MILK TO FAITH
Report Back from the Crossed Threshold
*published in CLOCKED OUT MAGAZINE*
They looked around what they called New Mexico and decided it was perfect for summoning the devil. Bending letter and number into sigils, calling them mathematical symbols and drawing them in scratchy GLORIOUS chalk on dusty chalkboards, wearing suits and ties their wives helped them with in the morning, licking milk from the glass on the table off their lips before heading to the lab, mundane daydreams turn swiftly from the cock stiffening fantasies of the spread legs of secretaries, to the tinkering problems of isotopic separation of uranium-235, the casing surrounding the trigger, the decoded messages of the enemy, their orders, their superiors and the race to create the first nuclear weapon. Its 80 years after the portal of TRINITY nuclear weaponry was first opened, BONES TO PHILOSOPHY and we’re in this truck ripping through new mexico on our way to White Sands National Park where matter of fact brown road signs for the White Sands Missile Range inform us of our place in the historical matrix, the sky meets the earth in sublime polarity. The rocky glaciers scrape the soothing blue, leaving no scars but the wispy clouds. We then are BUT MILK completely surrounded within the White Sands Missile Range cause it turns out its not an exit its an entering, and we’re driving through and within it. Across this landscape, unravelling necromantic equations, men spent their days categorizing all TO FAITH the scattered tasks that distract from what the tasks are to complete, obfuscating the purpose, consuming greedily WHICH the momentum of the driving enveloping towardsness, entranced with the act of formation, putting of the consequence. Here the trinity test site named after the poem bolded within these lines, felt the weight of the plutonium, the blood of the split nucleus of uranium, as the trigger for the atom bomb. The missile range encompasses the largest area of any military installation AS WISE SERPENTS in the United States. Its boundary mostly within the Tularosa Basin including Jornada del Muerto, in english, “the Route of the Dead Man” named by Spanish settlers when in 1670 they DIVERSELY. discovered the bones of a dead german on this colonizer’s wagon path headed west. The atom most “alive” is found in what we call uranium, which German scientist Martin Heinrich Klaproth named after the newly discovered planet uranus for the god of the sky. The rocky glaciers scrape the soothing blue, leaving no scars but the MOST SLIPPERINESS- wispy clouds. We drive through the entrance gate, the road becomes covered in snow-like sand till it disappears. Cars YET MOST park slowly into spots determined for them that become faded by the gypsum crystals spreading like oil across the attempts at some permanence of “civilization”, we walk towards a solar panel craning up towards the sky, wires snaking into the sand below the miniature telephone tower structure, the thing looks completely alien and ridiculous ENGTANGLINGS HATH- like a shitty science fiction prop of a 60’s radio antenna on the moon we look out at the vastness not consumed by the sand, the mountains surrounding this little aberration. I get completely naked. Aria pees AS YOU DISTINGUISH’D- and bleeds on the sand. I rub the sand all over myself trying to get inside. A brittle piece of foil curls and UNDISTINCT- grips at the sky like all the strange plants finding their homes in river like patches in this strange and familiar place. Pulling the sand around me my fingers paintbrushes next to baby feet prints and bobble trees BY POWER- and the wind creased curves of dunes. LOVE- More trash makes itself visible. A spider crawls up the long sharp leaf of the Yucca tree. Beer cans from the 90s with pull tops and styrofoam cups call to us. We oblige and fill our hands and arms with trash. Time has long been stopped, there is nothing to signify the movement of us in it. It is here that the earliest KNOWLEDGE BE- known footprints were found in what is called north america, some 21-25,000 years ago alongside massive ground sloths and mammoths. This element plutonium, named for the god of the underworld, did not exist in the universe before they created it. But when this living atom is split, plutonium is released. So maybe they GIVE ME A SUCH released it. And if they released it, its released from somewhere, some other world. They released it from some world of pluto and it entered ours. As an entity, it longed to be released from SELF DIFFERENT INSTINCT- its atomic egg cracked, maybe its longing to live, going forth and multiplying, fermenting and breeding, breathing out of in the OF THESE concrete cooling towards scattered across the world, released after the energy of the cracking shell boils water, steam to LET ALL ME turn turbines, to power cities to create more of it, set on rivers of clean water, seeping into the earth for generations an ancient struggle for rebirth, ELEMENTED BE- reintegration into the cosmos persists with the help of war mongers, soulless men, it triggers explosions unimaginable, eviscerating, spreading its self. Imagine 250,000 years. Maybe it wasn't allowed, in to this realm, and through the eons it found its puppets in subtle possessions of certain creatures, OF POWER- kept them close to royalty and government and later corporation, bent history towards this technological progress, rung siren bells at pitches perfect for the ears of power hungry souls and helped them to slither into the right positions. It introduced men to women, helped them to birth the sons and daughters who became the fathers and mothers of nuclear power, nodded from the other side when they discovered TO LOVE- nuclear reactions, when they measured the decay of uranium and its radioactive emissions. Maybe it took thousands of years. Maybe its in every story we’ve ever heard. The more “alive” an atom is means that its radioactivity is closer to the conditions present at the origins of the universe. Since elements are radioactive, radioactivity is the aliveness of all things, its the pulse of the universe, and the less radioactive, the more they have “cooled” since the dawn of it. TO KNOW YOU This atom found in uranium, is in a way closer to the source, the monad of all things. It was discovered, killed, and ripped apart and when it was murdered it cried a waste so radioactive that it disrupts the electrical charge between the holy bonds of molecules, the proteins that make up the spiral DNA sequences of life causing the programming of our containers to glitch and malfunction. These tears eviscerate and transmorph the miracle of form. This blood is used to trigger the nuclear bomb. Blooming like a tumor the explosion unfolds itself against the sky. A seed wants to become a sprout. A sprout its beyond want, YOU its purpose. Its a time thing where time does exist and it is always. It is one of the everything. So what about the bomb? They looked around what they UNNUMBERED THREE called new mexico and saw test sights and vacancies in the fabric of the soul that mirrored their own enough for this work to be done. In this desert sits what we call White Sands which is like an anomaly like something is wrong but when you are there it feels right like home and I get completely naked. They drop the bomb on hiroshima. The first atom is split. I’m rubbing the white cool sand over my body. The mushroom cloud floats in the sky. The bodies eviscerate. The German dies. The weapon is finished. The road is disappeared by sand.
—--=-=-=-=-=-==---=====--------------==----------==-----=---------------====---------------=----===------
Its shocking how my mind can change around
day to day or, not my body, but myself
inside my body in my body like the place i am in in
there. We go crazy at work, our sexual
tension has turned into hoots and hollars
and I turn into a a thing, wiggling sharp
insect bones around my mouth and everytime someone walks
in we become still images, so good at having a job
- ten years ago you wouldn't even see two on the street -
when they leave its back to crazed motion and now
the tension has disturbed like it might make her
want to use again, i wonder if thats who she calls when she steps outside.
Calendared us. From the not ours, not anyones. Schismed into a lack of past, a long ruler, negative as negative, never bending as light does, but stretching flat, unknown to earth, negative to positive, positive as positive. the grip, tight palmed captivating all senses, to tether the possible to blank. facilitate control tether it to time or else there could be 4 yolks (whose surroundings, the whites, the shell remain out of mind), each over a million years long 3 in the past, to define the stage between creation and the end, but not the end end but bended, like light does, back around. here in the 4th yolk, shorter now than those preceding, we are trapped in an era of repetition, conflict and sin in which we can not escape. Here we exist at the furthest distance to the divine. Here perhaps, these sorts of interconnectivities, or synchronizations, the fact you can divine from dipping your ladle in the meshy stew soup tangle of matter floating around our heads limbs and breasts, these coincidences and kismets, collisions and convergences where you can say name one day and see the face the next after years of separation or find the book with the words in it that mirror the conversation you had the morning of, or hear on the radio the biography of a different man with nearly the same words as the one in the page before you to describe such a specific experience one must put their hands up and surrender, these sorts of things which tangle are tight here. Loosened in other phases of yolks. A quelling of the phasing, between the formality of Chaos and the formality of Order, the transference between states, or revolution, and the liquidity, fluidity of states of being might approach, smoothing into oneness, a pearl. Let the whale from land from sea to sea once more. All things describing themselves and each other, perhaps a curse, perhaps a sort of living hell. repetition, repetition with that sort of helplessness. Often we are stuck in sort of loops, a record skips. There is too of course, the deepest magic in refraction, in feedback. Begin to widen, doppler, repeat the phrases expand in proximity to the source. Feedback. Let the whale from land from sea to sea once more. All things in relation to patterns which present themselves in most, or all things. The most truth in the mirroring, in the thing that gets born. Now pattern everything, sometimes. Fear a godless universe. There is no way to imagine an eye that sees itself. An orbit that orbits itself. Natural satellites, the shapes of orbits, and their tidal motions from perigee to the furthest distance of the satellite from its companion, apogee, the pull back and forth between order and chaos, the chaos of order and the order in chaos, and the space between where so much magic happens. Tension. Orbits give a hierarchy. Satellites as companions. Sometimes things have more weight than other things. So this calendar, this larger scale calendar regards the orbiting pattern of us to divinity, or god. The calendar comprehends this in terms of cycles of orbit, and understands we are currently at the furthest apogee from the divine. It does something in its cosmological orbit, it is aware that when something is at its furthest from its companion, there it is able to complete the form - the substance - of closeness. And only with closeness, can something be deemed relative enough to manufacture a concept of distance. This is quite literally darkness and light. Day and night. Grant a wider correlation of life patterns with orbits, look at these phrases robust embrace cosmology.
MY BOSS WENT ON A WHITE HOUSE TOUR
My boss just got back from touring the west wing of the White House
He says its so astounding that a mere mortal can have this access.
He says he went to the situation room His client pauses ‘thats where they watched Bin Laden get taken down’ They both manifest patriotism.
What history there! There is art everywhere he says The art! Those halls!
They sat in the chair that Biden sits in everyday In the conference room. He takes a deep breath. He takes care in describing the table. It wasn't a perfect rectangle, it bowed out, bowed out so you see everyone's face, and you feel powerful It’s important to see everyone When you are the president
He said the flags were half mast all day but he didnt know why. The client says i think it was holocaust memorial day. He says is that it?
Later he comforts a woman Who says This is war This is what you do in war
MY BOSS TOOK A plantation tour once In Louisiana And they claim that’s where the mint julep Was invented.
The day he was in DC Someone drove into the gates of the whitehouse and died He thought why the flags were half mast His clients says it really shows the strengths of the gates doesn't it.
Today they began the ground invasion Of Rafah His client says This is war. This is what you do in war.