A.E.M. Baumann

© 2018



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About The Knossian Oracles

Fragment 3 page 1
Fragment 5 page 1
Fragment 7 page 1
Fragment 14 page 1
Fragment 19 page 1
Fragment 27 page 1
Fragment 42 page 1
Fragment 47 page 6
Fragment 55 page 2
Fragment 79 page 3
Mystery page 2
Arcanum page 4
The Occult page 8


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And involute mold:

The means to shape lips, mouth;

To teach, liberatum, unvoiced syllables;

To habituate breath and precise tongue

To every articulation of the intricate chant:

RECABUSTIRA (the tapping of your finger is

CABUSTIRA (the secrets you mumble in your sleep is

BUSTIRA (the lines of your neck is

TIRA (the smell under your breasts is

RA (your laughter, uncontrolled, is

A (your naked heat is

With it, gold dust fallen from pages;

And leaden cobwebs gathered

From off shelved models and intent devices,

Off anticipatory compositions and concoctions;

And silver threads of moonlight settling upon the city adream;

And the mercurial spirit of summer’s sun,

Of naked limbs, admissive laughter;

The just submerged stones of an unconsciously

Oft-repeated phrase; incidents

Of contact, leading;

A quiescent thigh;

The open hollow of a pant leg –

Within, the soft iridescence of white cotton,

Thick, currogant; the arc of a hem

Cleanly charting the diffuse contour

Of a shifting furrow.

Once the air was always laced

With rosmarine. I would wake

And find petals about the bed.

All to be woven into a skein of scarlet string.

She hurries herself back down the long spiral of steps, answer in hand, wary of eyes, of ears, of those who do, who would know her face. In the castle there is laughter: content, potent, mocking. In the city there