3 Hands

The Seventh Hand Fights the Other

“Rage”
Is resolution
Is the three in one
It is what it is
Until it is no longer
one

That old tale
of brother biting
the other brother’s eyes
one two three
nipped out through
commerce now
through
excommunicating
thoughts

is dead now
unless we introduce
the daughter

the mother
the maid
that haunts

The spirit moves over the face of the water
And fire alone cannot baptize
The new saints anymore

For the new saints
Will be baptized
By air

*

The Sorcerer King
Is everything
All the peoples’ whims
All the peoples’ sins

Standing outside
the Sweat Lodge
with acrid smoke for breath
and a tongue like acid fire
rolling it rolls
speaking it is a legion
of murmurs
meaningless
profound

“Did you see the news today
Did you see the news?
Did you hear about the crash
Did you hear the crash?
Did you taste that new dark drink
Did you taste the drink?
Did you touch the plastic dolls
Did you touch the dolls?
Did you smell the Rockwell barn
Did you smell the burn?”

And on and on and one
A meaningless wild burning dissonance
A saturation, a glut, a font, and fountainhead
A rot a setting sun

And on and on and one

*

So then
It is
True

A man
Must make
War

Constant
Even now
Against
The mongerers
Congeners
All

Doughboy
Whiteness
Rough dough
Plastic
Blightness

Caroms
Into
Forever

Blasts
Apart
The
Night

Lo’, three hands
Make war

I my one
He his
And hers
From the
Ground

A bony
Finger

Pointed
Napoleonic
Conquers
America
Conquers
All

A man
Must make
War

Constant
Ever now
Against
The mongerers
Conjurer
Tall
He stands outside the door

And whispers
And screams
In one voice
In a thousand
Thousand fold

He lies

For he is the king of lies

His currency
Is the lie

His eyes
Despise
The light

He sees
With second sight

And he’s got me
Distracted

The war
Is a war
Of conscience

It is a war
For peace

For peace
Is not war

Neither war
Peace

No

A man
Must make
War

Constant
Even now
Against
The Sorcerer

Even with
One good
Hand

The other
Torn
From the root

The hand
A father
Drummed
Down
By pressures

Inevitable

Left hand
Right hand

Which then
Is the third?

I am
A hand
Myself

I
Rebellious
stand
And cover
Myself
With skin

Become
That Other Thing

That drummed down
Whispering

That inside Animal
That internal King

To step forth
To make a war
Of conscience

To make a war
With patience

To make a war
With silence

To loom
At the gate
Of my inner life

And standing there I will
Compete
Focus

I will drum out
The murmuring horde
And move to the singular
Revelation

That this saltsweat tear
Running down my brow

Is a locus
Of the all

Is a locus
Of the all

Is a locus
Of the all

Read the Lyric from the Beginning