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Invocation of Almost

Current 93

Almost in the beginning was the murderer
And I fell faceless into the world
Unaware the moon had changed its face
Hallucinatory Mountain arose Atlantine
Constellations warped
Shed wings
Anointing tyranny of stars

I arose as Aleph, the Speller, the Killer
In my mind fractal texts
Broken grammars
Droning like honey
Sweeter than
Ziggurat, amente
The voice or squeal or fear of Thunder
The thrushfaced Seven
Stars masking the reeds

In the middle of Aleph
As a coiled comet, the meteor
Murderer
My head was red as moons
Bubbling with threats
Doubled like the Trinity I shed
Under the river with the dog and the child
I speak speech and build the Wall again
And close off the storehouse

I dreamt nail veils on the Ka'aba
Dragging the Khabs
Build towers of voices screaming
Astaroth dr eamed vials of sap
I had one gold volume and whispered
Can I go back to your Satanic flat?
Killed spiders cold and ford black becks
Cheeks as red as pomegranates
Astaroth blushing curtseying
Smiling kiss the bride
Or time is the Crime
Or I am true to you as the bluebirdbloodface
Full of grace and lice and moss and confusion

Tiny voices like thumbs
Arise from Aleph as I was/am/shall be
On the Hallucinatory Mountain
Full of troubles and colours
And the sound of the sand
The perpetual Virgin of Evidence
Sly ghosts hover like gold
And pricks hunger for cats imagined
Burning as sadly as the sun

So where do I start unreal?
I was stripped by time
Part of time
In its flow, its fields
Its mirrors, masks
Strut around me
But bending me too
Did it take me with it?
Was I floating above it?
Through it?
I was an oracle for nothing at all
Not even the birds breaking faces to my past

Back in the form of the Mountain
I envisaged the women
Open to me as 93 Thelemic 93 flowers
The folds splay crazily and shining
Their fast unfurling sunbeams
Forcing bright smudges in my past

But in my mind July or gorgon
The flowers shut
Spring snap sharp and lock
The door and gate and vial and fountain
The fields of rape were barley or wheat
Barely beds for the Killer waiting
Giddy with spores
I planted my past
In all who approached
And prayed for Babron
Lined phrases/boxes
Hymned the breeze

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