Escaped from Autumn,

I have had no summer yet
But Autumn comes yet twice (thrice?)
In my peculiar year
Prophesied when I had crossed the sacred threshold,
Now I am ambassador
To those who wait and mold,
Their conceits too modst
For the Work we must unfold

This dim and candlelighted gloom
Aglow with subtle light
Here again, as once before
I sensed a peace enduring
Here again, as never before
I carry one small spark
That is my hope.

Oh sweet, my love of yesterday
That bright jewel of Music
My sweet boy,
Do not be lost or misdirected
By discovering yourself
Do not mistake the spark of lust
For joy
There is so much unspoken
And to be discovered on the Way.

Who will find the peace of sanctity
The welcoming of Light
Of Life
The comfort of Our Love?
I hope, I pray, and gain again
My late sobriety,
I beg of God
To let you stay...
I ask in tears, again
On broken knees
Do not turn me now away.
The time is ripe,
So stay.

To the soul of Autumn
01 06 07
Johannes Kelpius Lodge, Boston


I am kind or cruel
Or sweetness
And the soul of discretion has adorned me
Depends upon the wisdom that I choose,
The bright jewel
Or simple dross,
But never can I turn my eye away
In passion or in pain
I am never indifferent
To the tears upon your face
Your sorrow ever roots me to my place.

For my sweet

04 06 07

The Pain

I see in your blue eyes
Belies the guilt I feel
Why do I bear guilt for you, who so calmly
Broke my seal?
I was aloof, and cold
For all these many years
My Love had been quiescent in my soul,
I promised I was not meant for rages
Of a passion uncontrolled.
Yet I could not remain that cold.

Oh William, who was so fierce
In conquest and in rage
I loved you then without discretion
And as I loved you
Waxed and grew, in sorrow,
More enraged.
You did not belong to me, and yet
We were engaged.
Wedded to a passion passing strange.

A flood of artless notes is my excuse
A cadenza may yet sound apology
But I must not stoke the passion
That provoked your passion’s rage,
I must find the note upon this page.

For WsB
In LhN

10 06 07


Am I sorrowful enough
To be more true
Am I loyal to the soul
That is the best of you?

Can we start again
On the carriage road to Leipzig
Toward the new?
This I cannot say
I bled a life’s regret
In your weeping, hollow eyes
What music has been lost
In my reprise?

I must be true
In my late respent resolve
I must be stern and disciplined
And undissolved,
And I will love you once again
In my peculiar way
That doesn’t feel like quite enough,

10 06 07

I slowed

I was in the depth of grief
Until I slowed.
I reached the height of fury
And my will remained uncowed
And my wisdom was enough,
Until I slowed.

And then,
There was no time
The clock remained quiescent
To the rhyme
I did the only duty
I could now have performed
And now my wisdom
Is by Life, transformed.

It was the hateful year
Of passing pain
Wherein we met
A lesson more than living
And of countless cold regrets
It was the year that ended
By my Bet.

I found the love I lost through sheer regret,
The tragedy, that we were too early met,
By circumstance, by curiosity, by rain
When we meet in future
We should not bear this wretched emptiness and pain.
I cannot bid you go
I must relent
And in refraining, grow
I could drown all over
Once again, from pain
But Dearest
We must not fail, again.

10 June 07
for Hayde

The Flaw

That stained us both, remains
As resonant with passion
As with pain
The closer we approached
This sweetness
Dearest, we are again
Embraced by pain.

We must be overcome
By purpose
By the holy light of reason
We could overcome the world if we but tried
The challenge to us both
Is ere we try,
The reward is not as sweet
As that victory
To be won in slow caress
But who but we
Could discipline
The fingers of our ancient, wayward hands,
Who but we
Could find our love in blue
Who but we
Will keep each other true?

For Hayde
10 06 07

World Weary

My time is not as yet so wasted
That I am fatigued to death
But now, I crave the new
The pressure of a discipline I had not felt
Since I was ignorant and dissolute
It is time
It is well past time
To work harder than I have
For many a long year
To delve into the musical heart
Of what I will one day be
I have dallied long enough
It is time to grow, and see
What my will and wisdom
When well-applied
Can make of me.

Upon rededication
10 June 07
over Atlantic

How To Rebegin

From a life of self indulgence in the pain
To greater occupation
To study and the greater good
The life and occupation of my soul.
There is suffering and death, Johannes,
There is indulgence everywhere
In me, and just as much in you
There is regret,
Just as much regret in me
As you.

I do not knwo another way
To make it up to you
My protege, the brief companion
Of my agonies
How do I stay the pain of old regret
With the pathos of my guilt, assuaged
I hated you for weakness
I hated you for love
I hated you for falling in the snare
That was ever ready
For a soul as bright as you.

R.S., an apologia
To Brahms
20 06 07

That Sweet Revenge

That swallowed me alive
Remains, remaining to be vivified by rhyme
She is avid in her threat
To destroy what seeks to thrive
She must not be stayed by me,
Nor by these gentle
Unawakened souls
Who just now open their eyes
Not by me will they be drawn
To sweet enchantment
In its honey-sweet disguise.

For the Tiere
On the Flood

10 06 07

The Doctors And Their Lawyers

Devout and moneyed
With a country house, somewhere on a beach
A swimming pool, a garden,
And a quart of whiskey, neat
They are well and plentifully supplied
They are the reason
Why my shade had died.

10 06 07

My soul

Is pining for my Light
My Life,
My Love,
To stretch those wings I never used
And dare to do,
To strike the chord of wakening
Ascend and be the New.

11 06 07

It Is Done

This little work of days
Begun upon the devil in the Saar
I sense the hope of morning
Dawn within me once again
And that delusion
Ever more to slake
The haunting of the concert halls
And graves
The opening of memory
As my consciousness is waked
I found at last
My Proprium,

11 06 07

Oh regret

You live on within my shade
That could not gasp the word
But music in its fanciful and bright
For every phrase of wonder
There is a pang new-felt
How much regret can I have
Since I have died
Were that I never drank, or died
But that cannot be
The past is only changeable in threes
My regret is important
To my little poems of please
Why must my shade
Remember me?

11 06 07

Autumn Becomes the Spring

Oh I am weary, darling
Of the things I cannot be
I am tormented
By the wretched man
I used to be.
I am in the prison of my lately-wakened mind
And memory is never very kind.

11 06 07

Oh Profligate

Can I blame my winnowing
On you entire?
I could lay the death of Schubert at your door
You would have us think
That passion gave to Music something more
Oh, it is a lie
That we long and often told
Our passion and our play
Were quickly sold.

For the Profligate
11 06 07

In the Tide, Upend

I was waylaid
Exhausted at last
I had become again my shade
All is strange
When I wake again
I remembered that my love is far from me
And far enough for us to think
Outside of passion’s play
Our time is fertile
Ripe with memory
To bring us to the keen awareness of the New
To understand the love we built, forever new
Ma passion is exhausted by your sighs
I remember nothing now
But that our passion lies
Please do not be pained
By memory that sees us incomplete
It is proper, and our truth today is meet,
The discovery is of this moment
And if we but forbear
We will see our love re-sweet
Do you not want that kind of love for me
For us,
Is there time enough
As time by tide upends
Is this, my foreign hope
A trifle, a conceit?
Let the music justify our life
Let the power of our spirit
Wipe away our strife.

For WsB
11 06 07

Website Traffic Report

Romances for String - Second Romance Section 1

Romances for String

Threshold Publishing Company
PO Box 4033
Blaine, WA 98231 USA

The Second Chapter
The Second Romance
9-September 2005

E. L. van Hine


It seems much more natural, since the ending of the Romances for String was such an arbitrary moment, to resume it as a chapter, as it were. Besides, no name came to me to indicate something new, even though everything about my experiences nowadays, is utterly new. New job, new country, new car, new home… all new.

In my virtual absence, America has once again been transformed and seized by disaster. This third time, I have also left and turned away, being spared the brunt of America´s reaction.

I spent Thursday night and part of Friday printing out and editing my letter to Grand Master Neff. I am hopeful of an early reply. Then I can attend my first Pyramidenfest.

German comes slowly. But it comes.

Tomorrow I return to Bonn for my first concert here, and stay is shopping, cleaning up, and setting up the computer. And perhaps, a bit of sleep. Ironing.

Cassandra (II)

How clearly did I see, that day,
When hatred of the Summer was upon me,
The rush of wind and water in deluge,
No wrath of God has made this come,
No crying out by vengeance made incarnate;

Forever are our vengeances our own
We make the time and tide upend,
We ourselves make disaster´s ken
Our reasons are the few
And little-shown.

But now, as I rest among the busy and secure,
I am new-One (won)
My labor was delayed.
Could I know? In retrospect, I see
Cassandra’s curse
Is much to blind to be.


What waits?

By the permission of your hand,
I would see the million die;
If it would make you stand
I know this is not so;
The Maiden must endure the next
And then the next relentless blow,

But will she stand?
This, I cannot say.
By circumstance, by righteousness
I must now turn away.
I have earned this quietude and rest
So that I can be myself again
What makes of me my best.

Music is my portion every day
And this is why
I must now turn away.


The Devil in the Saar

In the land of Industry and Wine
The blessed of Lord are gathered for the feast
They have let me come among them
Altestier, the Beast,
Transformed by Prudence
In the sanctum of the East.

Here, will the waters rise with Autumn storm
And this is ever so;
The Allgemein are much to wise to know.


Sunday, Nach Bonn

My Heimat and my curse
It makes to me a promised land
It makes of me my worst,
I am humbled by the coming of the Time,
I am blessed by He
Who ever makes him mein.

For LvB
The Rider on the Storm

They come,
I will not stay them,
Though I weep,
They come again and still,
I do not stay them
Lest I run.

I will not withhold the Storm
For I am mute; (Mut)
I will not give my quarter (Quartier)
It is Chute.

I have had the rising of the Fall
And now since the Fallen are a Rose
I will not be Frose. (Froese.)

Timaeus, Im Tempel

In the clarity of Heimat
Once again, with all my fellow Allgemein
I dreamed
Of sweeter love enfolded
The forms of future form ensouled by me
And that became my future then
All my loves and ladies
That became tomorrow
For that hour,
As I dreamed…

4 Uhr

Die Krise Dauert

When the flood of Beauty
Tyrannize our gulf,
I am in the Wald.

24.09.04 (sic)
In Equinox
Almost in Solstice
20 minutes, after 3.

Pyramidenfest 2005

And so, they die
Sixteen were counted
On the day we prayed a Lie,
We were angels on the Lea
As the light retreated E
My mind was black with pain,
As the Lady wept in Rain.



He fills my night with pain,
I sleep the evenings of their days
I wake their nights to day.
This will be my duty every day
A work for two
As long as I will stay.

For the Lion

Friday nach Bonn, nach Endenich

I was too Muted by the halting of my breath
To speak or write, or even lately wake
I sought the beauty of the music in the Rhein
Quietude and scudding clouds
The Autumn of the Summer
As the Summer lately cools.

My passion will not cool
My child life, my quickly-risen Lust
Will ne’er be cooled.

For Florestan
Newly re-excited.


As we stood

Gazing at the cliffs
My breath was shortened
And my back and legs were stiff.

She would not be slowed
And sauntered far away
Forgetting the secret passion for my death.

I lingered long
Adoring that sweet valley which
Brought my dreams back home
In sadness, in the splendor of the Sun,
And I grew still
Stiller yet, withholding breath
As I beheld that glory
She would not be stayed
And so she missed
The seventeenth and eightieth final
Rehearsal of my death.


The Devil in the Ahr

The peace I held within me does not stay;
I am withheld, made drowsy
By the sameness of my day
And soon, I must awake
To touch the strings of hot desire
To be slaked.

When will She be slaked?
Is it blood that she desires now to take?
This I cannot know
Her hurricane betrays the fiercest undertow.


How I ache

After endless counting out of hours,
Grappling myself from heavy sleep
I am dreamless in exhaustion
So my terrors seem to keep
Would that I could dream
Until I sleep…

Saturday on the Rhein and Ahr

So tired…
I come to lose and then to find
The book that represents my death
The Romance that for nothing more than spite
Would spell my death.

Oh wickedness, must Thee persist another day
To haunt me with unnecessary symbols
Hastening the weary end of day?
I can count the ending of my days
30 days and nineteen
Are counted from the moment of my birth
This would mean for coming of the time,
The Solstice Fest.
Would I be wise
When on that day
I symbolize that Death?
Am I a bitter,
Or a wiser man today,
As I rehearse a hundred fifty years later
This baneful holiday.
For I must stay.

After losing the Second Romance

The Orangerie

Among the cultured, the refined,
I feel but gross and stumbling
The foreigner, who cannot count in coins
I feed, as they, without their manners
And thus I am revealed
Perhaps I am Exotic in the planted
Gardens of their life
A thing alone and lost
And yet, at home,
A thing uprooted
From the past I wish to see
And am, what I will always be.


Give me

Better occupation
Than this wait
Give me challenge for the poet
And the Rhyme,
I am sanctified
And soon I take the Wein.


The Peace of Hours

As the long-building
And long-restrained revenge is formed
In threat
In quietude
In space
Bring the fire down
To bring us Grace,
Bring the Speaker’s corpse
Into the Town.

- for the Americans in strife.


The Death That Lurks

Spares me wrath
And leaves my cares behind
I am in my element
The Mansion of the Mind
How long-awaited, and now-shown
How many times
I would not grow or groan,
The death that lurks
Is not my own
It is something passing from my eyes
And from my home.


Science Park

The silent place
Insular from breath and the strife
Of even that small City
I call home,
Trier, the old and quiet place of Wine
I find within
The love that makes me Mein.

Oh Lion, steadfast in your Anonyme,
You are too well known to me
To stay a stranger long,
We will be known, known longer
And schon lang,
To write the allegory of the Song.

He is song, my little Friedrich
Pining for completeness in his Will
The Master gives him far too much
And he grows sooner Ill,
I except him, for his Still.

For Czar,
And Friedrich


Oh Sleep

I beg for you again, again
There is not enough of you
To make me slumber deep
I crave the wakefulness of Prophecy
The greeting of my Meister
I will conquer Sleep.

Too much wine has left me empty
To be filled,
I beg, I beg again for love to conquer Ill
The Eventide is come,
The evil of foreboding is my portion,
And I wake,
I wake.



By that Light
That represents my Truth
What use is pleasure
When it soon will grant me pain?
I must be above
To reunite the soul to me
That grants me Life and Love

And my conscience chastens me
What have I wrought in ignorance
That makes my life a lie?
Am I not as Altestier
Whose lusts would bid me die?

Perhaps I am
But today I do not lie
The fantasy of yesterday
Will not now make me cry.

I must be above
The harbinger of future Life
Of reconciliation
What will grant the healing
To my wild Love
What within me is of Symbol
What of Truth
This, I cannot know

This Metaphysik
Is a most peculiar Truth
As yesterday, in the Grief of Autumn
Did I think disaster would be mine
Impending on the coasts of Canada
I was wrong, yet right
Disaster struck at its appointed hour
And was ripe
These things are done in my peculiar sight
This love is done
In my peculiar Night.

14 Oct 05

Morgen in Liebe

Morgen ist meine Tee so suss
Wann ich die Liebe fühle
Und Liebe, fühl´ ich mehr
Im Morgen, in den Garten
In Trier

Dann fange ich an eine großem Werk
Die großest Unternehmung
Des ganzen Lebens Wohl
Stoppt nur dreimal beim ganzen Ignoranz;
Das kontinuiert in Liebe, aussere
Die Verlorung, des meines Liebsten zweit´Romanz.

14 Okt

Back in Trier

This day, made black with dust and death
Abbreviates my inner joy with brittle grief
My mind is tense and anxious
As I feel the pain,
The horror of the lately lost and innocent…

Why must the ire be to God
All this loss and poverty is known
And known to be inevitable,
This is what I fail to understand,
The toppling rubble from the ravages of Earth
Is no surprise, and yet
We offer no protection against death
I wait in joy, in comfort in my wealth
And am unharmed
It is my fate this night
To be unArmed.

Nell’s Park

Liebe 777

I fell to sleep, in a most peculiar moment
And heard the voice, which whispered
In my newly-acquired tongue
“The six have reached their sweet sixteen;”
And I wondered…

Do I find them in this land
Among the steadfast and unbroken?
Will I hear the strain of violin
And know that hand?
Like the flame aburst from coals
Like the mountain’s echoed land
This I dream
But I cannot know
Their feet walk numberless
Upon Alsatian snow.

I will know them
When it’s time to know.

upon Eclipse
Trier, Endenich


The beauty of the pianistin’s hands
So unlike my own,
Their skill she wrought
From the angry place
A pleasure I have never known.

These are not old, nor angry songs
Nor even heard on common days or suppers,
This is just for us, Enthusiasts
of inner harmonies
Of joys that spring forever new
And make our joys complete

And so, tonight I watch
The pianistin’s hands
In the finest satisfaction
I have known
My pleasure has its passion’s undertone.

For BW
at Schumannhaus

602 at A1

The time is 5:15
The cross is made in air
Before my sight
As the twenty first of storms
Is fast-prepared.

565 at 61
The time is 6:45
Another sign fulfills the baleful sky
The moon has waxed
And past eclipse

The world has had its fill of signs
And I am brief-subdued.
I feel the energy of my Exception to the Clause,
This is my happy death
My death-knell’s Pause.


Nachtrichten (Night News)

It is the Grief of Autumn, finally,
I cannot stay unmoved
Belabored, kinder, yet angry in my place
My haven is the vast Alsatian space.

Today, as ravages refuse to keep
And I, the Music, do not stay…
The millions cower,
And the thousands die.

I gave a widow’s mite
And that made me rejoice an hour
But sooner still, I cried.

I cannot help the countless
Who wait their turn to die
The countless wings
That lift together, fly;

This is our nightly news
This is what our fatal indecision
Made us choose.


Are they kinder

By degrees, my wretched sons
Who rose upon their knees
But it is not for me to say,
Which is great of heart
And which will waste away…
There are far too many things
Cassandra does not see
And most of them
Are ifs, that may yet be.


The Bees Among the Peas

Why do I rail and chasten
These the mass-encountered host unworthy?
Is it still I do not know
And spill infertile seed
Upon the unrepentant ground?

For whom, then, will I sing?
When exhaustion pulls me underground
And cowers on the wing?
Perhaps for none, or two
Perhaps the Nothingness
Will yield to something true
I have no wisdom in my soul today,
I have only darkness, the light
And fragile teardrops
Of the Autumn on my brow
Nothing comes of Sight
Into the Now.


Who is to say

What cheers me
In the Autumn of the Morn?
I regard the quickly racing clock
And know I will be shorn.

My day of reckoning is ever now and fresh,
What fast approaches
Is the most peculiar
Happy death.

For Altestier
Upon his 150th death.




Threshold Publishing Company
PO Box 4033
Blaine, WA 98231 USA

E. L. van Hine

The Last Days

Are at last, at end
And here I pray
For the end of these hard days of want;
And harder days of memory
Of poverty and strife

Let there be an end to strife
The losses that were so many years

Let there be an end
To suffering the loss of something
That was never mine to hold
The life I live is never
Quite mine, or quite so sooner old.


This Strangeness

I have lived a year of days
Between the moment you appeared to me
To take my pains away
They cannot be taken
Not for minutes, nor for days
The pain your love awakes in me
Is strange

Never was my openness and light
Been so warped to craze
This sojourn is the end of pain-filled days.

Was it this I must become
Learn the hardest lesson ere I wake
Forever chastened by your lust?
I will not forget
The ache you put inside of me
It will ne’er be slaked

Look what you have done to me
And only you it seems
Are willing for my death to bid me come
This strangeness will not go
Not by my turning shy
Nor by my quiet show
I must be resolved
And in my knowing, undissolved

Did I waken you?
Today, I doubt
Your enlightening is hopeful
But not the purpose I had come to you about,
Will I waken you?
This, I ever doubt.

For L.


The End of Pain

Is in my peculiar sight
I had yearned for peace, and prayed
Until it came to me by night
Never was my heart so full
And never will so slight
As when I found surcease at last
In the stillness of the night.

I have had my fill of pain
Of wandering
Forever in the search for some new thing
Is it now found?
Can I rest at last
Knowing I am safe and trusted?
This will soon be seen
It is time my wandering should cease
It is time for the rule of peace.

18 06 07


My love is not
As I would have her be,
Determined in sobriety
Rescued by the Lea,
She is not, nor has ever been
What I would have her be.

I am not what she would have me be,
Living on the verges of materia
A pauper in the masses
A failure in my art
Beginning, tottering
In avoidance of that Fame
Bloated white with anger
And so obviously lame.

And I will never be
And truly said, neither will she
We struggle with the memory of passion
And of pain
We strive against the ghosts
Of what we used to be.

22 06 07


So, my sweetness
Humbled first by memory and Fame,
We have begun again
Richer by degrees
Wiser than we were
When we were shamed.

Oh how I wanted you
My love, I cannot lie,
Passion has the strength
To make me cry,
I ached forever
Till I died,
Thus was my rebirth described.

Give me time
And I will grant you peace
The patience that I never felt nor showed,
Give me peace, my precious soul,
And I will grant you time
And in this way
I will be yours
And you, forever mine.

For Lea,
28 June 07

The Nickel Man

Let me tell you about the Nickel Man
Foreigners, my father said
Foreigners to whom I once was wed,
Foreigners for whom
I once was bled.

War broke out within me
As the Foreigner laid bare
And I trembled as my poem
Received the Ayer.

I cannot say all that I know
But that I have the worst
I cannot say what Judgement has pronounced
But I am both weak and terse
I will not say
The meaning of this verse.


The One I Love

Has done her worst to you
And rendered me to null
And this, if it means the worst
I cannot forgive.

Messiach, is this our wasted day
Will that unread prophecy
Quietly, unknown, be now fulfilled?

We have drawn companions close to us
Who serve us naught but ill,
And we who would be faithful,
Labor faithful still

We are too few
And once again, I ask
Are the lamps of evening
Merely two?

For the Numen

The Proud Monarch

Why does she hold herself apart
This salutary strutting hen
Who serves in quiet grace
She makes me wonder
As to knowledge she withholds
Perhaps she nurtures memories
Of glories of her ken

I was the leader
Of a band of ruthless men
She may not endure me well
This queen of Emerald Isle
She may not approve
My foreigner’s rough style.

I am abjured
But we are bound,
She must serve me too
Or go to ground
She may endure me yet
Before this Round.

For the Master-Servant

Who can say

The meaning of this cold and summer day?
Am I surrounded by my friends
Ere I am cold?
I fear what comes
In this third millennial Rain
I fear the revelation of this Storm.

I have been stained
And few have seen the memory
Of my pain.

I hesitate, but have not long
Before the end
Before the world will see
The Time and Tide upend
And all will be renewed
Washed to glittering effulgence
From this stew
I will be among them
Until the world has ended
And is new.


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