Michael McClure: Hail Thee Who Play!

OH MUSE,
SING THAT I BE ME, BE THOU,

BE MEAT,

be me, be I, no ruse   
– A MAMMALED MAN,
and stand
with rainbow robes
that drop away and globes
that float in air about my hand.
A UNIVERSE IN FIGURE EIGHTS
swirls about my head
in flashing neon-lighted dots and blurs and spots
and heavy lines of triumph energy
that lie within my skin.
I raise this knife, this wand, with blade
so thin...
I lie Upon a circled, polished table
AND LEAP UP
to be myself again!!!!!

!OH POTENCY!
To be my self-soiled soul,

SPIRIT AGAIN,

AND NOTHING MORE!


I AM MY ABSTRACT ALCHEMIST OF FLESH
made real!
I AM MY ABSTRACT ALCHEMIST OF FLESH
made real!
I AM MY ABSTRACT ALCHEMIST OF FLESH
made real!
And nothing more!
NO LESS THAN STAR-
a chamber and a vacuole.
Without sense!    A Thing!    I feel!

I am not gold nor steel!
I am not metal, sulfur, nor the flow of Mercury!!!!
I am not the berry crumbling in my cheek
with rasping seeds that speak
of summer sun, or salmon in the creek
that stretch themselves, writhing
on the pebbled beach to catch the gasp of twilight
IN THE CAVERN OF THEIR MIGHT

and feel the sunbeam crash the slime

AND CATCH THE GLINT.

I'M SHEERLY ARM AND LEG
that bounces from the slashing beam
of heat
AND NOTHING MORE!!!!!!
!OH MUSE!
!OH ME!



THIS IS THE CUPID'S FACE with Eros grin;
these are the cheeks that make the mask
so thin.
These eyes are holes within the sight of what's within.
I laugh, I weep, I break the task
that roils and flashes in the flask
like a sinking sailing ship
or statue in the lighted night
ABOUT ME!!!

THIS IS MY MEAT!
A flaming fur of skin!
My chin's an axe,
a snapping whip,
a gentle thing
like moths and wax
that glimmer in the white
about my light!

NECK IS A COLUMN OF MY MEAT.
I gleam at thee
—a shambling, hulking bulk that will not skulk
in cowardice or terror
in the fingers, feathers, leaves, or steel.
I AM MY ABSTRACT ALCHEMIST OF FLESH
MADE REAL!



I AM THE SILHOUETTE THAT MOVES IN BLACK,
a profile making the attack
on space and growing to be the meat
that moves within...
BUT I AM OUT, WITHIN THE VALE WHERE SOULS
are made.
My brain is struck again
by eyes that window on the world
that leads into the stars, and nebulae, and swirls
that sink into the matter's heart.

AND I AM LIGHT!!!!

I AM A CAVE

I

ACT
WITHIN!!!!

I AM THE CENSOR WHERE THE SMOKE OF PERFUME
MAKES MY DREAMS.
I am the melody that screams
for silence on the boom
that guides the prow.
I am the tracery of wind that blows
the sail
and also creatures sleeping on the veldt.
I SEE ALL THINGS ARE MEN!



THE TORTURERS THAT BURN THE BABES
ARE NEITHER BLACK NOR WHITE
but Men!
They will put on their rainbow robes again!
The horrors in the night are real!

I AM A ROSE!!!!

ALL SPACE WILL TWIST ITSELF TO SHAPES OF MEAT

and I am FREE!
IMAGINATION GIVES ME WHAT I AM!!!!
A woman's picture burns itself within my head
—I raise my skirts
of velvet, silk, or lace, or lead.
There are no hurts
EXCEPT THE PAINS MADE REAL!
They act in trillionic clouds of stars
to create themselves among the bodies
of their slain.
They are naked injured dragons in their planes
and concrete rooms with movies on the walls
forgetting they are mammal men!



THE PITS BENEATH MY EYES
ARE HOLLOWS IN
THE NIGHT WHERE SERAPHS DWELL.
The things I brutalize are less
than Hell.
I torture flesh and I caress the zones
where youth still swells.
BUT SEE THESE MAMMAL MEN
and listen to their knell
that counterpoints upon a billion screens
(and echoes each vibration
each sensation
in ecstasies of twisted hands). Scenes
line behind each other past
infinity. OH,
BLESS
their aches and pains and kill them well!!!!!!!
Let them return and never spurn
the elves and worms they walk upon.

STOP THE ONES WHO KILL WITHOUT THEIR
PRIDE'S COMMAND!

I see ALL THINGS are men!



THE LION AND THE LIONESS THAT
SLEEP UPON THE VELDT
am I.
The brocade curtains on my sight
draw back and watch the fly
that moves upon the ochre grass.
—I hear him speak.
No manly being is too weak
to be a mass
the size of nebulae.
The cliffs are profiles quick
to move.
Leviathonic shapes
which laughter quakes
are tiny grapes
beneath my microscope.
THE SKY IS FLOOR I SLEEP UPON.
God and Goddess knock upon my door.
THE GOD IS HERE
in drunken revel
hanging in the air!

!OH NO!

The bat and vision circle round
the fingertip
I touch to lip
—or anywhere—in my lair.



OH DO NOT KILL!
BLESS
those who love you still
OR QUICK.
The MASS of things are sick
when seen with rotten eyes;
THE STIES
of Paradiso are filled with Cherubim.



The moon shines on blackness
far beneath
and speeds with me.
I am a MAN!
I am a tree!
The Moon above holds
out its hands
in radiant beams.
I live and fight in streams
of blasting Joy and Hate.
Bless the God who worships me!



THE JUNCTURE IS THE PAST MADE REAL !
THE HEART'S A NET
to search within with chromium stylet.
!!!!! OH NO!!!!!
OH NO!!!    OH NO!!!
The Blackness is a bet
that's made between the gods and demonkind.
The absence of all things is merely spirit
set within a hole in nowhere
beckoning me. There is no fear
of where to be.
Silhouettes of angels move within my meaty palm.
THERE IS NO WET
nor dry
except in places where
I touch upon.
THIS IS THE NIGHT TURNED SNOWY DAY
with crystals on the lip and tip
of tongue
and we are dreamers pressed against a window pane.

!!!OH NO—OH YES!!!

HAIL thee who play.

!HAIL THEE WHO PLAY!