[Fragment 57]

A.E.M. Baumann

© 2018

hatterscabinet@gmail.com

 

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About The Knossian Oracles


 

Note to the Reader

Epigraphs

 

The Knossian Oracles

      Περὶ Ποιητικῆς . . .

            1   2   3

      Daedalus in Tartarus

            4   5   6

      L'Origine, Salomé I

            7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15

            16   17

      L'Origine, Salomé II

            18   19   20   21   22   23   24

      The Night Sea Crossing

            25   26   27   28   29   30

      The Garden of Venus

            31

      The Incantations of Isis and
      Osiris

            32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39

      Imago Dei

            40   41   42   43   44   45   46

      The Seven Dreams of Paris

            47   48   49   50   51   52

      The Axiom of Maria
      Prophetissa

            53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60

            61   62   63   64   65   66   67   68

            69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76

            77   78   79   80   81   82   83

 

And the Light Falls, Remir

      Mystery

      Arcanum

      Alchemy

      The Occult

      Love

      Art

      Grace

 

Notes

      Translations

      Table of Fragments

      An Incomplete Bibliography

 

 


 

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There was nothing and there was them: Which them. They find themselves in the aggregate undone, having died, not being dead.

She lost her top in the ocean. The ocean is hungry. The ocean laughs. She lost her bottom in the ocean. What else is there.

The clock says. The clock on the wall does not say. They did not buy a clock. Two in the bed and the little one said: If one feels the other only then how to two.

Breathing one breath between. Doubled up on an odds-on roll. Throw the die. Throw and two die. Don’t throw. Don’t begin. Where to begin.

Dark sheets make for dark shadows. Heavy sheets keep the heat. They sleep. Their eyes are closed. They sleep unclothed. They run in a field open and endless. The ocean laughs.

She gets lost in closets. Keep your hands in your pockets and your pennies will not. But sharing is caring and the dark is a deep pocket anyway. I will hide something and you can guess its name.

A hand reaches to find calm. A hand seeking calm stirs. I prefer my scotch served neat. His breath is warm. She breathes. She is neatly warm. There is one breath and it is twice breathed.

She asked, left. She asked, right. Meet me in the middle, I’ll be there. You are right. Who is left. Whose left. Which. This time the other, another time the one.

She wears t-shirts she cuts to the ribs. She wears blue jeans. She wears thin