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The Music of the Now Age IV.

“Skin is the Only Palimpsest”

Out of my proud, hard, melodious ulcer
comes a dream too bitter to be angry,
too sad to be bitter. We dreamers cured of The Answer
must solace our lostness with the Double Ulgry.

This gift, perhaps the last I have to give,
savor of myrrh, orgeat, Chartreuse and blood,
golden at dawn a gossamer caryatid
(contrail or portent), Djuna—is my love.

You said, you could have slept last night in my arms;
I wanted that, too. I wanted, beyond reprieve,
a knowledge that was also a path. We carve
passage in the dark with just such dreams:
a way where none may go, we go. Though not to leave.

The fourth track of this is one of the greatest spoken word recordings ever made.

“A philosopher is crying in a glass maze.” –@magicrealismbot

Charlie the Goat.