Vanquished *
Musings
RETURN OF THE VANQUISHED
Just below ground level, in a lonely district where once flourished a prehistoric civilization, the long root of a Banyan tree (a tropical species of strangler fig) tap-taunts the lithosphere of the hollow earth. Gases circulate, random marauders, resume their tracing by spiraling. Plaguesome, incendiary, centrifugally driven, like the heat of numbers which will purge a swarm of locusts from small tunnels in the long yard. Apomixis after centuries of neglect-come hornets, pink parades, the long swarm of luminous children speaking wolverine, speaking self-replicating cycles of interactive protein, the geotropes, the kinkajou, the conenose, the kissing bug, the knapweed knave. Hypo-gastric at the cracking front--a clastic fraction-- the earth breaks the Venetian fortress, a scabrous Coptic buckle on the skin of the land. Rapid rise of fluids. The dreaded return of the vanquished--from a sinkhole in limestone into which the lopped off parts have been jettisoned. Lopped off and forgotten: The private parts of a virgin queen after the constellation of her head-on-platter was geometered into cathedrals; the Tuatha de Danaan, a magically skillful race--banished to the center of the earth, Tenth Century AD. Nine hundred-year-old rotten teeth chatter the ages old dread of the return of the vanquished. Tectonic police and border patrol batten the hatches. They say the barysphere propagates magnetic waves (from the solar core) and the Wolf Number indicates a sharp rise in sunspots this year.
Suggestions for Los Alamos Scientists
I have seen the future.
Our secret faculties will awaken
successively as the organs form in an embryo.
R.A. Schwaller de Lubicz
Let us fly like birds without clanking metallics
(photo-documentation of levitation or human attempts at flight, cite
saints
known for levitation)
Let us run like locomotives for days without tiring
(photo-documentation of speedwalking, cite Alexandra David Neel and the
Tibetan art of 70 mph walking)
Let us walk along the water bottom like a dipper bird
Let us grow gills and swim through oceans without oxygen tanks
(photo of David Houser and the Lancandon in Palenque who taught David
Houser
how to breathe underwater)
Let us develop hearing cells in our feet like the ichneumon fly who
listens
into
tree trunks, as he is perched
Let us acquire the hearing range of the sparrow
The distance sensing foveae of the Kingfisher
And the olfactory cells of the Alsatian
(Hi-frequency squeaks retain echoes
Bees see ultra-violet light)
Let us talk for a while with Grandpa the Owl or Mother Elk
(That beautiful Mexican boy that I met in Panahachel, he
even slept in my bed, what was his name? He had an important
dialogue with an Owl.)
Let us call animals from the wild for advice from time to time.
Juana from Valencia used a flower face as a videophone to talk with her
friend in the city.
(photo of Juana Amoros testifying with one hand on bible and one hand
held
up to talking with her friend through a flower's face)
Juana from Valencia saw tiny subaqueous villages thriving in secret
streambeds
Let us walk through hollowed tree trunks into distant regions, distant
times
Let us spread deep warmth as we walk barefoot in the snow
Let us fly from tower to tower, post to post, village to village, in
the
warmth of our greatest affection
(Fake photo-documentation of fakirs suspended mid-air.)
Let us ride festooned on trainroofs singing places and people to life
(Photo of tall, orange-robed Rajastanis riding on the train roofs)
Let us remove all trauma embedded in the platters of amnesiac flesh by
singing
Let us heal everyone's bones as we hum to our own bones
(Photo-documentation of miraculous healings)
Let us heal everyone's lymph by extending our own lymph to the heavens
Let us collaborate with animal and insect architects to design the
finest
municipality of animal architecture
(Photo of human biomorphic designers building magical machines and
structures)
Let us live in bioluminous cliffdwellings that can be materialized or
dematerialized by collective will. Gleaming vertical cities, with soft
mossy sidewalks warm and clean enough to stroll through barefooted, in
diaphanous skins.
Spin spontaneous camouflage
Drink luciferin and light up in the dark like a firefly
(photo of Serbo-Croation inventor, Nikola Tesla, demonstrating the
flotation
of luminous orbs)
(the rhythm in your skin
in your tissue
in your bones
the black starred magnet in your nose.)
Let us improvise jazz with birds, sea lions, bull frogs and cicadas
Let us go out Saturday night to the interspecies dance party or to the
interspecies telepathic practice den
Let us go Monday to the thoughtform projection lane
Let us sing in the ancestral holographic karaoke bars, sing along the
most
ancient songs with the ancestors in their tribal paint and feathers and
bones
Let us begin to perceive things and people backlit by their own
glorious
and strange histories
Let us see places clearly lit by their own mysterious histories, learn
to
read the
stories of places as we fly above them or walk their songlines.
Fly through silken latticework to find the magically skillful
Ice dwellers
Jungle dwellers
Ocean dwellers
Let us pick up little Sedonia, little Murray, little Israel Emmanual
and
Helene at
the Fellini circus-like catchbasin tucked in the forest every square
village
mile.
Let us take grandma and grandpa down to the zero gravity singing den
Let us float freely in sonic cocoons to heal our ills
Let's learn the songs of the whales and dolphins that unbind poisons
into
nutrients and energy
Let's put on our skyrise buskins for all-terrain highwalking, balanced
by
laser poles
that sing habitat to life, that unbind poisons into nutrients and
energy
Use tincture of Aretha Franklin's voice or Sam Cooke’s voice to remorph
our larynx, headshape and capacity, sing like whomever, however we want
to
Put on our lenticular bifocals to see the living giants hidden in the
clouds
Diminish gravity at will, dance vertically and move with subaquatic
ease
through the day
Take that slow-motion human-saddled boomerang ride back to wherever we
came
from
Disappear into a flock of geese
Lizbeth Rymland ©2000
