THE TRAILING ARBUTUS
Prologue to the fructification of the Tellus within

The physical world, according to quantum mechanics, is "not a structure built out of independently existing un-analyzable entities, but rather a web of relationships between elements whose meaning arise wholly from their relationship to the whole."


In a mad dream last night there appeared a strange vision:
Magma, glowing magma, erupted suddenly as out of nowhere out from a dormant belly covering the earth: It was the ancient Cannibal Mother poised as the earth-body, now talking to me, erotic as the flux of fiery being, codified in elliptical arrays throughout the menancing substance all around and as the personified eclipse of symbolic language, she said in a thunderous voice:
"To the noble illuminaries of finite existence - turn your gaze around. Eat my reflected words in the temporal light of the invisible mirror... see the mirror of my body... mirrors sowed in spectral futures, as the lips of night close in on you, covering your body with the saliva of my past."
In the dream I then replied revolted:
"I shit on you thus, dear mother archontes: With reverent devotion ardently I pray to the Infinite Absence... Ein Soph, deliver me not, do not grant me your salvation in the caverns of your bloodstained earth..."
She cut me off abruptly:
"My supernal sayings will bury you, little human. I have no name.Ancient, I come to you from a forrest of sunday chance. I am your blind spot, the heavy rains in alternating dimensions drowning out your self. Do you have trouble recognizing 'yourself'?"

Starring into the blind spot, I suddenly saw a swarm of insects appeared. Like floating words, or syllables, or letters, they masked the reality as...

• A parasitical wasp
• A radiance of illumination
• A non-seeing child

NO! Night made visible by day...

"It has become that other shell, a planet moving still, in primordial darkness - archontes deep within - to a circle attracted, superior silence broken, adamantine bodies hanged in empty spaces inbetween... I, the emptiness of mind, feel no sky, no night, no day, no prison called home, no dwelling in translucent skeleton-circles..."

Thus go find your own skeleton-key

in the magnetic mud of mind

it's a sumpteous gift sunken deep - like fluttering lips inside your skull: there it's night...

I will impress upon thy mind, the image of sub-conscious subversion: contorted communication fornicating vividly with the iris of the moon in your eye.

Let us begin the the fructification of the inner earth in the subterranean soil of the psyche's intertwined symbols doubled beyond the current exterior epoch. The reverberating distention can not disengage its nodes from the soil-flesh. Concretion ensues. Movement begins. Viberation commenced in the flesh-soil. The symbolic fundamentals exude reverberation.

To gaze upon an ocean alone - invisible insects fluttering by a broken mirror.

A silk-light hypnosis fertilize time. The temporal becomming in a cherub-hydra thus agree, in the swindle of fearful lights, to be lodged as specters copulating in the dark and deep of the empty spaces in between, traveling along the glaring tide of Deus Absconditus - she said:

"The surplus must be dissipated through deficit operations"

Executions beyond fictional fantasies: reality is pure energy!

"You can not see it as it is lodging its immaculate conception in your immediate shadow (as we are all nomads in our heart), a shadow increased by folds, evaginations and invaginations - I have witnessed the nomadic triumph in exile, though not with my sight, as I nourished my own blind spot for years in the belly of the mother, polishing the blindness in spite of the constant drizzle of incomprehensible specks of dust (not just of words) in the soil of thinking. A paradoxical mirror I have become, cracked and sunken into the mind/flesh as presence, as the tell-all of the self-conscious debris pulsating outside my human brain. A blind mirror in the stomach. And in the blind spot I saw myself ascending the base and summit of Apeiron."