Citizens of the Infinite

A Metamodern Ode (to Us)

Receding,

The horizons of knowledge.

Convulsing,

The tendons of certainty.

Exceeding,

The aspirations of the virtuous.

Citizens of the Infinite

Are we!

Lovers of the liquid state

Who move in endless circles

Transfixed by unlocatable centres

(Where gravity wells from waters lost

And limits are loved

as mind-made borders,

Good

For the structures

Of longing).

Friends

Of the great fluorescent bug

Nestled between the slabs:

The Metamoderna

Poised betwixt the Modern

And that which came after

(The post, the following,

the newly-wed devil’s bride).

Only now

They come together

(Over me)

And under everything

That can be named

(There where

The stars do whisper

Their arcane serenades).

Holding up the cosmos

To the hungry:

Eternal approach

and endless arrival!

Expansive disappearance

In the art of letting

GO!

Fully-blown

Incarnations:

Recursively self-reflexive!

Freedom of all possible views!

Shining silver platter

Of divinised

delights!

Dimensions in dimensions –

Nested natures

Of

Natural nirvana!

Nascent nirmanakayas

Bred,

And brooding,

And brewed by boundless love!

Raising children

Is no small feat

We say!

Raising small feet

Against an entire planet’s pull

Is no trivial matter!

And yet

Mountains

Curl up like dreaming dogs

Before our podgy toes

Resplendent in fur and folly

We

Gaze upon the urban priestess

All lustre and lies

And eyes ablaze with vision.

O harp-strings of heaven’s gate

Flayed upon the banker’s desk!

The Celestial Ignoramus

Wants more

Than he can be

And now the clowns have stormed the stage

Nothing’s funny!

Now they weep in bright-red rags

At the ongoing tragedy of their

ingeniously fabricated Act,

Metamorphosis occurs

And

Nothing

Indeed

Becomes

Hilarious.

Nothing,

in word and deed,

Becomes hilarious!

In death, no thing becomes!

(Hi,

Dr. Larious,

it’s an honour to finally to meet you

In the Flesh)

And I am become

The Joker

Dead before I was born!

Tearing up

At the tearing down,

Unborn before I was!

And I am unbecome,

The Tricksteress,

Bled before I was loved or known

(Torn from the forest womb,

breast-beaten, crest-fallen, far-flung,

and voracious).

Unknown

I shall remain

Abiding in emptiness

As that same sweet voidness

Abides in me,

And dwells and dreams

in my marrow-matter,

of bodies yet-unsung.

Pure and perfect,

Immaculate

All-good goodness,

The total transcendent consciousness

Of all that ever could be.

Self-arising wisdom -

How incredible!

All beings are my children

And so, verily,

with joy

I say

I have given birth

Unto myself!

Pristine, this noble silence.

Resounding, this roaring thunder.

Lullabies lilt

From willow’s harp

And the

garden’s great assembly

Is at ease.