The cult of life infects us with such
infectious
euphoria; and it adores
the cult of death
because.....
It is the cult
of death
who's dark canyons, whispering crevasses, sunless caves and pock-marked landscapes
serve well the purpose
of unearthing
all the gleaming treasure--
the gold, the sapphire, the amethyst--
that was once buried
by the setting sun (for kaleiding rimes
and reveries,
the moonless ravings)
here
in the midst of the living,
where the lovers
of life
in bright colors
and timeless smiles..
There is something else;
there is,
for example, the horror
when a hundred cameras
make contact
with the eye. The pack
of infrared wolves is waiting
just there,
beyond
the dancing circle
formed by the light
of the laughing flames.
There have been controversies.
There will be more.
And which is more timeless?
Death
or Life? Is Life not
defined by time
and given weight, sweet gravitas,
by the secrets
rumored in the realm of death
or evidenced
in her disappearing stride
and strangled prose.
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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