Prologue to Part TwO, Part 1

Prologue to ParT TwO

Part Two

1.

It was later than he had thought.

Every thing was needing attention, 

the never ending stance 

stabbing at the Opposite 

the moments what we saw, 

the real world, of night and ash, 

the Snowman 

wasn’t the whole story

but then the melt 

 and the ventriloquism 

of Spring

“the Virile Youth,” Young 

Poet at Summer Height.

the passage was enough 

everything passing, 

the irony 

in the poetic 

pass, pass-- 

Don’t worry it will pass,

the hope, 

towards the Ideal

beyond the insult, the pressure 

of this real

Chaos which we tried, like here 

to order, 

into Temples, 

the five lines, envoking

O Muse! Crispin called, 

Jack continued 

the mental traveler--

Achilles-- 
No, he would say, 
 Henry! this madness! 
let no one frighten or flutter us. 
there were, the rivers to cross

2.

And it was only his will 

this kept him alive, 

Henry was washed up

He stared upward 

from that Beach

Jack sang that long ago

Ha, Gregory Singing! Still-

Akilles into the Night-- 

the distance 

and the death

that Romantic scene of Instruction!

all passing, all arriving

all at once, 

can be scary, a Big Bang! 

Another day tumbling

around as zodiac.

Decorating his moment, 

best as he could

that world revolving

above and around his bed,

 the dreams,

the memories, and reflections

the existential beginnings.

breaking against the flags,

The Colors of Flags, 

a sun--flower, here

and twirling shells 

through projector beam.

He’d get away with it, 

He was an Artist, 

Jack had made it All Up! 
Would again 

and again

swoosh-- and do it all again!

Making it all happen at once.

His life passing, 
continuing on to that further 
death's bedand passing lexicon, 
of Jean Michele like symbols, 

King’s Crown!

but he was gone,

Too early to matter.

Book of hours 
revolving 



3.
into the next and--
he twirled the flower 
between fingers 
into the blinding 
unnamed SUN

the echo, still 
blare of Tibetan Orange
forest of words
big game hunter amongst
SymbOl CrasH.

Lion --
of Red Reality.
Jack was out there painting 
but he was trying to tell
of the underneath

structure, Coupled with the Ideal, 
a conceptual painting
of Imagination, he willingly believed
in this fiction of knowing
He didn’t like spooky

He substituted a rational thought
diving, deeper, 
the flower in his teeth 
ExplodinG to the sUrfacE. 
Outlined in black, diving again

A rhythm,
A butterfly stroke,
All the evolving parts 
were coming together.
It was becoming an order 

of Crispin gods, 
spirit memory behind and Ideal 
Reality sought, His spirit 
and soul--
Might suffice.


4.
Some end of what this mind 
could comprehend. Jack hoped it 
would be remembered.
Jack was on his way,
he tried to tell his Father 

but when he got there
 it had all changed, 
he’d brought back something for him
Though he couldn’t see.
Crispin bathed in

the waves of diurnal motion
It is the Mythos and Poetic 
parts, not bad words. 
The SublimE 

he felt had failed him

That mystical moment, the
still rustling in the woods. Again
he would heighten, 
The moment, 

or drive it to depth-- 

he would keep on

till this poem’s stiff neck 

would give way, Yes, 

he was interested 

to a degree in this mystic-- 

way, it was poetic 
anyway, How does that bird 

arrive to, that same pattern 
and behaviour
Anyway-- well the complications