The Ghent Review Volume1, Number 1, summer 2016 | Page 43

Beginning! Beginning! Ah, but surely this is day’s grandeur also? Antigone’s
cry (We are Roman or Greek in our circumstances and choices).
Audibility of my song to child and gull.
Word: a fount, baptisms. By water transformed. Thus to the sea of language
I go. Where even as I walk my heels make music (And in the echo dwells the
echo of an echo) Refute that! Or embrace it unto your betterment. Sweet
gulls of joy sing to me.
And from the mothering surf…That in a word…After echo on the air.
Audible.
That unto us be these things of the world. And unto the world be these acts
of ours.
The act, the subtle gesture dormant in the unspoken and unmoved. The act:
see it as a theatre of the mind. I have adhered, I have performed. Priestly in
gestures and modes yet secular to my companions.
Already they gather about me-and I see them gathered.
Yes, unto me be these things of the world.
O sires of Sion, o children of the transubstantiation! You also within the
compass of my mind. Forefathers of cunning, I am not less than you would
have me be. In the flesh sir, in the flesh.
As aforetime?
As aforetime so hereafter.
Can it be other? –no, it cannot be other so let the usurpers tremble (I see
them in their bothersome imitations). They would ride the gilded carriage
but the horse has cantered: clip-clop, clip-clop, clip-clop: goodbye old fiend
of the woe-begotten century even as the clock majestic ticks away remaining
time.
That unto us be this and such as yet may befall.