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VERONICA RHEN

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On the Sublime

I couldn’t decide if I was a dying thing or a world newborn 
Biblical light in the manacles of veiled Night
Like a flooding God wound
yes I was frightened 
I spent eternities navigating Silences
The Rhapsody—The Ruin—the Rapture 
You had the sulter stillness of firesides
Those starving saints imitating 
the diligence of the light 
THE WONDER! THE WOUNDS!
Newborn in world’s womb
I should have known
a chorus of questions that God refuses 
what flame flared in the slaking fire 
Soul of oblivion
Just like the world I was inverted
Moderation I hadn't heard of it 
I was as turbulent as the sun 
at the breakdown of Being 
with that bastard Michelangelo chiseling my wings 
like a fallen God lapping at the summer springs 
and I created! the earth! 
Some nights the iridescence of fire bit back 
apertures of ravishing Gods arresting me 
I vanished into precarious wilderness
like a stoppered vessel 
Grail of shattered graces
It was grand wasn't it to abandon understanding 
Inherited Trauma like an heirloom 
You had the solitude of moons
or smoking mountains
my life gone by the wayside
with the shuddering stars of late summer
I thought it was sacredness that I was chasing like a birthright 
the fury! of the Griefs! 
adrift in the carousel of Eternity 
I had never intended to be such a vaulted thing 
I was a fault of creation 
fire polyphonies in the ribs of the night
it was Desire living like light  
late summer’s cruel and unusual punishment 
Calyspo of the far existences 
I drove every version of myself to extinction
the succor of strange lands living in my veins
running with the rivers into clawed nightfall  
the moonlight was Silver in the Wind
Annihilating summer evenings 
Madonna of the wayward things
I was a grave then  
Immortality was a sinking 
The Furthest Fire Circumnavigating Me
I was the worst it was nearly a guarantee on a summer eve 
dandelions of a God dreaming
the Cyclops moon in the stars black graves  
not an eternity in LA summer 
a suicide of cicadas 
would be better than this 
testament of flesh I protested a prison 
Sirius the scorcher it was silver fire in the scorching summer 
Apostate Aphrodite
the need for splendour 
River by river 
Pandemonium on the borderlands
and I had no home 
apostle of razor lights  
verdigris I visited the holy orchids
Interiority was a guillotine 
Sinews of the darkest demons 
Even greed was a kind of freedom 
Wrath that fever fire-plane
The darkness cloned I made it my home 
Did I hallucinate everything?
I was outside your gate like an apostate angel of creation 
Madonna of the wayward things
I was a grave then 
It was my weirdest trait—slavish devotion to creation
As if it would save me!
divinity—I was absorbed in creating 
the fields were burning in ecstasy
and yes maybe the paradoxes had me on my knees 
it was rapture to be devoted as a god to Eternity
reason abandoned me to silver twilights 
Yes I sought it yes I wandered on
even the devouring deer were sheltered
and I could not hide
in the ribs of the Night 
It was a void I gathered 
wellspring of the peripheries 
I converged to nothing like a stillborn lily
No possession is permanent 
the world was not lasting
I saw its end rising in the hourglass rim
devastation
—and I called it light

Friday 08.15.25
Posted by Nika
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