Man with Head Removed

Man with Head RemovedI am not He but one who points the way. St. John's day will fall on a FridayAt 3:11, just before quitting time, a boy with a face split in two will be bornThrough a cloven beak he will sing the conflagration of becoming and paintPremonitory images on sheets of blank paper, using various shades of blackInk depicting a world without a single static form and white space depictingA world without a single soul, space occupied by the spontaneous and activeTapestry of bundled perceptions lasting for one instant & just as soon passingAway by the same desiring wind that swept those threads up to begin with &So on & so on, tides of cathexis move boulders and shell middens, the beachAppearing completely different from one summer to the next yet maintainingIts name by virtue of the ocean, the Sun, secret trysts with the avenging angelBorn for the coming weekend, the forerunner will be marked with new organsAntennae that reach into the coming leisure and displace his Active PrincipleImmersed in living water he sings waiting for the first animal to walk on landCarrying a soaked piece of paper to disintegration in its jaw, the premonitoryImage will be consumed, and image alone! At a feast, he will make his firstDecision: to expose his antennae in polite company, leading to the ultimateEnd of this man: beheading. Burial is unnecessary, light a bonfire by the sea