June 24th, 2007

(no subject)

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 2)

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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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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