Make Man an Image

Make Man an Image

 

"Moses Maimonides, Samuel Ben Tibbon, 

                   Juda Ben Solomon Choen

were philosophers influenced by Ibn Rushd…"

 

This voice like bells,

bells like flowers,     petals

like soft keys played

in some concerto not

written for them

but somehow just them.

 

Diskmon: This utility captures all hard disk activity or acts like a software disk, an activity light in your system tray.

 

Some say God inscribed nothing for Moses,

that He sent Moses away because men

had molded a golden calf, so Moses

shattered two blank slates to harrow men.

Back on Sinai, God dubbed Moses a sly

leader who could mold a noble lie

—recalling Joseph’s tact handling nobles

and his relatives, too —steadfast

against Pharaoh, Moses led until Nebo.

 

I thank thee, O Father, Lord

of heaven and earth, 

because thou hast hid

these things from the wise 

and prudent, and hast revealed

them unto babes.

 

Out of the many heresies I could

master —golden calves or bleeding

wafers comes imago dei or my image,

god's image —Tzelem Elohim, being

made in the Image of God, theomorphism,

an invented theme. And God said: ‘Let us

make man in our image,’

an ontological argument.

Ancients did not separate

the physical from the spiritual

but that the form of god

could inspire a form of man.

The exstantiated, non-spatio-temporal

form of man mimicks god.

That god could press his face

into a lump of clay

or breathe himself

into a molded thing

to make rather than create

from scratch,

to render an object from dull matter,

to subjectify man differently

from a prancing antelope.

     Just this, a tiny piece

          that rings

               like sunshine,

like peals

          of green glass tinkling,

     broken by skin

          sent through a metal

     wand

          to air

the dreams where I live in other people's 

               homes,

               with two cockatoo

in the barn.

 

"Harari argues that storytelling 

is the human attribute that allows 

groups, society, and civilization to form."

 

Man comes to fix tv.

Booth with atm and I forget my pin.

People come home, and man tries to hit me.

They have baby.

I had been watching Returned

both French and US.

領袖 has eliminated any

and all distractions.

Supposed to be a good thing.

When you see into past are you

resident of one town?

            Uprooted           Mobile

You die without offspring and you

end in churchyard,

             but if your family moved to America,

nomadic, but throughout world at large,

wandering Jew or Roma or Traveler,

you encompass everywhere,

looking backward like the Angel of History,

you see wreckage where you imagine 

others might see heritage and look 

     forward to leaving a legacy,

to look at youth but not be jealous,

     but to love them,

to want to join them,

because that is the best of life,

to desire again the beauty,

of what can be learned

because nothing is yet certain, 

because now you

know that nothing will be 

           certain, nothing is,

even not nothing,

for youth,     no death,    no end.

 

Class="visuallyhidden" 

Aria-live="polite" 

Aria-hidden="true"

 

                           Pulled into a no-tell

in St Clair before I ran

off the road asleep and drunk.

 

This voice, like bells,

bells like flowers,    petals

like soft keys played

in some concerto not

written for them,

but somehow just them.

 

Out of the many heresies I could master

—golden calves or bleeding wafers

—comes imago dei or my image, god image,

Tzelem Elohim,

being made in the Image of God,

Theomorphism,

an invented theme

—and God said:  ‘Let us make man

in our image’ an ontological argument.

 

Ancients did not separate

the physical from the spiritual,

but that the form of god could inspire

form of man.

The exstantiated, non-spatio-temporal

form of man mimicks god,

that god could press his face into a lump of clay

or breathe himself into a molded thing,

to make rather than create from scratch,

to render an object from dull matter,

to subjectify man differently from a prancing antelope.

Just this, a tiny piece

that rings

like sunshine,

like peals

of green glass tinkling,

broken by skin,

sent through a metal

wand

to air,

to air.

[assemblage]