JUXTA/ELECTRONIC #10 Editors: Ken Harris, Jim Leftwich VINCENT FERRINI ***** ***** ***** PREAMBLE TO DIVINITY ***** What is the poet's medium? Language - what is language for - PARTICIPATION to deliver his emotional MIND - to whom, ears and ears, all the senses, and extras - to whom - everyone even those lacking senses or other faculties - a poet can write for himself and for other poets but it is proper that he invade all audiences, animate and inanimate - everything is available for him and her and the first primal being is the foetus, and the INFANT - this is where we start, to catch the Unconscious, which is wide open, unconditionally - where the poet is as poet and POET and to get there the Poet has to become that Infant already there - at that place being securely there the Poet is the primal Magician - a transformer of Matter, Mind, and the Maker of Experiences that effect other planes of Existence - that poet is the Heartmind of the Individual, the animal, the insect, loam of the Earth, and the Cosmic awareness & openness of the Infant No one and anything is Excluded - that Infantpoet is the subtle Bodysoul flowing in & out of Conscious/Unconscious BEING The world itself is also there at that secretself in the Infant state but it lost touch, because the Poet its Tongue has lost the ability to Communicate in every phase of the Human Condition - Once that Poet seizes the Power inherently aching for recognition, the Divinity is operating through that Agent - It is an awesome task, but that powerless Power is Contagiously suffusing each moment the Whole is hiding in - It is the unceasing Rhythm of Delighting the senses of Joy before & behind us - O Poet, join the Ecstasy the Infant is in & the Language begins! The INFANT knows & is ready! We are at the bottomless ***** Ex Cathedra The Poem aint words alone, it waits The Poem cant stop on the page The amount of energy determines the duration and the destination The words, spoken or read, are a surplus value of concentration enhancing Nature and extra dimensions To get the poet out of the way for delivering the living water After that everything works by itself That Action alters the person, the family and the surrounding community For the life-engendering forces of surprising The Poem, mating with Action Words having concrete existences Every daynight is pure gold the 3 words Listen to them the unspeaking clogged mirror hybrids dead-end breakthrough complex clear words of the Ocean washing the shores in endless coitus ask Solitude and it will grin in its quietness lines of verse at ease in thine inkpot Print is unobtrusively liquidating species and extinctions scribblings fading into unseeings with us a word is a cohabitation or a hermit and the Alphabet is a drugstore we cant live without the rhythm, innuendo, a diving off into a seizure a brainclutching ghost on the walls of Hell or on a Goddess nipple & the billions who have never heard a poem, not seen one in motion are each one of them immersed in a private poem ah yes the Catharsis or the equivalent of a good shit as the masses immured in wholebodied poems the companionship of tribes style inbreeding name it and you have it that's our yet & exclamation music on word on tongue in mouth get as close to it as you can & disappearing alpha omega sucking fucking everyone's birthright poem I have not yet read any long poem as engrossing as RULE of the BONE by Russell Banks a prose as good as any great epic - and this is one by a 14 year old kid, speaking the tales from beginning to end everyword singing aloud, ... Banks was once editor of a small magazine in New America remember the Iliad, the Odyssey, great story tellings Banks is in that company of straight concentrated English as the Greek The Mind has to listen to the Belly either way - the bloody emotions - too much Head Unbalances the Soul's cosmos When poetry turns away from its origins it eats itself Poetry is in a Crisis - In my serpentship, poets are seers in action when English is charged with emotion Language is on a Honey Moon! the wells of the ears & eyes are fathomless The Body of the Mind is visceral Each is a tale of the Erudite the Exemplar a child writes a poem so does a crone or a betrayed one in prison that poem raised the hair on the neck of Psyche or froze your heart shoved you into another seclusion shows you fear in the SUN turning black rising try as I do some connect obliquely strict as a tulip as a tent of words for a home or games for the idle surfeited any arousal on the written or spoken holdfast barriers armed, billboarded, and secured for outaspace maneuvers and the extraterrestrials on wordings or be left behind the undivided warrior or the multitudes still buried in skald preBiblicals responsibility is a shibboleth of a posthistoric Past reflecting the Future's inward vast voyagings O the songs of the Order/Chaos shudder The contest to fix eternally who is to spearhead the new riddles the Nations still diddling around with the ethnics, murders, and genocide after the death of the creeds, social experiments, the Religion of the Free Market, the modem dinosaurs the private psyche outdated not enough mothers' milk generations brought up on the bottle the blood of INK bypassed for anemic photocopy the dryness is suffocating the brain is frantic for OXYGEN Ersatz is the rebuilt godhead the MIND slinks away from enervating repetitions the simple and abstruse is verboten do you think the children are blind to the Bullshit O vunderful outwitterings! dont dare question PROFIT, the ultimate Value kids raid the stupidities of Self Interest the sacredness of Doubletalking and the poets, magicians of the word where are they who gives them any attention besides other makers of the same O how lucky we are with Mary Daly! Supreme Mindmistressmaster Metaphysician of Words who grasps their origins immediately & acts upon them with them! who masticates them alive, digests them spits them out & shits them rejuvenating, regenerating, shooting Fire into a single word blowing up a connivance world & putting it back transforming the dialogue reinventing the LANGUAGE at the dirtheld roots! O Mother Genius remaking the Whole Creation! This Serpent's radiating vision come by a clover blossom's revelation of I am aboriginal pathfinding recharging her sisters and brothers Seer phenomenon this united woman! No poet has set my mind blazing as she has! Karl Marx & dialectical materialism July 4th, all ways a Springboard - this woman has 3 balls! a man is also equipped but the head interferes with stark gut observations he is not a birther - A man is only an instrument of the process - she has the uni/verse in her Body - knowing what that entails & what it means & what for - She is the Nurturer & the Slayer! Wit's woman is a handful of hot coals on fire seeing the infrastructure, the underpinning, the smokescreens I know because each word's steaming is in my veins the history of it and humanity's inhumanity victims of words and their poisons - that are killers & healers they lead astray they are a PRINT that closes up the eyeballs - Mary is Psyche of words, she instantly sees the pimples and the pus the loam-loaded, the tributaries at cross-currents in the body the Mind fucks over & into the conflicts jump at her she is a comrade to moods and meanderings the Shadows revealing their depths & what they dont say are her encyclopedias words are red and white corpuscles subject to dividing & conquering & enlightening Eumenides Seer defusing the wrong power inhibiting & inhabiting words our world is made by & the use of words is the beginning of communication The Seer has insight into facsimiles of conniving She has the tinctures for the Self the facts of the family & the machinations of the community as the Mary Harrington, Mayor of our city - Dazzling Daly is a Superwizard of the Word & the Deed Study these women & the changes within will bring you the power you have been robbed of by corrupted values - it is the saltblood of the Mind's Oceans that count & no one owns this POEM! the stars are rock and roiling Soul's Light & diatoms! I don't need poetry I was born with it so is everyone What's the prize the spider is not alone & each is by Hinterlandia's VERVE & the light-house here cometh the New Jesuits the Rhythm of Stuck in a machine does the stone think or the atom we are in Pandora's pith & this POEM is everywhere capturable by the Gift of giving the rest is overflowing for visiting containment the agents of changing MERCURY O! being in the world & out of for it swingalong go down. Euthanasia. kick high sweet Gabriel the foreigners are clamoring at the Gates the way back no longer works for the ancestors Unions went with the iron horses the Death date is checked the road signals save the cities what has all this to do with safety nets when it's Art that knocks oblivion flat wheel the hoopla abiding by your inclinations the world is not your cockadoodle bangbang stay with your screening leave a drawing a poem an invention & let Conscience take care of itself the SOUL is shrinking America is the Arctic of compassion Combine the female Walt Whitman with the male Emily Dickenson living in Blake's pupils the Fact before the Face *************** ***************