The Outsider (Part IX)

This is a continuation. To start from the beginning, click here.

The girl of auburn locks looks to the night
And whispers in e minor to the moon
And looks for wild geese already flown away
Breathes, and purses her lips
And walks tetchily homeward down a matted trail
And into a field freshly snowed
Meets a blue heron, who stands solid
And motionless recalling map pins and tiny flags.

On this snowy plain near the mansion
In this inverted season, the ice is melting
As stolid glaciers melt, below the surface
There exists a secret fault, the final answer within.
Winter goes, and spring comes,
The dead lie dreaming ever near.
We dip our hands in the same dish
Did not see that one coming
Goog goog goog
Into the lake of fire. And the band
Threw down their instruments

Between the Nahrain the nightmare rouses itself,
Born of the boots, raised by the saw
Nursed by the pear in that banal museum.
The guests loiter, eyeing the prepared table.
She wipes the dry death from the setting
A H
al-Haqq: where are we going?
Citizens, a white cloud falling over my eyes
The killing letters of a fire-breathing text
Proffered to a numbed generation of sleepers
While elders, who go before, paint themselves sages
Needing no mirror to see their own eyes
And dictating spirit terms with their absolving pen
And contemning their heirs with puffy abuse
As their fire flickers and dies
A H
al-Hail: I have seen the stone
Traced the stone with my finger and known
I spoke of the stone, always in my mind
Acting on the stone, the calling in my mind
Purpose I find, aevanescent recollection
Attention means attention
A H
al-Hubb: From his gaze the shining sun
Was formed, his mouth breathed thunder and fire
Even as we breathe, from his navel all space
Was formed, one blood, uncountable heads and eyes
Beyond grasping hands

I sat in the nothingness
Thinking, before the all was
Thus I thought up all the world

He screams and he cusses and wrecks all the busses

Qu’as-tu fait de ta jeunesse
Ô toi que voilà pleurant sans cesse―lat be lat be
Dis-moi, qu’as-tu fait?
These eyes have seen across ages
Through every man’s sight. Purusha seith this.
Al-Haqq. Al-Hail. Al-Hubb.

Ji ji mu ge


Not the end!!! Come back tomorrow for the appendix, in true Eliot-style...