THE COMPLETE APOCALYPSE AS REVEALED TO ME VOLUME 1 Michael Bolerjack

The Complete Apocalypse As Revealed To Me, Volume 1 2012 Michael Bolerjack

For Mary Greet Mary, who bestowed much labour on us. Romans 16:6

Michael Bolerjack If he crowned you

If he crowned you, If he made you an Everlasting imperishable sign, I would still read to you And need you as I do, Speaking poverty To holiness, Artless, Poetic.

Michael Bolerjack Praise

Praising God And finding you.

Michael Bolerjack Timeline of the Antichrist

1870

1906

1942

1978

2014

Vatican Council I Declaration of Infallibility

Pius X Condemnation of Mariavites

Pius XII Creation of Vatican Bank

John Paul II becomes first Polish Pope

End of reign of Benedict

There are 144 years on the timeline. 1870 to 1942 is 72 years and 1942 to 2014 is 72 years. 1870 1906 1942 1978 2014 are separated by 36 years. There will be 36 years in the combined reign of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, the beast and false prophet of Revelation. The Number 36 relates to the number 666, because in the series 1+2+3and so on+36 the result is 666. 666 applies to John Paul II and Benedict XVI because 6+6+6=18 which equals 2+16. Also, 6x6x6=216. 2+16 = 18. The Mariavite order in Poland left the Roman Catholic Church, but found some vindication in John Paul II and his ratification of the message of Divine Mercy by St. Faustina, a doctrine similar to that of the Mariavites who were from St. Faustinas hometown of Plock. Is the message of mercy from Poland the real doctrine of Christ, when the Scripture says God has mercy on Whom He will?

Michael Bolerjack When I Look Into Your Eyes

When I look into your eyes I see glaciers falling, light sparring, momentum gathered, earth at her zenith, no dejection. The fire in you rises, your clothes loose in the wind, a breath of God on your hair, and stars around to abet your half-smiling lips, now serious, now laughing. In your transitions is abiding, a certainty next to durable unknowns, that make the thorns of the heart easier to bleed, the tears not awkward to drop.

Michael Bolerjack Israel Ate Manna

Israel ate manna in the desert. The bread from heaven tasted like what each person desired. The infinite God can do this. The world today is like the story of the manna in the wilderness. God tests each one of us individually, uniquely, according to His own design. The infinite God can do this. As Thomas said, it has not yet been demonstrated that God cannot do an infinite number of things simultaneously. The world is what it is for each of us. Each lives in a separate reality. For Israel, the manna was taken away when the people of God entered the Promised Land. In our time, the sacrifice is being suspended, as Daniel prophesied. The manna will be no more. If the ranks of Catholics knew this already, they would be dismayed. But if they knew further, their grief would turn to joy, for unless the manna is taken away, the people of God cannot enter the Promised Land. Daniel said, 12:7, that God will scatter the power of the holy people. This is what is happening to the Roman Catholic Church today. At the heart of the Church, its source and summit, as Vatican II said, is the Eucharist and the sacrifice of the mass, the transubstantiation on the altar of the bread and wine. The way to scatter the power of the holy people is to make void the sacrifice, to de-substantiate the bread and wine. Rather than the bread and wine becoming Christ, the Lord and His Spirit will be driven out of the institutional Church, though God is free, and the Spirit blows where He will. It may be impossible; it may be impossible for the infallible Church to be in error, yet as one priest I know often says, God does the impossible. It is not impossible, then, that God created the Catholic Church only to see it destroyed, to see it abandon Him, as Israel always does its Lord. Salvation is the history of just this trespass, betrayal, adultery. God has promised a remnant, though. Who these people are and where they are is known only to God and that is good enough for me. Just as the Jewish people, as True Israel, forfeited, according to the Romans, so too that later True Israel of Catholicism is forfeiting, and just as the latter benefitted from the former, so I hope the world will gain life from the destruction of the Church. God has mercy on those He chooses. Many are called, but few are chosen. Many will say Lord, Lord. Yet the mercy of God is His alone to dispense, and cannot be bought, sold, appropriated, controlled, manipulated by anyone. So-called indulgences are well-named, but God does not think as people do, as is said in Isaiah. He does not indulge us, nor can He be indulged. Jesus said what you bind on earth is bound in Heaven, so grace is bought and sold, Gods hands seemingly tied. But his mercy and justice are one.

Michael Bolerjack Christchurch Destroyed

Christchurch was destroyed last year. The city of Christchurch, New Zealand, was hit by a series of devastating earthquakes that destroyed the center of the city, killing hundreds, and causing thousands to flee and move away. This is the literal fact. It is also symbolic. For, in the theory by which I have written, the Church of Christ on its Roman basis was indeed destroyed last year. The Catholic Church fell into what may be appropriately called mass apostasy, and after the setting up of the abomination of desolation in the holy place on May 1 with the promotion of John Paul II to be one who is worshipped, the Church itself, in the changes of the Order of Mass, has either suspended or prepared to suspend the sacrifice, at the time of the celebration of the so-called masses of reconciliation, an innovation in the basic liturgy that is unprecedented. After the history of simony, betrayal of the gospel, and hypocrisy, culminating in recent years with the ritual abuse of children, the pope, bishops and priests are bringing about the utter deconsecration of Christs Church. There was a man who last year predicted the end of the world. This old California radio preacher predicted the end would come in May, 2011, through a series of catastrophic earthquakes that would ring the earth, time zone by time zone, beginning in the Western Pacific. But the day came in May and the end did not occur. The media laughed at the preacher, and his followers were embarrassed into silence. It was just another false prophecy. But I think it was not completely false, just inaccurate. For it was the end of the Catholic Church, not the world, that happened last May, or at least the Church began the steps leading to its destruction. Spiritual earthquakes are taking place, not physical ones. As the Revelation says, the city was destroyed in the space of an hour, the length of the Sunday mass, perhaps the beatification mass of John Paul II, when Benedict admitted the rules were suspended, ignored, and evidence with it, so his predecessor could be promoted for worship. The mass apostasy which was predicted by Our Lady of Fatima has taken place, not with many leaving the Church, but with an apostate mass that has or will make void the sacrament and what spiritual authority, even power, once held in Rome. The false prophet of Revelation promoted the beast for worship. The image of the beast that speaks and is worshipped is actually the statute, not statue, of the beast that is spoken for worship. It is the mass of the damned. Almost no one knows this outside a few in Rome. Some like myself have perhaps discovered the perfidy and chosen to risk separating themselves from the Church of Benedict, if only because God has promised a remnant that will not have knelt to Baal. We have not deliberately set ourselves in conscience against the Magisterium, as the Catechism says, rather found the Magisterium set itself deliberately against us, repealing in doing so the teachings of Vatican II on conscience. Christ is the judge, and the conscience is the judgment of Christ in me. I could not in good conscience be silent while Christs Church is destroyed.

Michael Bolerjack The Other Witness

With the deconstruction of the world underway, and with it now the deconsecration of the oldest Christian denomination, the Roman Catholic Church, is there any alternative to the debacle? I think there is, and it can be found in language, in the very set of decon words that contains the other two. That word is decontamination. The era in which we are living is witnessing a machine-like generation of corruption, the complete contamination of everything. In part, this is being accomplished by the totality of the text, which has been taking place since about 1965. This totalization without a totalizer, as one might say, is the closure of the world in textuality. Deconstruction is occurring by means of it and cannot be separated from it. The deconsecration of the Church is taking place through changes in its liturgies, its texts. Likewise, these things were prophesied in texts, as well, two thousand years ago or more. If there is to be a decontamination in seems it would also have to take place in the text. The nature of textuality as closure signals a containment. Only within containment can the decontamination take place. What seemed the liability of the closure becomes its asset. As deconstruction says, it protects against what it causes. In metaphysical terms God is the container and the world the contained, being the infinite outside the totality. God is the limit. In terms of the post-metaphysical time we live in, textuality is the container, and the world itself has been transformed into it, everything in it being signifiers. In Derridas Glas we have an emblem of a container within his oeuvre which contains all the flith. Outside it is his scholarship, inside it is theft, blasphemy, inordinate sexuality and the theory of how the deconstruction takes place. By placing the entire contaminated into one binding Derrida shows that it may be contained. However, all the rest of the work meets up with it in various ways, until 1989 and thereafter, the time of Derridas conversion. As Derrida says in his Circumfessions, it may not be written here, but something takes place outside of this particular text, something like conversion. Almost immediately, Derrida makes his turn to religion in his writings. Justice, hospitality, democracy issue forth. This leads eventually before his death to considerations of the beast and sovereignty in his last seminars. An event takes place in Derridas life in July 1989, as he faces his possible death and the approaching death of his mother. The event, which by definition cannot take place in the text as such, leads to the decontamination of his work. Whereas, with Glas, though the filth was contained as a model of containment, yet influenced the rest of the work, in the Circumfessions, from outside the textual containment, that is from that place we call God, something happens that leads to the decontamination of the corpus as a whole. I believe that in the complicity of the deconstruction and deconsecration there can still be the intervening decontamination, affecting the outcome through texts, by the introduction of truth into the labile situation and bringing about a crystallization of the contents in the textual container. One such truth is that Derrida in his ever-oblique manner was bearing down on the antichrist in Rome throughout his religious writings, exposing the coming deconsecration, while at the same time transforming the deconstructive machine which he helped create. In this double movement, the French philosopher stayed true to his premises while achieving a far different conclusion than he appeared to set out for in the 1960s.

Up As in Joyces Ulysses The Absolute Purity

New Jerusalem The Bride City Peace 1000 Year Kingdom Thesis History of the World: Good Antithesis The moral-immoral struggle from Genesis to Revelation Evil War Ltd.

32 ft ps ps (Joyces Wake)

The both- and- neither- nor-

Synthesis End of history War Without End

Both / Good Neither / Good

And / Evil Nor / Evil

1000 years of the abyss, Satan trapped by keys into textual abyss of the complete contamination

Circles

Michael Bolerjack The Four Last Things

1 Christology 2 Happiness 3 Freedom 4 Convergence

1 Christology

Jesus of Nazareth was not God yet. Jesus became God after the ascension. The hypostatic union is not incorrect. But it is not an historical event, rather an eternal one. By moving it from the incarnation until after the ascension, many points are saved. God did not die. God does not make mistakes. God does not create Himself. Jesus, post-resurrection, said to Mary Magdalene; do not touch me for I have not yet ascended to my Father. Why does He say this? He was still a man and could be tempted. God cannot be tempted. Jesus said to Thomas touch me. Thats ok, thats not a temptation, but Mary Magdalene was. If something in scripture is in error, then something else can be, too. Jesus made a mistake in Matthew when He said this generation will not pass away until all these things are fulfilled. God cannot make a mistake, therefore Jesus was not God yet. Jesus said only the Father knows. If Jesus was God, Hed know. Johns and Pauls Christologies are in error. If Jesus could make a mistake, a fortiori they could. Johns chronology is suspect, disregarding fundamentally all of the timeline of the synoptics. Paul says do not judge, but then violates the spirit of the Gospel, by his condemnations. God cannot forsake Himself. Eloi, eloi, lama sabachtani. This was said by a man forsaken. God speaks analogically or figuratively in scripture, of Jesus, or eternally, with the end in view. Vain repetition is inimical to God, but Catholic theology is vain repetition, therefore Catholic theology is inimical to God. God hates closure. The Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic canons are all closed. Philosophical inquiry is open. God loves truth in its openness. Therefore, God loves philosophy. The canons were closed in order to fetter peoples minds, shackle the truth and put God in a box. This closure cannot be effracted from within, only from without. We are placed outside, in order to effract it. The second coming will be different than the first. First, Jesus was a man. In the second He will be in hypostatic union with the Son of God. Jesus of Nazareth was not identical with the Second Person of the

Trinity, but was joined to Him, as all who are saved will be. Jesus is the first fruits. God does not pray to God. If Jesus had been God, he would have had no need to pray. God is free, but Jesus depended on the faith of others to work miracles, the faith of the recipient of the miracle, first of all. At the creation, God had no need of faith. At Nazareth, Jesus could work no great miracle. Therefore, Jesus was not God yet. Jesus grew in wisdom, but God cannot. Jesus was perfected, but God is already perfect. The scriptures contradict one another on such points as the identities of those crucified with Jesus. Are they thieves or revolutionaries? Both bad, or one good? God allowed error in scripture. He did not dictate it. For God cannot make a mistake. The true Torah is not written in a book of paper, but is in Heaven. If Jesus could be wrong, and John and Paul, how much more so fathers, doctors, councils and popes? Let God be true and every man a liar. All have fallen short. The Father is greater than I. The Bible is a literary object.

2 Happiness

I think we should care for Gods happiness. Everyone naturally wants to be happy. God is a person. Therefore, He wants to be happy. In the Hebrew Scriptures at times God was unhappy, being angry, wrathful, and jealous. Many times His Bride ran away and left Him at the altar. But God loves her, and gives her more chances. What is Gods righteousness? Is righteousness in Gods life the same or even analogically similar to the righteousness of men, that is, with justice and morality? My ways are not your ways, nor are my thoughts your thoughts. Jesus said, put first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you. They say God does not need us. That He is self-sufficient. When I put my wife first, it is to make her happy. And so with God. How can I make God happy? If you love me (want me to be happy) keep my commandments. Love one another. Forgive your enemies. Why are we told to love God? I think it is just, and to our benefit, but also, this will make God happy. Partly because He will see that we are learning and trying, by putting His happiness ahead of ours. Jesus died, not so much in obedience, but to make His Father happy. In the war of life, Jesus had a special, monumental battle to fight. He rejoiced, though he died in pain, forsaken by the Father. It is not because He had the beatific vision and consolation of it, but because it made God happy for a man to lay down His life this way, to save His friends, win the war, and make God happy. It may be said that Gods righteousness is His happiness. Righteous is a slang term meaning genuine and good. It makes God happy to be genuine and good. When we are in our right minds, it does for us as well.

To say we are saved not by our righteousness but by Gods, is to say we are not saved by our own happiness, but by Gods. Put God first. Think of what will make Him happy. If He is happy, you will be, too. But if God is angry or unhappy, you will be even more so. God may be very unhappy with us today. He may be very angry. He loves us, but is unhappy we do not return His love. He will not force us to love Him, and He has already persuaded us so many times in so many ways. We must not love Him out of fear, or for our own good. He is deserving. He is not the cause of our problems. He wants us to win the victory over evil. Evil is not loving other persons, including God. So, we must love. He has given us so many ways to find out how to love, lessons in love, so that we may come to the altar first, where He will join us. The altar of marriage with God is the Promised Land. He wants to go there confidently, with trust, believing that although we have disappointed Him before, this time, if we get it right, He will forgive us. The Kingdom of Heaven, the Promised Land, the Wedding all mean the same thing. Do not fear the word righteousness, but substitute the word happiness for it. Morals and justice or mercy are how theologians speak. God would have love and happiness. God is more human than we think.

3 Freedom

The twenty-two pages of this section were boiled down to the gist of the argument concerning the freedom of God and as Salted With Fire have appeared previously in the works End of the Church, An Icon from an Evening in Glas, and The Catholic Apocalypse. I omit them here.

4 Convergence

Some people see the great contradiction of life and conclude that nothing is true, therefore everything is permitted. Others look on it and joyfully say, its all true, its all true. So it was for me on the day of my conversion, and so it is for me today. The philosopher Adorno said that the whole is the untrue, contrary to Hegel. How can this be? Because if the truth is a contradiction, then the whole is both true and false at the same time, and is not simply true or altogether false. In the pages on logic I published with the apocalyptic writings earlier this year, I asserted the truth of contradiction, which is not to say the contradiction of truth. The Lord has said let your left hand not know what your right hand is doing, and

the Lord has prophesied, look on, you scoffers, and be amazed, for I am doing a work you cannot comprehend. The work of the apocalypse is the full declaration of the divine totality and I see it like this:

As I have said elsewhere, the key to the interpretation of revelation is understanding the enigmatic number 666. And as I have said, 6+6+6=18, which is John Paul II and Benedict XVI. It is also via multiplication 6x6x6=216, which is John Paul II and Benedict XVI. But that is not the whole truth, nor the end of the matter. Vatican Council II can also bear the application of the number of the antichrist, for it is 2 and produced 16 documents, the constitutions, declarations and decrees. I think the supporters of the Pope will happily lay hold on this news and say, we knew it all along, it is as Paul VI said of the Council, that a wind of evil had gotten into the Church, and that the trouble in it had to be repaired by those holy men Wojtyla and Ratzinger. But it is not as simple as that. I have said elsewhere that the Church was to be stopped by God. I believe He condemned the Church before it was created. This, chiefly because of the simony, not limited to a few, but extending all the way back to the Acts of the Apostles, when Peter gladly took the money laid at his feet by persons desiring the power of the Spirit, and saw those struck dead who did not give all their money to Peter. It was not the Spirit of God who struck them dead. From this beginning, to the Pope becoming a temporal ruler in 754 was not a big step, and the career of the Church is not surprising, in that Christ said you cannot serve both God and mammon. The Church was destined to be torn down, either in deconstructing, as Vatican Council II set out to do, or through deconsecration, which is the path chosen by John Paul II and Benedict XVI. In other words, antichrist is both the Council and the Popes, the current one and his predecessor, at least, if not the last six. The periodicity of events in the recent church, worked out to a distance of 144 years, from the declaration of Papal Infallibility to the coming end in 2014, which will be 1260 years since 754, the number 1260 from Biblical prophecy, and used by Newton in his calculations, with the 144 years marked by divisions of 36, and as a whole applying to the 144,000 in Revelation, and to the 12x12 of the Two Israels, old and new, the totality of the Church, marked at the pivotal year of 1942 by the creation of the Vatican Bank, the deposit not of faith but money, is a kind of machine running inexorably to the apocalypse, when the evil of the Church will be revealed, when the truth is told, and many will repent and be saved, as Newton said. I must add that as for myself, my own name of Michael Bolerjack is composed of two words having sixteen total letters. I love Christ and do this work for Him, but seem implicated in the apocalyptic in an acute way, and no doubt will be or will have been vilified as antichrist myself. I am not, but being aware of this, of my journey as a Catholic, of how I once loved the Popes, and still think highly of the Council, I look on this great contradiction as being the truth. The fifty years of the Council and its aftermath in the reign of John Paul II and Benedict XVI can be seen as a matter of politics, of progressives and traditionalists. But it was a matter not of politics, but of prophecy. Who hath known the mind of the Lord or who has been His counselor? In the East there is an image of God in the Bhagavad Gita, where Krishna discloses all his terrible sublimity to Arjuna, as both

creator and destroyer. As is said in Isaiah, I make good and create evil. As He says to Job, where were you when I created the world and made leviathan and behemoth? If God could require the death of his Son Jesus, or create Adam only to see him fall, condemn him, but later forgive him, or in all the complexity of His relationship with Israel show his freedom, as when he says I break my promise, to the people of God who refused to enter the Promised Land, ripe for the taking, as described by Joshua and Caleb, and as is said, God loved Jacob but hated Esau, then we might say God is Absolute, not to be comprehended. I think the Church in the definitions of the Trinity and the person of Christ tried to do what cannot be done. I will not speculate on the politics of the early Church that led to these dogmatic assertions, but suggest that the Church in these matters set itself up as defining God, or placing itself above Him in a sense, a role carried out ever more ardently by the Popes in particular, especially after 1870. In this the Church I feel is culpable of lese majesty, offense against the sovereignty of God. It may be that the institution cannot be saved, but that individuals may be. God has mercy on Whom He will. If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts. That there is still a Promised Land and that some will make it in, I believe. The gate is strait and the path narrow and few there be that find it. In the apocalypse, perhaps the gate is unique for each of us, being the call to do the one thing that Christ in particular requires of each of us individually, which may not be the same as anyone elses task. Remember the case of Abraham our father in faith. The personal nature of your own apocalypse is between you and God and must be lived out fully. As Christ said to the rich young man, no one is good but God alone. I believe God is good, and His Heaven is good, where Mary and the angels and saints are. The world in some sense is still good as a vestige of His creation, and the Church too, still has some good in it, and still does some good. Those who say its all good are not completely wrong. It is in God that we live and move and have our being. To have become aware of this in my daily life was the great fruit of my personal apocalypse. It fostered in me an awareness of love I did not have before, of loves responsibility. This responsibility for me is surrender to Christ. For me there is no other way.

Michael Bolerjack Apostle is One Sent

I am sent to speak of the apocalypse. As Paul was an apostle of the founding of faith in the resurrection, which I take to be the true origin of the Church, not necessarily reckoned to Pentecost, for reasons I will come to, though hard to speak of, and perhaps only able to be spoken of in a mode of supposition or conjecture, without being bound by such speculations, that is to say again, as Paul is the apostle of the origin of the faith, in the resurrection, it seems to me that I am the apostle of the end of faith, or of the end of the Church, for the Church, despite its mission, has proved itself faithless. To act with the end in view, many disparate pieces of information will be gathered herein. All perhaps bearing on the question Derrida raised at the start of his writing, in the essay on Levinas: how can there be an absolutely surprising convocation? One of the premises of my thinking through of the apocalypse is that it applies only, or primarily, to the Roman Church. The Church is set in the World and the fall of the former will I believe have a profound impact on the latter. Another of my premises is taken from Derrida concerning closure, that it has taken place. But the meaning of this event, I think, has still not been understood, and I think can only be understood in relation to the apocalypse to which it is essential. Closure has a dual aspect. I think of Heideggers comments to Stambaugh on the appropriation and the janus-face between the world and that which is the enowning of it. In thinking through closure, I am thinking of relations between the container and the contained, of the containment as it is thought in terms of its necessity for a decontamination to be possible. The triangulation of deconstruction-deconsecration-decontamination is the verbal matrix for my thought. The hope I have is that into the textual containment of closure a decontaminant may be introduced which will destroy satan, trapped symbolically in the text, as trapped in the letters of the words Christian and Transubstantiation. One way to look at the containment, and I may just mention this almost in passing, is found in Buddhist psychology, with the mind as mirror being the container and thoughts the contained. It is, I think, the goal of the Buddhist to wipe the dust of thought from the mirror of the mind. In this is a figure for the decontamination I hope will take place generally in what I believe, based on readings in writers such as Averroes, is the one mind. In Derridas textuality, the text would be the container and signs the contained. In Ptolemaic cosmology, the Primum Mobile contains the concentric shells with the earth at the center. For Cusanus, there is the Wall, and for the early Heidegger, the horizon. One might say, reading the next to last paragraph of Derridas essay on Levinas, that in this age of difference, our wall or horizon is one of hypocrisy. Closure, in a sense, is the worst for Catholics, and the best for the World, depending on whether the demise of the Church is life for the World in which it is set or if the voiding of Catholicism will deprive the World of something essential to it, on which it depended the last 2000 years, and without which it cannot survive. If all the worst is contained in the Church, all we go well for the World, but if on the other hand, the Church is a tomb or crypt, as in the deconstructionist theory of the text, from which a spectral truth will disseminate involving the World and contaminating it as well,

then not only will the Church cease to be, hollowed out from within by its deconsecration, but the World too will be erased by the complicity it has with the hypocrisy of the Church. Whether the Church and the World are one system or two separate entities remains to be seen. The Church in her history sought to see itself set apart from the World and completely opposed to it, and if that is true, then the World is fortunate. Of course, this is a paradox. Behind this paradox is the idea that the scandal of the Church is that unknown to it and despite itself, it became sin, in order to take away the sins of the World. In the closure of the text all good and evil is transposed into signs. In this containment the struggle takes place, with the possibility of a decontamination, involving a shift transcending the law of morality toward a mystical love above the antithesis. To recover this thesis is the way to decontamination. However, if this is not accomplished, there will be a fall into a synthetic state below the moral. The works of Joyce, Ulysses and the Wake, describe this schema, indicating both the way up, in the former, and the way down, in the latter. Though I think the complexity of the situation in the Wake is not simply one of the fall into a lawlessness without the hope of mystical love, which like the love expressed in the final words of Ulysses can redeem all, for there is the indication still that there will come an eventual awakening, and that the era of textuality is something that can be traversed, not a labyrinth without hope of exit. Having said these things as a kind of preparation for an apocalyptic gospel, I might begin the actual good news with the proclamation Be Not Angry, rather than Be Not Afraid. To echo Maurice Blanchot, with whom I bear a siglum, I say to Catholics, you are Awaiting Oblivion, but know it not. How could you? For the truth is outside your walls. Clean the inside of the cup. Inside your whitewashed tombs are dead mens bones, buried under altars kissed.

THE TREATISE ON LOGIC

As I told a friend in April, 2010, at Easter the Lord gave me a big thing to say. Altogether, the telling of it took over three months. The results are disconcerting for anyone who thinks in the accustomed tradition of the mainstream of philosophy coming from Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas. The essays I wrote take as their starting-point the Hegelian assertion of the truth of the whole, coupled with the gospel assertions concerning how God thinks, which is very different from that of the world. In the end, a logic was produced that reconciles all oppositions, to the point that in retrospect, having watched an hour of news on television, I commented that, if it doesnt make sense, it must be true. My logic both describes the illogicality of the world today and shows a possible path to the unification of the competing claims of the various religions and philosophies under the banner of the allowance that all are true as a whole, and only make sense as part of the whole. The world, now fragmented into many parts, each part thinking it is the true one, or that all are equally untrue, or that all are true from their own perspectives, each in their own reality, is actually true when grasped in its innate contradiction, and that this contradiction is the truth, and must be, for the truth not to contradict itself. It is not that we agree to disagree, but that our very being depends on faith in a God who encompasses all differences. At any rate, so it seems to me. The thought that began in September, 1989, with the simple, if illogical and contradictory, premise that eternity limits infinity, reached arrival in 2006 with the renovation of dialectical logic through positing the fourth step, at the same time showing a way out of the impasse of de-construction, was completed in 2009 with the discovery of the Ultrastructure in alpha-numeric symbolism, and attained fulfillment in 2010 with these writings on the truth of contradiction. They are the end-point of a project, my writings from 1985 to 2010, which achieve a synthesis I did not set out toward, but which I found to be possible toward the end of the quarter-century of the work, and which I had for several years felt was something that needed to be accomplished.

A three-ply cord is not easily broken. Ecclesiastes 4:12

THE ACCOUNT

In the following I will give both a general and special theory of accountability, that is, in the latter case, a restricted economy of the account of the genesis and order of the ideas of the work, with some relevant history on the author, his life and the present age, and in the former case, an analysis of the account as such, both in the logos and in terms of a total count in the making, opposing teleological closure, our happiness and promise of joy, to the pleasure of seriality, the indefinite, semblance, our anxiety of desire, our insatiable pleasure, our fear of the end. In order to do this I will make use of the complexity of the logos-logic-logistic-logistics construction, showing on the square or in the space of the idea as such the relations of these four terms to each other and to the regimes of religion and finance, as well as to their deconstructions. This will be worked out with the thought of Christ in mind, the problem of the contradictions of life in Christ and of life in the World, of the comprehensiveness of the totality of the logic of God inherent in the notion that God does the impossible, the relation of this belief to faith and reason, to the mercy of God as I think it is to be understood, to the theory of reading the Bible that gives rise to the comprehension of contradiction, as well as the secular application of this logic in literature and philosophy, in ethics, politics, finance, and in the interrelation of the faiths of the world, showing a way to peace through an emphasis on wholeness, understanding, forgiveness and the abandonment of the subjective perspective as such, however multiplied, for the unity of one objective dramatic self-effacing release of power for the love of God and the love of neighbor, alluded to at times in the works I have written by the words arrival, real dialectic, catholicity or the Catholic Economy. A textuality will obtain in the working-through of the general and special theories, in the sense that the account of the restricted textual economy of

the individual works is set in the account of the general text, and my text itself in that indefinite ever-greater text that simulates the infinite. We will see the interplay of the sign-world of textuality, which is constantly deconstructing, with the true frame of things found in number, which needs no translation and cannot be deconstructed. The cities of God, seen in the Ultrastructure or Metasignification as I posit it, and of the World, seen in textuality, are intertwined, as the wheat and the tares, but as the deconstructing world falls away, as Joyce said accelerating at 32 ft per second per second, into the abyss, the altogether pristine will emerge, which the Bible calls measure, weight, number, a fact Andrew Marvel commented on in his preface to Milton, though all now seems lost without measure, weightless, a total count in the making. The account of accountability I intend is meant to, in part, show the futility of that series, by that which is already made, from which God is seen, as Paul said in Romans. The logos and its logic show this as well. Truth is apparent in the words in which it is written, and you do not have a single word without having the whole of language, metaphysics and the truths they contain with it, as Derrida once said in his early controversy on structuralism. Deconstruction targeted the logos and its logic, forcing it before the letter to the logistic of reducing number to logic, thus eliminating the indeconstructible, and by postmodern parody reducing logistic to logistics, a keyword in business today that is parallel to the use of the term aesthetics for the artificial attempt to reverse time in the aging of the faces of women, as well as the remotivated uses of the word metaphysics today, which are not concerned with being or cause or form as such, but with the spiritual world in general, without reference to good or evil and their restricted dialectic, that is the deconstructive economy of generality against a proper dialectic. Logistics, aesthetics and metaphysics are all artificial, set against dialectics as simulation is set against reality, and do not make any new thing but manipulate matter and spirit

in magical kinds of ways, attempting the impossible, promising the impossible, but ending only by destroying actuality, suspending the really Real, a term from Gregory of Nyssa for God, and erasing meaning as such. One of the cornerstones of the present work will be to see the impossible as something that only God can do, that is the definition of God in a way, which involves not the resort to the paradox, which is based on seeming (characteristic of contemporary logistics, aesthetics and metaphysics), but on the impossible, which really is the reality of that which is, its contradictoriness, its wholeness, its truth. What has happened is the setting back of actuality to mere possibility, this step back freeing play, eliminating the truly serious for the semblance of gravitas, and as the fall away takes place, the seeming elimination of gravity, at the same time a real and an inexorable and unbearable gravity which is causing the fall but cannot be felt in the time of the abyss. Material is feeding the pull of this gravity, the increasing materiality of culture, seen in the new importance of logistics, of aesthetics to defeat gravity and time, of metaphysics to defeat any notion of absolute truth. There is still such truth, but at first glance it may be mistaken for the world that is falling away. That world views it in the grand affirmations of Nietzsche, Joyce, Derrida: their YES. But by eliminating the NO they will by deconstructive logic eliminate the YES as well. It is only by conserving the negative, let your yes mean yes and your no mean no, as Christ said, that the absolute truth emerges into view as the wholeness of the contradiction. The very thing that was previously thought to be division is the real unity, seen from a height not from the leveled postmodern standpoint. God tells us this in all Bibles, and even Heraclitus knew of it: the way up and the way down are one and the same. Aristotle could not grasp this truth which is not human but is divine. The hidden harmony of things is expressed by Christ as the Father who causes His rain to fall on both the just and on the unjust. Christ said then, be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect. And it is this command to be perfect which

tests the cross of human reason, and by faith, not the will or effort of man, though we are told that also is required, in order perhaps to be part of the contradiction, not by our wills but only by the mercy and grace of God. Such faith is the creation of reality, for unless you believe you are not real. The artificial world falls away while the real remains. We are judged by our works, but faith saves, and this at once is the whole truth, which is the mercy of God greater than our sins, but also greater than justice as such or reasoning in itself. Parmenides, in the poem that sets forth the One, says that there are WHAT IS and WHAT IS NOT and that which only SEEMS TO BE. And this is the truth. The One is what is, which as One contains actually all number as One, while the nothing or what is not is the same as the void without either meaning or number, not even the Islamic invention of the zero, while what seems to be, which commentators say is the inordinate concern of a work on the One, is the province not of the Ultrastructure but of the text. The sign only seems to be. The oracle does not speak or conceal but gives signs, as Heraclitus said, which is to say, there are only the revelation of the One, the occulted nothing and the realm of interpretation. Plato, in his dialogue on Parmenides, subjects the One to the first logistic, reducing the Ultrastructure of the unity of number in the monad to the logic inherent in that unity, which inspired deconstruction, a move that results in the equation: both this and that, neither this nor that, the fourfold of logic I wrote on in 1988, and which became the basis for deconstructions double blow or affirmation, which is a mere paralysis, not the whole truth but the interdiction of the arrival of truth, as I point out at various places in the work. The logic of the One as one thing and its opposite both at once is the positing of contradiction as the truth, but which is only part of the strategy of deconstruction, which then eliminates the contradiction by a Dionysian YES, by the leveling of hierarchy in Nietzsches logical deduction concerning the history of Being as the history of an error, a history in which being is overcome by sheer

appearance, which cannot be appearance any more if it has no Being to oppose it in a binary opposition, and many say they are the same, this deconstruction of the space of logic based on the contradictions that feed the dialectical work of the word and the grand gesture of the affirmation that is a vicious circle without egress. But they are not, though they seem to be. The way to discern the truth of contradiction from the contradiction of truth involves looking at the fruits of the logics. The contradiction of truth is done on the one hand to free interpretation, signs, the text, generally, to excess, as a kind of pleasure of the text, as Barthes said, the same as sexuality, but displaced upward. The truth of contradiction on the other hand humbles human reason and its significance and tells us there is something that cannot be thought, the impossible, that man cannot do. Derrida said that only the impossible is worth attempting. Actually he attempted to deconstruct the impossible itself, by the elimination of act, the creation of pure possibility, and by way of simulation, through the imposition of a pure possibility, making actuality impossible. Every act became an act. Acting, but no action, the pure act is the elimination of all acts. But the truth of contradiction is not this act, but the actuality of wholeness. This whole is the One. It is reality. The truth of contradiction indeed says both this and that, neither this nor that, or rather every statement and its opposite are true. If God is good and yet as we know there is evil, there is in Gods world, the world we inhabit, both. There has been much theodicy from theologians and poets to justify the ways of God to man and explain the existence of evil, and I do not wish to place the goodness of God in question. One can say that evil is only an illusion, as in the East, or that creation itself is an evil, the Gnostic way. Let us say neither of these. But at the same time let us say both. The world is evil and it is only an illusion. Rather that is what it has become in the hands of the logic of deconstruction, which was always potential in the tradition of metaphysics, but which did not come into play until the last

100 years. The world is now the multiple, the sign, and this is the illusion, and semblance is the evil. What is real? Buddha said suffering was an illusion, but Christ showed us suffering and death are both real, though His love is more real. As Sophocles said, we suffer into truth. This is to suffer the contradiction. The contradiction of truth is to posit the absence of meaning as the only meaning, an effect, that is, as Derrida said in an interview in Positions, writing literally means nothing, but the truth of contradiction is to accept the cross and what put Christ on it, which was the human reaction to the all-embracing nature of Gods mercy. You will love your enemy but they will not love you, you will be peaceful while they make war, you will be contradicted as Christ was contradicted. The truth of contradiction however is not this contradiction of the truth, the world against the truth, but the mercy by which God is free, not bound by human reason or will, in that He may affirm both the just and the unjust, both saints and sinners, loving He said especially the sinner, but rejoicing when he repents of sin. In this metanoia or conversion is the birth of faith and reality against the paranoia of human fear, greed, denial, desire, self-love, and perhaps most of all the pride of the goddess of human Reason. The wisdom of God transcends mere reason and does this in a way more than we know. There is to say it again, because it bears repeating, what is, what is not and what only seems to be, and in this logical matrix we are placed in the moral problem of our good and our evil. Is evil nothing, merely a lack of the good? Or is it an illusion, seeming to be only? Or does it really exist? If it exists, it is then true, in a way, but I think a truth that perpetuates itself only by falsehood, by denial, simulation and terror to quote Badiou, that is, by being the contradiction of truth. Some would go beyond good and evil, neither moral nor immoral, rather amoral, as one would speak of truth and falsehood in an extra-moral sense, as Nietzsche did. I prefer to go on to the conclusion of the logic, to the fourth term of this equation, the other that completes the moral hierarchy,

which is mysticism. The mystic knows good and evil, that they exist, does not negate them amorally, but in another way, through a transcendent love, turns from evil to the good. This turning is the conversion, the being born again, the new man, the repentance, the turning away from the world to God by the renewal of the mind in order to be perfect, that is, to know what is pleasing to God, to think as He does, in a sense, at least as we can do that in this life, in spirit, if not in deed. When this happens, all things become possible, the impossible can be done, by God and in faith. Thus, I, who was not real, become real. The world which was real is known to be unreal. Everything is true, but as the lie which it was. The contradiction is accepted. One does not say YES to everything morally or mystically, and yet at the same time one does, loving as it is said the sinner but not the sin. As God does. To love both neighbor and enemy is to refrain from judging sin. It is to separate existence from essence, truth from error, that we are good from what we say and do, recognizing that everything that lives is holy, to echo Blake, because part of the whole, which is true, the Hegelian view, but that much of what we think is in error, that we are as Kierkegaard said basically wrong before the Truth, or as Luther said, incorrigible, and that God does the impossible literally in saving us who are evil, and so to recognize this generally, but not particularly, and thus we can say all religions are one, as Blake did. We must love God unconditionally, I say, but the reverse is not the case, as some people say, for God requires something from each of us, as is spelled out in every religion, every morality, every wisdom, and though this differs in cases, the fact is this: the forbearance of truth. We are in error, in debt, to the truth, which still loves us in order that we may yet turn to love Him. The truth is forbearance that defers the debt, and even, in jubilation, foregoes what is His due, contradicts His justice with an ever-greater mercy that forgives us anyway. Though mercy and justice are opposites they are but one act, one action that shows that the left hand of God is somehow not aware of the justice

and wrath in the right, and in what is the impossible, the incomprehensible, forgives. Even bears and forbears the impossible, the truth contradicting itself, the heart of contradiction yet not contradicting the heart, for our sakes. Thus, God does the impossible and in a way or we may hope that in His mercy He denies what is His right and His prerogative, lets go, releases, renounces all out of love for a creature undeserving of this Almighty grace which shows us selfdenial and asks the same of us: love one another as I have loved you. Simple, they say, hard and yet not hard, bright yet dark, smiling yet impassive, simple, yet with the absolute complexity that we cannot understand of a love that contradicts everything except love itself. The truth does not deny itself, does not lie, but just as love fulfills the law, justice is good, yet it is completed, fulfilled, by an absolute mercy that suffers contradiction on all sides, out of mercy. This is our hope. It is a hope against hope. As has been said, God is love, and we are saved in hope, and the truth itself is a charity that gives even itself away. It cannot be denied. The contradiction is also this: that in giving we receive, that only by being empty are we full. At the wall of truth, to echo Cusanus, the opposites at last meet, the coincidence, and contradiction contradicts itself, and unity is achieved beyond what human reason can know. This is the truth of mercy and the mercy of truth. The contradiction both is and is not at the same time. I do not know, I cannot know, yet I believe, I must believe. One must believe. Be perfect. Believe. Faith makes it real. I am made by God, but in faith I become real. Faith is a gift, and if I say I give something to God, then I must be contradicting myself, yet I believe He needs us even as we need Him. Therese said: How much Jesus desires to be loved! We know more than we understand, and we are told to incline not to our own understandings. The mercy of God can be seen in relation to the previously given account of the logic of the philosopher Parmenides and the dialogue by Plato about the talk the first great logician in the West had with the young Socrates. If there is a secret, it perhaps is this.

If you take the logic, any logic, perhaps, which deals with truth, or any logic problem where you have the answer but have to supply the steps to prove it, on the one hand, and on the other hand, a problem from mathematics, say, simple addition, for example, then when we speak of the fact of the world, the truth of being, the meaning of things, or the mercy of God, and assert the contradictoriness of them, the truth of contradiction, the answer is that the world, truth, meaning, being, what is our ultimate concern, is more like a math problem than a logic problem. One does not reduce math to logic as in the famous logistic of Russell and Whitehead who spent much ink in proving that two plus two equals four. No. One does the reverse of the logistic, and converts logic into math, the truth into a number, as I show in the Metasignification about the arrival, completion and fulfillment of man and God. This reversal can be seen in that, instead of saying true and false, both and neither, and conclude that they cannot all be true, one says four times three equals twelve. Or simply add up everything, being-in-the-world, and arrive at the conclusion of the new summa, the sum total of the all in all. Which must be One. Absolutely Plato and Parmenides were right. The One is what is, minus what seems to be, setting aside what is not. The entire fourfold of the logical square is true all at the same time. I may seem to be agreeing with seriality and Sartre by indicating a summa or summing up, that the answer is a total count in the making, as a poet said, but I am not. Semblance is that, and it is growing indefinitely. The truth is One. When you add up all faith in the world, the thing that makes us real, and subtract all doubt, all reason, everything that is not faith, that is, the multiplicity, you arrive at One. If the truth is One, what would the Zero be? Zero is pleasure, a kind of sensual nihilism. Pleasure times anything leads to the void, as multiplying anything by zero leaves zero. To arrive at true spiritual joy, you must then not choose pleasure, but rather its opposite, pain. You must not affirm both, which would negate the One and affirm the Nothing. Pain or

suffering, the cross, is something we accept, the fact of it, and also the good of it in the wisdom of God providence, trusting Him. Christ says two things that may contradict each other, yet both I think according to the theory may be true. Come to me all you who are weary and carrying a heavy burden, and find your rest, for my yoke is easy and my burden is light. Deny yourselves, take up your cross and follow me. But the cross is not easy and light, or it would not be the cross. The cross is full of every kind of pain and contradiction, humiliation, suffering, and to suffer is not easy. But at least it is real. Pain and suffering are two criteria of reality, which as one poet said, is not something the human being can stand much of. Love hurts. God died on the cross, a painful death, because of His love for the Father and for us. If He calls us to the cross, to bear it with Him, how can it also be light and easy? Because at least it is real, which is not something the pleasures of life give. Pleasure is the zero, and the more it is multiplied, the more there is of nothing. Numbness is worse than pain, to feel even pain is better than not being able to feel anything at all. The cross is in a sense both hard and easy, because real, because the opposite of pleasure, because in this, despite human reason, and what appears to be our own self-interest, there is a true joy that the world cannot comprehend, peace that the world knows nothing of, a wideness to mercy, as the hymn says, a forgiveness, an understanding, a wisdom, which is the Mind of Christ. Subtracting pleasure from this will not diminish it, for pleasure is the zero, but if you multiply pleasure times any good thing that seems to be good in itself and may be, though truly God alone is Good, then in the modern calculus of utilitarian hedonism, you not only may but you must lose everything. To arrive at the One, you add up all faith, faiths of every kind, believe everything, all things as it is said, and subtract all doubt, all reason, all sin, for whatever is not of faith is sin, and most of all subtract all pleasure in the world, though it is really only nothing, and then you get the One. What is the number of Spiritual Joy? Christ indicates that it is

70. Why 70? Because human understanding forgives seven times, divine wisdom does 70 times seven times. And it is for this reason that Christ sends before Him 70 disciples to all the towns in Israel he will visit in his life because they are to bring the gospel to the people, bring them the good news, the joy of the message of peace and forgiveness and healing from God. The good news which is One contrasts with the void, all that simulates peace, but does not provide it, such as vacations, rather than vocations. We have the One and the zero. What is the postmodern context? The computer is the universal adding machine, which connects everything through almost, but not quite, infinitely long and complex strings of Ones and zeros. This is the total count in the making, ever indefinite, not able to arrive, or be computed. The computer has computed something it cannot compute. In a way, it seems to have made the world into a kind of One, one world. The ideal has become real through technology. Instead of this great truth of the Reality of the Whole, we have instead the Hole of Unreality, the abyss into which the city of the world is falling. This unreal city is currently in a crisis, and this crisis will not pass, a crisis of financial meltdown, political deadlock, unending distortions of the truth by denial, simulation and terror on all sides. To contradict the truth, clearly and simply, would be to arrive at the Whole, by dialectic, but to again use Badious terms, truth is being destroyed not by contradiction, which is dialectical, like all truth, at least in the West, but through deconstructive simulations and the many forms of denial that humans are known for, and the variety of terrorisms at war in the world today, even on computers themselves. The zero, the nothingness, which is really a less than zero, a simulated fraud, in order to deny it is what it is, or is not what it seems to be, requires constant stimulation. The financial world requires great stimulus packages that only delay, defer, deny the problem of an economy based on credit rather than faith, capitalism rather than the catholic economy of the charity of truth, two different forms of belief

and trust, the former an illusion, the second an ideal, and which increases the national debt of almost all countries in a kind of unreal multiplication that is as big as the strings of ones and zeros that have made the internet. The stimulants that keep us going, legal or illegal, moral or immoral, sane or insane, give us an illusion of energy and vitality, like the picture of Dorian Gray, that is, with a huge price we are in denial about. The corruption of the world is the fact and the result of our being in denial, a corruption seen in the murder of the woman of Juarez by drug cartels fed by American addictions, in the large amounts of money that fuel politics and government today, and in the horror of the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church. The number of this corruption is something like the Google. It is the opposite of the One. It has been created artificially, stimulated by advertising, sex, power, all desires, all pleasures, and is a monster, a beast, anti-Christian, if I may refer to the prophecy of the end of the world without seeming to be something I am not. God has promised to heal the world, as he ends it, to shepherd the people, give them good pasture to lie down in and rest, to bind up all our wounds. But he also promises to destroy the sleek and the strong. This is not a popular message, but it is in Ezekiel. People like to watch movies about the end of the world, simulations of it, or deny that the prophecies apply to the future, are far rather about ancient Rome, and we cannot fall back on the old phrase, history will be the judge, because after the end, history will be no more, it will have been an illusion, an error of the human judgment, corrected by the divine judgment, which we all hope will be merciful. That all this huge apocalyptic mistake of a world is the all-time contradiction, where some people have so much, and some so little, is the fact. Accountability is called for. What we have is an illusion, what we need is an ideal that we can still make real if we believe we can love. I believe we can. Criticism and complaint and the long litany of opinion are the order of the day, and there is little room for thanks and praise, for trust and mercy, for

meditation, for stillness instead of stridency, and we all are too unilateral, too partial, too fragmented, unlike the God I have evoked so far, as He is to me, Who is so all-embracing, One, whole, complete, that He includes everything and its opposite, and so much so that we cannot understand Him as He is, or really know ourselves, and thus seem to pursue our careers, our loves, our lives, our faith or our fate, with slackness or sleekness, apathy or determination, due to contingent rather than essential reasons. Absolutely, God is the reason for our being, but He is not limited by reasons. Love is the reason for the world and for us, and it is what can still hold us together, and I believe will, and really does in God, despite our unbelief, our lack of care, our fears. He said: You will have trouble in the world, but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world. We have been given temptations: to sins of the body, mind, spirit. Yet we are temples, lights in the world, cities on a hill. We all are called. We hear this call not with our ears, but with our hearts, not by sight, but by faith, with love, and we do not say that He is being unreasonable, that He asks the impossible, which He perhaps does, but we rejoice in being called, in being chosen, in being created, in being renewed, in being granted a few years to be a part of the world, to learn to love, to choose joy and hope, not despite suffering, but because it is His will, the inscrutable, which I have described as a kind of contradiction, not merely a paradox, a contradiction seen chiefly in Jesus Christ Himself, being both true God and true man, the fact which was a stumbling block for both Jews and Islamists, His death on the cross, what He endured in solidarity with each of us and all of us. To be called by Him is to be called to account, and he makes us accountable, in that we really do count, are not nothing, yet are not somebody, but are One, once we leave the world of seeming-to-be for what really IS, the contradiction of truth for the truth of contradiction. When I am called to account, made accountable, I must turn, either toward Him Who calls, or away from Him. If I think I count as somebody, I turn away. If I

turn toward the call, I begin to count to Him. If I think I count, I will enumerate the reasons. If I only begin to count, I do not count higher than One, though God can unfold out of the One numbers such as the trinity, or four-square arrival, the gnomic five, the completed seven of God and man at one with each other, or in fulfillment arrive at the twelve, three times four, God times man, what is called the All in All. We ascend through a few steps, hard steps of arrival and completion, and in the next life by His mercy we will be fulfilled, not by an addition of God but by a great multiplication, as He multiplied the bread and fish, as He said, be fruitful and multiply, as He said, not seven times but 70 times seven times. Gods action multiplies, it does not divide. Yet it does. He brings not peace but a sword, and a persons enemies will be his own family members. The Church is persecuted and persecuting, both, holy and sinful, both, and despite denials, often contradicts Scripture. We might view this as hypocrisy, but I do not think it is, yet I do not think it should be ignored either. The truth is contradictory, is exemplified by this Church professing love, but burning heretics, or silencing those who disagree with Rome. I believe God loves each of us, as well as the Church and the World, not despite our contradictions, but because of them. It is we who find ourselves unbearable, judging one and all, condemning sinners, other faiths, critics, even our closest friends. But my conscience judges only me, it is me I am to give an account of. My faith says this, love would have it so, but I dream of reasons, most quite good, why the other is wrong and I am right. Then we are a kind of paranoid, living a delusion, thinking I am somebody, fearful of the stranger and neighbor, in love with myself, if with anyone at all. As Nietzsche once confessed after going mad, he never loved anyone, not even himself. To know that there are good and evil that really contradict and that nevertheless we are not to sin or do evil, that to know the good and not to do it is a sin, that we are therefore, again, to be perfect, means that although contradiction is forgiven, that is not a

license to sin. And perhaps the greatest sin is to deny the truth. John Paul II once said that the most important word in the Bible is truth. In denying the truth we deny God Himself Who is the Truth in a person. The truth is a person, not abstract, and easy to love, with a real heart, really tempted like us, suffered and died like us, had a mother, was just a worker in wood, never wrote a book, never married, had a brief career and would have been forgotten, if He had not been God. And because He is not forgotten, neither are we, though we seem to be, after only fifteen minutes of fame. Most of us never get even that much, thank God. But because God loves us and wants us to love Him, as Therese said, we will not only not be forgotten, but live forever. Eternity was the great point of departure for me when I was first called by God in 1989, and my conversion was the immediate fruit of a paper I wrote on the distinction I drew between eternity and the Infinite, departing from Levinas, on the one hand, and Nietzsche on the other, Eternity for me is a religious notion, the Infinite mere philosophy, all against what I once studied, Nietzsches eternal return, that infinite circle without exit, and the ethics of Levinas which posits the Infinite but not its limitation by Eternity. The circle that I had been in for five years was in 1989 for me, as Derrida said, effracted, the economy broken, my debt paid, I was redeemed and freed, and yet bound to God, though not bound essentially anymore to sin, as I set out on a journey, which at times was painful, boring, mad, mystic, full of love, and filled with the attempt to write something about what I was thinking and experiencing. The basic premise of my work as an author from the inception in 1989, after having rejected Derrida, was that deconstruction was a very bad thing, the philosophy of the Antichrist, and that it was to be refuted. However, before the present work is concluded the reader will find something else going on in my relationship to the thought of Derrida, and it will be seen to fulfill the implications of the thesis concerning the truth of contradiction [I have gone back and inserted this after the fact, having found out

something about Derrida I did not know before the Apocalypse actually occurred]. Along with arguing against that philosophy I tried to say something meaningful in a theological way, and about literature, both desires leading to graduate degrees in those fields. While I was at the University of St. Thomas in 2006, about half-way through graduate school, for a few days I lost my faith, but asked God twice, and was restored by His mercy. It has been my impression, ever since that point, that the Lord began leading the writing I was doing in a very deliberate way, as ideas unfolded I had never dreamed of, including the theory of arrival, the renovation of dialectical logic, a sound refutation of deconstruction, the way to freedom out of the impasse of necessity and fantasy, the discovery of numbers beyond the four-square format of arrival, and much else, including the later stages of thinking through the problem of contradiction that I had initially engaged in in the 1990s as my particular problem, but which I came to discover entailed more than my individual plight, and really, as Hegel indicated, is at the heart of reality. I came to see it is not that we contradict each other, but that we cannot logically accept that fact of existence, and so we live a little crazy, in denial about reality, which just cannot be true, as it is, yet we find it may really be the truth, WHAT IS. It is said: To everything there is a season, a time for everything under Heaven. In my reading of Shakespeare and Joyce in 2006 I could see the dramatic presentation of multiple conflicting points of view that nevertheless did not lead to the deconstruction. And so in the end, I have made my peace with deconstruction, while still opposing it, that is dialectically appropriating it so as not to be deconstructed by it, but have allowed the contradictions to stand, because the whole is the true, [or almost, for the truth is more than the whole] despite Adorno, and I was not wrong to oppose it so hard, it was not futile to choose a side and argue a case, and since I did so sincerely, perhaps learned something greater along the way, the truth of love, which does not seek its own, but really does believe all things,

as I echoed Paul in 1996, and yet opposes evil, while not resisting it, seeks justice for all, but mercy for all, sets limits, though truly free, obeys though disagrees, is both Catholic and catholic, the first not restricting the other by partiality or dogmatic possession, has seen both sides of the issue, still chooses some things over others, does not live dispassionately, yet tries to be peaceful, sins not because of but despite my philosophy, lets go of some things, though still acquires, holds fast to that which is good, and while I understand I am a walking contradiction inside a contradictory world, am alright with that, and do what I can to still make sense, to understand what I cannot understand and love God though I fear Him at the same time, and love everybody for Gods sake, which is impossible, but which God can do when I get out of the way and allow Him to. I have changed. He has taken place here. I am still as afflicted as ever, tempted and tried, but God is here, and I cannot turn away, nor do I wish to, and though only last Sunday I left mass and promptly forgot Him for over an hour, which led me to say an awful thing to my wife. I can now say not that one never arrives, or that our arrival must be, but I believe some do, or all will, if He will, though not as we will, but as God wills. Effort and will count, for we are judged by our works, but everything is grace, as Therese said, and absolutely faith justifies. The Bible says so many things in more than one way, even four gospels that often conflict and contradict, that we must change the way we think or ignore the great canonical truth that the Bible is true even when it contradicts itself, and that one must not isolate statements, but take it as a whole. One might say: In the beginning was the Account, which is one meaning of the word Logos used as the name of the Son of God. The word for Word means more than just word, and is paradigmatic of the truth itself, being also speech, reason, discourse, harmony, proportion and account, as well as much more, as I write in my work on Heraclitus. Words self-contradict, as a teacher of mine pointed out, remarking that people want words to mean only one thing, which

they do not, a fact that does not apply to numbers which do not mean but one thing as numbers, though we may find symbols in the ciphers, a fact that accounts for the plan for the temple in the book of Ezekiel. Newton said this plan for the Temple is the map for the mind of God, which inspired me to say that God is a Book, which is neither right, nor wrong, that is, unproven and not able to be proven, and although it does not seem to make sense, I say it anyway. To say that all religions are One, and yet not all religions are equally true, is valid. To say all of the Bible is eternally valid, that what it says about something in the past still applies today, especially regarding the Church, is what I think is true, that Scripture is essential Prophetic, but that any one isolated point of view is only partial, whether it is Catholic, Jewish, Islamic or Buddhist, and that only the totality can be the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even though all conflict. And yet we maintain our affiliations with the parts, while realizing they are not the whole, which is a representation of God. God is eternal and infinite, and in a logical space contains all possibilities, but as Aquinas said, what is eternal is actual, so He really is All in All already. We await our arrival, when He chooses, and learn patience as we wait, for as many have said, including Joyce, patience is the great thing. You learn to endure. As Holderlin said, the important thing is not to be somebody, but to learn. And endurance is good for the faith, and faith is what makes you real, if you are real. Faith creates being, the meaning I found for my first book on being and believing, four years too late, and in being born again we become real. We are in a real relation with God, not circling an impassive distant star, and yet we are also in a fixed relation, for God cannot change, which we cannot help but do in our immutable world filled with immortal souls. From our hearts we overcome our minds. Out of love we do not have to have a better reason, a better theology, a better job, a better car, a better house, a better wife, or a bigger and better anything than anyone else. In a sense contradiction is so democratic, so egalitarian, and dialogue so good,

to be at peace so welcome, and yet to fight for the right so necessary, to never quit or give up or in, but to keep going, to call out to each other as we run on, just keep going! which Badiou said is a definition of truth. There is no other race to run and to finish is to win, to go the distance as the fighter did in the old movie, to try, and though as we die we may not know if we won anything or what our lives really meant, yet to know that if we have loved, some real thing was made, a living spiritual being that is like having a baby in terms of the natural world, but may be how God is born, in us, and how His book came to be, for us, why he lived and died, with us, and did not give up, out of love, one of us, and my religion was not wrong about God being love, as John said: God is love. When we love each other, God is more God, I think, and we help create the World with Him, the creation being something not inessential or extrinsic to God, but a world He loved so much He died to save it. Turn to Him, then, and do not let your hearts be hardened. Turn to each other, and find God in the midst. He was crucified along with two others. In the four accounts in the gospels, only Luke mentions that one was saved. Yet there is that one chance, that one hope, that one account, and we accept this in a way Samuel Beckett could not, who also could not accept suffering, who lived in perpetual exile. We are not yet home, but we are not still in exile. We are on the way, and God is coming to meet the prodigal, the thief, the sinner, even the good. We do not know what He will say, or even if He is a He, as in some churches which are progressive, but God will come, we only seem to wait indefinitely, impatiently, in pain, in love, in our aloneness and in our business, in our dream of justice and peace and equality, which contradicts the world, but is really more real than the reality we see, and faith being the substance of things hoped for, what makes the real really real, and the evidence of things not seen, the living proof, we hear the word, receive the gift of faith, and become real, sometimes right away, sometimes years later, as in the difference between the

conversion of Paul and the conversion of Augustine, not for our sakes alone but for the sake of the whole, and to be a drop in the infinite sea is a much better thing than imagined when we spent our days on the shore playing with the shells and rocks and things that amused, distracted, but did not help us become what we were meant to be. Accepting the truth of contradiction is not the way to arrive, but rather some point you reach just before arrival, how far before no one knows, but somewhere between departure and approach. As I said once, in a paper on Augustine and Derrida, to contradict the theory that a letter can never arrive, because of a structure of error built into the postal principle, if you set out and just keep going, you cannot help but arrive, you will not get lost forever, and even if you lose your way, God will find you. Perhaps He can only find us precisely when we are lost. We must lose ourselves in order to be found. We lose our lives in order to really begin to live. Whether that is before or after death, or only after resurrection, after the particular or the general judgment or a long time in the fires of purgation, or if simply knowing and loving God is already to have arrived, I do not know. I believe all of the above. That is the answer you give God when He asks you that one last, hard question that means so much. All of the above, Lord, all of the above. It may be that the question though will be simple and easy, as simple as Who do you love? If we can honestly say You alone Lord, you are my inheritance, all I desired in all I desired, we will be closer to the truth. With what is thought to remain? John Paul II asked in his youth, and the reply he gave was With the truth, of course. If we sincerely seek the Truth, while not violating conscience, we will be saved. These words of Vatican Council II, said in relation to the religions of the world, should be kept in mind when considering truth, in that neither Christians nor anyone else own it entirely, and that precisely when the truths of the world all contradict, this does not add up to the negation of the truth, but to its very completion, just short of our true fulfillment in the All in All. It has been

said we should not let the perfect be the enemy of the good, which is a theology of politics, compromise, but I say, follow the truth wherever it leads, for wherever God leads you, He will provide for you, even though it be impossible, a promise which is the logic of mercy, absolute. This absolute is free, free of reason, meaning to say, at least we must not look for reasons to believe, like theologians, but allow ourselves to be created in our essential being by faith, to have sheer faith and to leave the rest to God, whose mercy and justice are one.

THE FORM

Seeing the form is part of the basic requirement to know and love the truth. It is the point of concentration at which the work meets the world. This meeting of you who are the work of God, and any work you may do, with the world, is a kind of crisis, crux, or turning point. The world tries to inform you, reshape you and conform you to itself and its purposes, which vary depending on time and place, but which universally have principles such as pleasure, desire and power expressed today through finance and politics. We are told by Paul to be not conformed to the world. Thus, one must not be too informed by it or of it, either. On what basis then shall we be formed? Let us say on faith, hope and love, theological and spiritual gifts that money cannot buy. They can be simulated or denied or distorted or destroyed by the terrorisms we experience, but they yet abide by the power of the Spirit and are taught by the Church in prayer in the Word. We are thus formed. What is the Form? It has been described in a variety of ways, beginning with Plato, as in the Timaeus, in which is posited the khora or womb, the matrix of creation in which or through which the god or demi-urge fashions certain actual shapes of things. These

things are like atoms, building blocks of the reality. Derrida, once he had carried through on the destruction of form, turned to the khora in his later years, perhaps wanting to see the unshaped behind the shape, as Plotinus put it, a text Derrida also referred to in his writing on the secret in the late 90s, as well as in an exergue in the 60s. I think he went from a divided origin in 1967 to go beyond the moment of the fall to return to an original unity of all things in the great affirmation, the YES he finds in Nietzsche and Joyce. And he may have done this, and completed the double movement he had promised. But, let us stop short of that speculation, basically ideal, on the source of formation, calling that rather, in faith, simply God, and look instead at the Form itself in order to find the truth about it from which if possible a word can be spoken about the act of formation and the One from which the forms proceed. Form is determined by number, the definite limit, and not by language, which is in principle indefinite and contradictory. Music and poetry are based on number in a way the novel and the newspaper are not. Western culture has moved from the limit of number toward an undefined and indefinite space, call it the abyss, the precise opposite of the womb of khora, the abyss being akin to the tomb. Specific form can be seen as for instance the unity, the binary, the trinity, the symphonic square, the gnomic fifth, the complete seven of the combination of the three of God with the four of man, and ultimately the all in all of God times man found in the 12. These are the seven basic steps in the arrival of the dialectical form. Our task is to realize the symphonic form of the four, which is our totality. Without this shape we will not fit with God. How do we thus arrive at the square? In a variety of ways in my works I both describe and explain it, but the work also exemplifies it. It does this through the logic of the form on which it was based and which it shows forth. The work takes as the basis of its logic the idea of arrival at the four, the square. But as I say in one place, all work is completed by the reader and by the grace of God which

illuminates the mind and accords the work its reception. There is further than the text of my work a context. This context is that of God, Church and World, versus the fourth of the work in my point of view, a position from which the reader will in the reading of the work be enabled to view God-Church-World. The singularity of the I, the subject, the work, is the essential completion and perfection of that system, and it effracts the circularity of the metaphysical GodChurch-World system. Thus the work by its existence, that it is, completes what it is about, just as the autobiographical elements of the works fit with the tripartite criticism of theology, philosophy and literature, the creative elements being the arrival of the criticism, and the metacritical completing in time an arrangement in the space of the concept. Each of us must take on this work-like aspect, and step outside the system of the world, be not conformed to it, and in a way, be re-formed through a continual reformation, so as to stand in our arrival, before God, for our own sakes and for the good of the whole which needs each of us to complete the circle precisely by breaking the circularity, call it the textuality itself, by our own creativity, creating not just my life, but bringing about the whole life of real form. Unlike the context theory of Derrida which says that the text is in the context of the world, a world which is in principle and in fact insatiable and unsaturable, the destabilizing of the text and the opening up of it, I say the God-Church-World system is the text of which the paradigmatic work-like I is the context which is the point of view of the reader or author or any other singularity, the word for instance, but supremely the unique number, which at once both opens the circularity of that objective system only in order to complete it and close it, that is to move it from being an illusionary thing into the real and the true which is and which does not merely seem to be. And so I must be formed as the I, and I think that enables then a real We or community, in order for the God-Church-World system to be not an illusion but be in reality. Unless I am real, it cannot be real, but if I am, it

will be as well. I do not think this is merely an as if, but is the actuality of the actual, the existence of essence. Thus I must act, but only on myself, and becoming a true singularity, actually, not ideally, make real and true the world, which depends on me, on each one of us, on each work as such, to be meta, not para, in relation both to oneself and to the whole, and when each is one, all will be One, every other, wholly other, for the One. We must not doubt that we are real despite the unreality of the world system which confronts us with for instance what it calls the ultimate fact of our deaths. Death is not real, it is but an illusion, and is not the limit. Do not worry about death, for God is not the God of the dead but of the living, and Christ came to defeat the illusion of death by the truth of life. Death imposes fear on people, but the living truth sets us free. We are either dead or alive, now not later. We are either saved or we are not, there are not degrees of salvation. You are either real or you are not, there are not degrees of reality. There are only Reality and Illusion. You must become real, because no one can do this for you, it is the journey you must make in life. Christ, some think, did it for us, took our places in an economy of salvation, which he did in principle, and in fact, yet also to show us the form and breach the circularity of God-Church-World, to arrive first and be the way for us to follow in order to arrive later. He said deny yourself, that is to say, limit yourself, in order to arrive. You must be definite, not indefinite, finite, not infinite, one, not many, restricted in order to be really free, obey by faith, which is specific, not generally without conditions to affirm or love everything in an indefinite gesture. You make yourself, you make the work, the marriage, the art, the idea, the love, the act, the end. Without Christ you can do nothing on your own, and yet with Him you can and must make your own reality as well as the reality of the whole. He does not do it without you. You have the responsibility for your own arrival, on which others depend as well, for we are in community, a family, a world, and no other, but just one. Therefore, do not judge

another. That means do not interpret their place on the map of arrival, how near or how far. You cannot do that until you have arrived, and after you arrive you will not want to. Mercy is a way to arrive. Without mercy the world judges, criticizes, condemns. It is gossip and slander. I must be different. Some see the great affirmation of postmodernism as this stepping out of judgment, but that is but a simulation, a lack of real discernment. By affirming, some deny the truth. The arrival of morals is found in mysticism, the arrival of time in eternity, the arrival of truth in contradiction, the arrival of the text in the context. You are the context of the world, not it of you. By opposition one creates the greater harmony. The creation of it depends on the proportion, a way of being that is an acknowledgment, a thanksgiving, a turning to the care of the whole by being whole yourself. Eliot said in the end is the beginning, to know from whence we set out on our journey, and to know it really for the first time. We went unknowing, but by stepping outside the circle or system, the text or the world, by becoming one, by becoming myself, I return not in judgment but in mercy, to see and yet not be seen, to know and yet not be known, to understand and love, though I be misunderstood and unloved, to be at peace amid strife, to be order in the chaos, to be light in the darkness, to be effaced in all this, and as is said, to be Christ, therefore not myself, to have the Mind of Christ, that is, to become a child of God. I think in order for this conclusion to be accepted the premises of my argument must be properly understood, and that chiefly in defining the term of God-Church-World. By this implication of God in the Church and in the World I speak not of the God of Jesus Christ, but rather the god of those who denied him, the one whom William Blake said is the god of this world. That god is a lie, the father of lies and would perpetuate a certain morality in the Church and an immoral or amoral attitude in the World, in order to cut off the mystical arrival on which we depend as our goal. That so-called god is a kind of reason which has become the reasoning of men, but which

denies faith, and is really sin. All morality based on it is really the great sin, the judgmental morality, rather than the mystical forgiveness that loves and does not judge. The grand affirmation of the postmodern is a short-circuit of the steps leading to mysticism that stops short of true love and forgiveness and mercy by going beyond the moral and immoral, good and evil and, hesitating in the amoral, thinks it has arrived by accepting and affirming the whole. But the whole of reality cannot be seen from this vantage, because it is that point of view is still a part of the circularity of God-Church-World. The real God of Jesus Christ is what others have termed the God beyond god, Eckhart and Tillich did so, but which has been misunderstood by some in their great affirmation as the opposite of what He truly is. Unless one breaks the system and steps out of the text as such the truth of God cannot be seen. As long as one is trapped by language games and time, which we have been told are absolutes that we cannot get around, such will be the case. Silence and eternity are words for the place outside the circularity and are characteristic of mysticism. Absolute knowledge involves the arrival of dialectic by stepping out of the speculation which is theory in recent years. Derrida interdicted the step but it has been taken. The uncanniness of the simulations of truth must be overcome by a love that casts out fear, a trust in the mercy of Jesus that defeats the terror against the truth, what denies you, the attempt to deconstruct you. When you are, it will no longer be. When you take the necessary, impossible, yet promised step, you will arrive. In order to do this one must turn toward, not away from, the truth of Christ, repent from evil and believe. The opposite of this metanoia is the paranoia that is all around us, in the text of the God-Church-World system, the fear you see in the eyes of strangers, the delusions of grandeur we sometimes fall prey to, and an alienation that simulates the real solitude of one who has explicated the implications of the logic of what is the deconstruction in postmodernism, the closure of the system of God-Church-World as a network

textuality. The signs of that only give interpretations that go on indefinitely. Opposed to it is the number, as such, the shape of truth, the form, untranslatable as a poem is, as obvious as light is, pure like silence and quiet mediation, a mysticism that effracts the circle in the sheer ascent of love up, out of the world, the direction of prayer and resurrection, the life of the Most High. God, by being most high, stops all regression, progression and aggression, by his great egression. The I AM breaks the text. To de-form the world as Derrida has done, or as de Man did in the disfiguring of the poem, or as Bloom did in ruining the truths, is to deny the truth of the I AM of the existence of that which is by a fruitless going-back-of the shape to get to the unshaped, the One of Plotinus, and simulate it in the world, to deconstruct that which is into what it is not, because the world, as seen in the God-Church-World concatenation or chain of implications, does not exist, only I AM real, which is to say, reality depends on the I AM of God said to Moses, and existence, reality, is to partake of this I AM, lesser only in degree, and in the atonement to be at one with God, when one can say I am and really say something in fact, in deed, not as a way of positing the truth, not as an assertion which is in fact a denial, but as the transcendent fact that escapes the black hole of God-Church-World, which would trap everything which is not spiritual. The metaphysical truth which so many seek is the truth of what Blake and Coleridge called the imagination: the great I AM of absolute existence, the that-ness of the shape or of art or of the poem, not the what-ness which instead of defining and through definition giving limit and shape, logic and aesthetic, that is, seeing the form, actually and essentially denies the existence in the mystery of consciousness, another term for imagination, which we experience as self-evident but which cannot be found other than in the act of being itself. It is to say I AM against an I am this or that. To say I am this or that is to give your occupation or define yourself in some way, but the truth is outside the implications of your role in the world. Your

truth must be to be One. You are defined by your relation to the One truth. Your truth must be to be able to say I AM, absolutely, without any other meaning. This is not to put yourself in Gods place, but rather to allow God to take place and so break the closure of the text of God-ChurchWorld, which would deny the freedom of the glory of the great I AM of God. Gods hands are not tied, as one young man once told me at the seminary. Theology might think so, and the Church and the World act as if it were, but you, when you say I AM in the sense God does, free yourself from their god, not in order to become God, but by being what God intends you to be, free, know the truth. In knowing this truth, the I AM, aside from any essence for the world to deconstruct, then and only then will I be, then I am free and real and One and in-deconstructible. As is God. If I am free, real, One and in-deconstructible, then I am open to the faith of Christ. To be faithful is to be in real relation. It is to be in true relation which is a keeping in relation to the truth. All falsehood is unfaithfulness and breaks relation with the truth. When you step out of the world, or the God-Church-World system, you dissolve the false bond that held you in slavery to all lies and dissimulation and come into the truth of your relationship to God in Jesus Christ, and thus by being outside the system of the text, become meaningful, have meaning, and you are without lie the transcendental signified. If you are faithful to Christ you stand on the rock where Moses stood, the firm foundation of the truth of the gospel. From this point the world as a lie ceases to exist, the truth is told, and when you become real, it becomes real, the church is reformed, and then God takes place in you, the event of the truth occurs, your own faithfulness and transcendence being the act which converts the phantasm of the world. Truth is not the conversion to the phantasm as was thought in medieval philosophy, but against it, the turning of phantasm itself, the illusion which is not the imagination but the distortion of truth by fanciful associations and juxtapositions which do not create but destroy through a relation not meta but

para. The relation of para, the separate reality, which we are informed by the world is the truth about each and every one of us, is the denial of the One that is God the All in All. The city of God is the meta which is beyond the world and is in a critical relation to its lie because of the faithfulness of the meta to the truth of God. Faithfulness requires the denial of self, not the denial of truth, the taking up of the cross, not the crossing-through of the Word by a kind of erasure that is the mark of the Derridean text, his strategy of writing, like the X placed over the word Being by Heidegger in his later work, the crossing-out of meaning by what some called the crucifixion or passion of the Word in theologies closer to atheism than to God, and finally, as disciples of Christ, the following of the way which is Christian, the steep and narrow pathway, the strait way which is the acceptance of the reality of suffering as essential to joy, its contradiction and completion and fulfillment, for temporal enemies are spiritual friends, as Blake said. In our day, everyone goes their own way, as in the Book of Judges, seeming to be individuals, but in reality only fragments suspended in the vicious medium of technology and information, the IT, while the faithful follow Christ, despite the worlds opinion. There are only truth and opinion, and there are either, for each of us, the two opposing points of view, which are first, that Christ is the truth, or second, that He is a matter of opinion. Some people think there is no longer any truth at all, but only opinion, and this has become the glory of our time, the fame of the opinion-makers. They make themselves by their own opinion superior to everyone else when in fact they have ceased to be real, are less than nothing, and are actually only as equally invalid as all others who hold to what Parmenides called the way of opinion, thinking they have done a great thing in turning aside from the existential gloominess of the concept of nothingness, which though dark actually had more truth than the semblance in the world of opinion, which is neither being nor nothingness, and which was the real goal of nihilism, the abyss, which is not the nothing but the

hell of a world without truth or love or any notion of the meaning of the good. As one student put it, rightly or wrongly, you decide, the good means so many things it no longer means anything. Heidegger said as much of being. If you do not know the truth about the truth, you will believe that what I am saying is simply another opinion. Thus we live in two worlds, one in which there is truth and it is knowable through faithfulness, freedom, becoming one, being real, taking a stand against deconstruction, and another parallel world that is based on the rule of interpretation that any thing can be juxtaposed alongside any thing else, and call that connection, call that pattern, call that order, call that truth, that there are no absolute truths but only effects like the writing that is the counterfeit of truth which is so common no one any longer knows truth from falsity, that there are only opinions, and that to be truly free is to be able to express ones opinion whenever one likes, where there are no longer facts, even, but only points of view, and in which all religions are like foods in a restaurant, with faith being a matter of choice from the menu. But such is not the truth of faithfulness, for the faithful choose or are chosen, are given the gift of faith, and do not change their minds, but live by principles that do not easily change depending on the issue, which for the democratic voter invariably means self-interest, while in the world of opinion one may change ones diet as one chooses, and if one grows tired of fish one may choose fowl, that is, change as the weather, or simply change the channel on the TV. It has always been thus. If one does not believe the truth to be possible, one will not bother to seek it. If one thinks it impossible to be perfect, one will not try to be. If one does not think that faith and morals are based on anything other than mere opinion, one may do as one likes. We obey no law that we do not agree with. As has been said, if nothing is true then everything is permitted. But look at the course of the world in the 100 years since those words were published. Have we benefited from the freedom to do everything that we wish? Certainly it has been fun, in a way, but with

unintended consequences that are still not clear to many, dots still un-connected into a picture for them. To live in denial and debt and fear, under terror, without truth, amid great corruption and evil, in a world without love, or almost so, losing hope, adoring idols, consuming, spending, rather than making, having, rather than doing or being, forgetting so many of the things on which we once depended to support our free lives in a nation conceived in liberty, has almost brought us to the final collapse. Yet, God has not given up on us and the truth still exists despite our denying and ignoring it. What must be done? Those who are faithful must keep on in their faithfulness and not give up or give in. The faithless world which the faithful are among as lights in the darkness is not beyond redemption, or God would have already come in the day of apocalypse, the day of the Lord, the Day of Judgment. There is still time and that means because of the love of God there is still mercy. Time is the mercy of God, though some think that it proves He does not exist. Derrida even mocked Gods patience in the pages of deconstruction, the deferral and delay, the hesitation, the grand affirmation, the Messiah, hospitality, justice, openness to the other, and by the putting into question of hierarchy and sovereignty, the word and the book, the self and the same, even being as presence, and what he at last termed the deconstruction of actuality. The reduction of binary logic by Nietzsche first, and now by almost everyone, to the one leveled generality that is the sameness of the postmodern diversity culture, mocks the oneness of the Real, as the world of semblance imitates the Truth, the para deconstructs the meta, amid the many twists and turns in the labyrinth of the text, but there is no longer simple conversion, only versions: perversions, inversions and subversions. We are so late, so far from our origin, and cannot find the way back. But we must trust that God will meet us where we are, that He will have mercy on the world, that He will be the peaceful Shepherd who pastures his sheep. If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts. I believe that God has

placed in everyone some timeless resource of the Spirit of truth that man cannot destroy, and that if God will He can yet save some, or many, or all. We do not know, and yet one must believe, an echo of the later Derrida in his book on blindness. To the faithful I say: do not stop believing. You may still be an instrument of the grace of God in a way unforeseen, and you must be open to the Spirit to be used as God wills. To the faithless I say: look at the world around you, all your pleasures and treasures, your cares and debts and commitments or lack of same, and ask yourself what is the cause of the misery in you and in all those you call friends and family. To do this you must look in the mirror of the question and recognize yourself in the answer. Do not be afraid. What you see is not real. When you are changed it will be. It will be because there is nothing that is hidden that will not be revealed. You will be changed and you will come to know the truth of yourself, in the mind of God.

THE LOGIC

Taking off from Platos Parmenides, Derrida makes the impossible possible, therefore actual, deconstructing actuality, by making it impossible, in short, by contamination. How does this take place? I could say by examples, that is, taking out, citing, rather than taking back, which is rooted in redemption, as etymologies show. The deductions regarding the ONE that Plato makes through the character of the philosopher Parmenides lead to the assertion of the truth of contradiction. That is, that by which something both is and is not in the same respect at the same time. Contradicting Aristotle and many others, Derrida holds this to be the case, the contradictory truth. Hegel did the same. The Idealist opposes being and nothing at the beginning

of his Logic and synthesizes them into becoming. Canceled out, lifted, and preserved, at one and the same time, the Aufheben. It is the concept itself, words which mean more than one thing, words that contradict themselves, that is the mechanism in the dialectical logic that works to produce the tertium quid. Without creation ex nihilo, dialectic is the way to make it new. Lately there has been the mere juxtaposition of signs and things, the method of the deconstructive restructuring: any two signs or texts can be connected from any distance under any rule. That is textuality. But it leads both from and to a logic I will outline and resolve. Derrida found a way to stop the dialectic, to contradict Hegels contradiction, the antithesis that becomes synthesized, otherwise than by the basic EITHER / OR of the existential which Kierkegaard propsed as the solution to the system of the Hegelians. Derrida does not exactly negate the negation, as one says of the dialectical maneuver, which requires the work of the negative, a certain resistance, rather by a passivity, as seen in the works of Blanchot or the philosophy of Heidegger. In a pure play, a free play without any rule but lability, a pure semblance, a mere nothing, almost, but actually neither being nor nothing, but also both being and nothing, at once, which seems to be the force of opinion. Derrida contradicts dialectic by taking the BOTH / AND of Hegel, and adding a NEITHER / NOR. This is the move Plato made in regards to the One. It is both being and nothing, but neither being nor nothing, therefore, no becoming. No life, no movement, only the semblance of it, as Plato, Zeno and the fountainhead Parmenides had shown. There is but One, but not the ONE of the truth, the Good, rather the one of the AS IF TO BE, which is beyond good and evil, neither being nor nothing, rather only seeming. We can still say the seeming only seems to be, but that is its only chance, as Derrida said in an essay on the Phaedrus. The question is neither TO BE nor NOT TO BE, as Hamlet said and Camus famously echoed in the essay that established his philosophical credentials, but rather am I to be or merely

am I AS IF TO BE? That is the alternative to life and death, and can be rather ghostly, neither really dead nor really alive, a third thing, to refer to the dialectic, but strange, not life, but deathin-life. If we will yet be, we will be one day, but sadder and wiser men who have known deathin-life, the opposite of the resurrection, the evil ghost spirit against the revivifying Holy Spirit. Both Heidegger and Derrida demonstrated this, as I wrote of early on in The Gift. When there is no becoming there is nothing but becoming, which is a contradiction. And which is true. But in this case becoming truly ceases, as does anything which is nothing but, as Kierkegaard showed in saying that if there are nothing but Christians, in Christendom, there is no more Christianity. He used the same logic as the Nietzschean HISTORY OF AN ERROR in Twilight of the Idols: eliminate one of a pair, the other does not remain. A single shoe is not much good alone, except to use as a hammer. But in destroying the ideal, the real ceased. The deconstruction of ideality led to the deconstruction of reality. Now we have neither. We have everything and nothing now, each thing and its opposite, as I know I am myself, in that I am self-contradictory. I am both good and evil, but some things simply are in fact, like the Holocaust. It did both happen and not happen, which is true in the world of opinion, not in the world of fact. But facts have altogether vanished. Whatever is asserted loudly enough and long enough comes to be believed. This kind of belief is not solid faith but public opinion. Unfortunately it seems that kind of weak credence is all that causes us to cohere as a world today. The market is unstable. People no longer believe or trust, because they know it is not the real facts they are being asked to believe in, rather opinion, however expert or official. Experts are a dime a dozen, and for sale everywhere. They use rhetoric, not reason, plausibility rather than proofs. Logic no longer works, it plays. For instance: language games, number games, Computations, Connections. But no ideas, no reality. For reality was anchored in a hierarchy of the ideal and the real, which has been

displaced by the nihilo, nihilism. In world history we had two basic philosophical positions, realism and idealism, but nihilism displaced both. All together this has created what I call the God-Church-World text, or onto-theology as Heidegger put it. What is needed is grace to Effract this circularity, and that means an I outside the text ready to receive the call of God in grace. When this happens a RING is formed: realism, idealism, nihilism, grace. I have said that to believe is to be. In a world without any reason, I have found that if one at least has faith, the one thing necessary, one still exists. The others only seem to. My logical project has been two-fold. On the one hand, to secure stability for thought, what I call arrival, against both dialectic and its deconstruction, and on the other hand, to rewrite deconstruction itself, that is to synthesize all logics, even in their contradictions. I think that one way to reverse the Derridean simultaneous affirmation and denial is through the existential logic of the free choice. Another way is through asking ourselves the question that Sherlock Holmes asked in his method of deduction. He said something like: Eliminate whatever is impossible, and what remains, however improbable, must be the truth. With God, all things are possible, nothing is impossible for God. But if, as those since Nietzsche have done, one eliminates God, one eliminates what Levinas called the messianic vigilance of the eternal against potential infinities, for instance, of time. In which evil could return, after the apocalypse. But what of an infinite logic? An infinite text? The impossible becomes possible, unless there is a limit. ACT is that limit. God is pure act, as Aquinas wrote, and this pure act eliminates the impossible by reducing potency to actuality. Believe all things. Even contradictions. In fact, to be true to the truth we must contradict the lie of the world. The way to contradict Derridas logic of the both-and-neither-nor is to cut the knot by an act of faith, to say no to the not by saying yes to God. This does the following: 1) It is a real act, neither possible nor impossible, but simply IS. 2) It is a way of Effracting the circularity

by an authentic RING. God-Church-World will remain a hypothetical and hypocritical, hypercritical sham and fantasy until you say I AM because I believe in God. People will think it mere pretense done for base motives, fear, greed, etc. Ignore them. Make your act of faith in God anyway. 3) Your act of faith reestablishes a hierarchy by recognizing One above ourselves down here in the leveled general text. Transcendence is necessary to escape the machine of GodChurch-World, by I in relation to the Most High. 4) This act makes you real. Brings you into real relation with the really Real and you are saved, and in you being saved, others are as well. Not potentially, but actually. Not cognitively, but substantially. In the act of faith you actually though invisibly arrive. In the stability of the arrival of the act of faith, one may take action against falsehood and injustice. It is the grace and mercy of God to arrive, faith itself is a gift, a mystery, but not impossible, just hard to think, though not to feel, or believe. Faith, not will to power, is that which truly empowers. God will not make you believe, but if you will but believe, God will work miracles for you and others. Most of all He will make you real again. The act of faith involves volition, choice, action, but also reception, the receiving of the gift, and openness, trust, hope. What little we have God will multiply and restore. Both our will and Gods are free. Deconstruction eliminated freedom by affirming all, erasing distinctions in the polar oppositions in which they are found. An opposition in scripture is: Your faith has saved you. You will be judged according to your works. You must believe both. The act of faith is the step that humbles the law of reason by a greater one. Derrida said that all was always already complicated at the origin, and followed the implications of that. But the step of the act is original simplicity. Step out of the complicity of the world. Step into supplication by the explication of the logic of deconstruction that forces one to conclude that action must be taken. When we realize that God believes in us even more than we believe in Him, we will therefore love. You need not choose

between logic and love: logic leads to love. When you have reason, then you have faith, or when you have faith, then you have reason, but without one or the other, both are lost. In faith, free yourself to think, or think your way through the trouble with the text, and take the step of faith. God calls, time is short, the world needs you. Say I am it and complete the ring of friendship with God by the graceful act of faith.

Michael Bolerjack Will Have Been A Book

will have been a book, filled with many signatures, at least three or four, or seven or twelve, but never simply two or one, for then there will be no signature and no end to the signatures, for the cuts and the wounds to heal, not in schizophrenic fashion, as the symptom that produces its own fore-healing, out of the play of forces that exert us within and without, making us both hyper sexual and hyper textual in the same instant of madness, overloaded with desire, overly attentive in our reading, trying to discern the indecipherable, circles of selves to fit the square hole of the abyss on the page and the stage, that framework of tech city, that un natural un shaped form less form beyond the simplicity of the curve of life that distorts our being into the one multi-task of living and dying in the same interrupted, as I met my age and did shoulder I knew not what, but God knew, when I knew Him not, and in the seeming interregnum of the vacant dethroned disfigured decapitated deconstructed I sought the absolute, and held that we should go from nothing to everything, and against the grain, and despite the triumph of the will and the eclipse of reason and the ebbing of faith and trust, I was a seeker, but I was found, and though it seemed I was struck by genius and by magic and by the muse, yet I did strike a blow, not against all that, but at the giant Goliath in the way, and what my rock was you should know, and what the sword, that too you shall know, for there was a behemoth, call it what you will, a thing I sum post-modern, that can in principle, of its own terms, never be summed, no summa yet possible, yet summation required, and that theological, and a synthesis, to appropriate and not to be appropriated, and to give and not to count

moment, like the supposed, like the word itself, which gives itself away in speech yet retains itself in the graphic shadow of a drawn and quartered neo-nor, the syn- despised, the thesis suspended, the trace of something that escapes both wisdom and foolishness, a kind of hilarity that is the death of serious work and building, dwelling and thinking, for a wandering polysemy, polylogia, a bare hymen of meaning between ourselves, our frail consciousness and the abyss of nonentity, that ISBN said is sacred yet tainted with vice, and in the taintedness, dreams of our yet un written pages flowing with no restriction to the falls of hymeneal aggravations and abusive abysses, the assault of the letter A on all we are, an aggregation of insubstantial structures, the cost, and to shoulder like Atlas, and not to merely shrug, and to stand under God when all around me the world was falling, not searching, but despising, and rushing, in economy, to spend all the capital of our inheritance, to waste the rich deposit of faith and reason so carefully built up by work and sweat of men and women over 4000 years, the great remainder of all dwindling to almost nothing, and then on bare credit to live, the future consumed as well, with nothing left for children, not even a generation to come, all it seems we have destroyed, even the possibility of action itself, the void invaded, the abyss and the gravity of it, the black star our hearts wed, the river she ran into no sea, and bells did ring always from morning till night, at dawn, at dusk, matins and vespers, weddings and funerals and a few more baptisms, but always in the church in the world, and in a tower that did not babble, though it did seem about to fall, and some supporting it, as

unlike 1, 2, 3, 4: but more like Nietzsche on the square, overcome overman, over a flogged and dying beast that was no thing but the wretched point at which his mind collapsed under the weight he could not support of a lifetime of the power of the open, but in order to arrive, in another way, without madness, yet still to find love, and this not in profits of extremity, but in the prophecy of catholic economy, when all will be not the glory globalizing but de-capitalizing, when the church of the new after the apocalypse, the time from 1945-2010, will emerge, a pure white nothing, a reconstructed theory and a reestablished practice, a Virgin, married to both God and Man, union of fecundity and yet with no actual relations with the world, a gift, a prayer that is apart, a part of the world that I and what we knew symbolically as 1000 points of light, as Francis did hold the church from falling, in his time, to make firm what was tottering and to do as has been said, we were all re-sponsible, though I was more responsible than the rest, as the priest told me that I was that man, as God called me, I lie not, and told me that I was doing it for the church because they were confused and did not understand His mercy, and that my vocation was true, and He does love me, and said so, and another priest said work on and risk and do not be discouraged, and as the King said, though 10,000 fall yet I will trust in you Lord, and there was no inter-regnum at the throne though the see may have been vacant, I do not know, but that the corruption of the time did reach even into the Church and did fell the world, and all, but at the same time in symbols, in signs, the real dialectic did prove that every action is every other action, as every other is holy other, despite the will to

transcends the world at the same time it absolutely transforms it, from both the inside and the outside, without force, yet traversing by a work the fantasy and the necessity of the lack of production for a reality promised but undelivered by the fasces, by the face of the veiled and the unveiled, by Jews and Moslems and the still Christian, by atheists and athletes of wealth, by a realm of morals that is being but transubstantiated to mysticisms without reserve, and finding in this the word of St. Sartre for the building up and tearing down by the anti sculptor Giacometti, who would with unceasing labor create and destroy the synthesis of art and religion and philosophy in the dialectic of the search for what another called the SA: as savoir absolute, in you, yes, therefore dissipation, and the will to deceive, and many there are who have been, we did still love and believe, and hope for the coming of the great day of our liberation from wealth and poverty, and all that goes with that economy, for an economy of grace and mercy that has always been and will always be, let it be done on earth as it is in heaven, dear Lord, I pray, that those who laugh will cease and those who mourn who will have a ceasing of their cause for mourning, and that in the age of analysis, we made something of our world, against it and for it at the same time, as was the Church, which despite the lack of holy attention still was mindful in missions and in charity and said so much right and did so much right and did so feed the millions with words and sacraments and breaking even in their daily bread, so done for that Church, a work stood, not torn down, though not one stone will be left atop another, as the Savior said, we may at last find the paradise throne, a temple interpreted as thee

Say that Jerusalem is

Perhaps my words disturb your prayer. Perhaps you, the mystic, need no points for meditation. But I speak of him to Him for you, while you simply pray. Eternity bounds, does not hem, limit us, rule us, give direction, up, then, into His storm, His eye, His calm interference in the mundane. With and without words: we must choose, be chosen. Both. To say little with so much, or speaking, innumerable, yet still say one thing necessary. Out of the many complexes, neuroses, psychoses, metastases, sees, out of all disease and disaster, stands one to come. And standing points above. I think I feel, feel something inside me, bower or brain, coming, about the turn, ever turning to, in myriads, ways without whys, lines drawn over our ignorances, hidden in, neither obscure nor occult, light rather, in light. Him. He is.

You know it. A story has begun.

You know, now, things fade, colors on cloth, even evenings fail into night, which is coming, still stars branch, and in the skull-cap of a thousand year we enroot our seed, between never-endings lay the middle, plications, sin, sun, son sing, song signed, not to fail or fade, would be story, would be tolled, full, filled, meant. Not to fail, not to fade, truth we know, for we are known, are stretched, fixed by means. If we mean to. But you, you did not, did both mean to fall but not to fail, and in falling your way, we but succeed you, without second.

He did not really speak, did you, you saw and shone, bright, dark, hiding, back-minded, earlodged, thought-lost, hest just but standing, no jest, no pose, no to impose, but you were the exposed. You stood out from. Time. Is.

The wound you were did not heal. Signatories. Numbers. Out of time. You appropriated, all, for but one thing. Making. Truth. Is. And you said, ever. Knowledge, knotted-hopes, full striven, in your arms storming, learn.

They say you had no foundation in essence, but traces, echoes, parts only, assemblers, without wholes, spirited words, yet spirit is, is that not a word? Problem of near-belief, teachers had not a key. Versions, only. Foundation riven, you, reft, logical, truthed, passed words, un-pasted, unposted, past juxtaposed. Cut. Words cut through you. Destroyed description and explanation, neither declared, but disclosed your wound, the wound of the word himself. Discard, forfeit. Utter. You behind the words. The logic bit. You bit back. Grapplers. You took our place.

For in all logic, if you can say that Jerusalem is, if we can say, still that Jerusalem is, the place required by logic is yet, and can be found, the assertion of faith, eternity of concern. You, truth and logic became, stripped, meaning. Not to say I have grasped, but in the struggle with truth, your victory was to be grasped. That this too is, is beyond doubt. Proven, in borders of scripture, commentaries, that do not explain the words, but enact them exactly, by being exposed. This is. If this is, subsist, without which truth-less, for accidentals, for appearances, no place to hide. A snow of illegibility, ran the wound, rain wind, ward, cover your words, sposed, desire as if to say the text itself, we only fall from a height, and now we are falling, and have

become so profound, because without foundation, catch us pall as we fall. Poems are snow, whiter words, virgins, martyrs, gentle, contoured by holiness, by logos, by logic without demand but to be true, faithful, snow-part of time, winter answer, dead, wait. The logic that strips away all but what is, strips seeming and opinion, even the nothing, to be the one, immovable, it is. Is it. Is it eternity. Is it snow set bounds in winter. Innumerable snow, unrepeatable words. Universal, singular, unparticular snows, how do you interpret snow or simplify the place. Snow did not extend, but bound, the form, by sheer material, prime, stuff of dreams. You. Glory of the snows, high reflectivity, light without heat, sheer blinding, purity, as if God to Abraham in winter, yours will be as the snows on highest ridged mountains, always. Will be, Jerusalem is. If you wake, wake to this. Snow regal, snow regard, but be regaled. In pieces of paper whiter witness not blank a testimony text, you found you, and said it. Is. Sheer holiness, is. Present, a heart-word, is.

We, snow-parts, perhaps, holding places, scattered yet gathered, drifted, yet still for a time, temporary words, tempting snows, we fell, like you, measurable by adversity, verses, that this is, still is for you, neither symbol nor transport, neither hidden nor shown, but snown, north of the future, where snow ever is. You offered often, eternity, a turn, a word with six sides, snowed, like stars of David, like Jerusalem is. Is, was, will be, has been, will have been, to be. Snowed, starred, scarred, worded, sonned, deepened. Depend. Deeper in snow is he to be. Yea. Not to be, never to be, but always still, is. Pall of snow.

Michael Bolerjack

THE WORDS OF JOYCE MICHAEL BOLERJACK

THE YES

To be Tolled in fragments: To take back the ringing yes from Derrida for Joyce, redeem it, not as example but as the unexampled, the unprecedented, unique, unrepeatable Yes. But, first the notes of the introduction leading to the redemption of affirmation:

A BB C BB A Absolute Father Son Holy Spirit Son Father Absolute Deconstructing the deconstruction to fulfill the deconstruction contrary to the truth of contradiction without contradicting the truth Complete Transcendent GOD Mediation church God Church World I World Church God Aaron Burl Bo Charlotte Bo Burl Aaron parents and grandparents

Law prophets writings prophets law Gospel/acts epistles revelation epistles gospel/acts

Love faith hope insight hope faith love The book contains the text not the text contains the book Zig zag Mystical flower Cross cross cross Mystical flower I am He is You are I am You are He is I am Autobiography effracts Epic drama fiction drama epic Eternal time spacing time eternal Exterior circular open effraction circular exterior Myth drama critical fiction drama myth Transcendent mediation immediate mediation transcendent Truth / truth of contradiction / contradiction / contradiction of truth / truth Nothing becoming being becoming nothing Square circle effraction circle square Necessity Freedom fantasy reality

Necessity fantasy, vicious circle, effraction by love and work Making free real Absolute act Possibility which is not Impossible which really is + -++

Act De of de

de act

How does de prevent de of de? How does deconstruction keep from deconstructing itself? It always already is deconstructed It starts out deconstructed Not with act Divided origin Immemorial origin No actual origin Post retro active projection changes the past into de De cannot be deconstructed from within What of synthesis? Making dialectic de Making de dialectic Nothing but Must be effracted. Possibility of impossibility Equals Impossibility of possibility How to contradict the contradiction? All goes through the I As if the truth never was As if the Jews did not die Both did and did not Neither did nor did not

Remains. The b/a/n/n [both and neither nor] Eliminates the either/or Dialectic both / and Leads to deconstruction No choice. Jump levels Silence effracts Accurate, he said If you can say either this or that then there is choice, free And the b/a/n/n [both and neither nor] is impossible Choice destroys deconstruction Deconstruction destroys choice Total-talitarian Either choice or non-choice Must not choose non-choice Choosing to choose, open Choosing not to choose, defer, is to allow de Two cities meta/para If we eliminate choice we eliminate our freedom Freedom is the thing itself, made impossible by de Possible made impossible, impossible made possible [disaster] Outside text is the context If there is a context there is difference choice freedom If all context is already text then no either/or If I am the context, in god-church-world, then I effract it, I choose to be Against the text, I am the standard of measure, I bind it, delimit the text Explain it, not it me The reader is the way the text arrives.

Text to weave If there are folds There are implications And explications An either/or Exemplify complication Simplify complication Supplicate A fold is a fold of something Examples Case in point Show Embody Typical Eximere- to take outReplication--Reply, fold back, plaintiffs reply, echo, copy Answer, reply, rejoinder. Law suit, dialogue Either plaintiff or defendant, choice Redeem--Re-emire, redeem, take back, not example, take out One steals by example or one is redeemed by taking back to original Either / or in replication---rejoinder reply or copy, you choose, are free Law means contradiction e/o [either/or] decision justice choice Complication Replication implication explication

Structure of plication

Either/or chooses one or other b/a/n/n [both/and/neither/nor] chooses all A-thesis before thesis, amoral before moral, no good / evil t/f [true, false] impossible Since complication only implications pli selon pli Since has been illusion explication is only illusion Always plus one Derrida seems to be bringing a unity into the text by yes+yes affirmation in Joyce Molly Blooms final statement: YES I SAID YES I WILL YES Meanings of YES 1. Used as a function word to express assent or agreement 2. Used as a function word to introduce correction or contradiction of a negative assertion or direction 3. Used as a function word to introduce a more emphatic or ex-plicit phrase 4. Used as a function word to indicate uncertainty or possible interest or attentiveness 5. Exclamation of jubilation Yes Said I Yes Perfect ringing of yes 4 words 7 times 12 letters Perfect proof of Metasignification Joyce knew the Ultrastructure well Bloom asks Molly to choose She chose Decision, choice An either him / or another Free / the deconstruction cut off / by a decision She does not defer but decides Yes I Will

She will Desire inclination disposed a testament To order to direct To choose As well him as another I thought as well him as another Indifference And yet, yes. Parse Yes/I said yes I will/Yes. Yes---three times I said I will 4 words Again / the Ultrastructure Yes three letters / will four / said four / I one, numbers, numbers, mystical forms. The final YES is the explication of all the rest Penultimate yes is choice Ante-penultimate is used to introduce a more emphatic or explicit phrase Penultimate emphatic agreement Ultimate the explicit, the explication still ringing. Yes: Janus at door looking back on the first three fictions and forward to the Wake: Dubliners said / Portrait will / Ulysses yeses I effraction / Wake is effracted text after I: Dubliners god / Portrait church / Ulysses world---Moral, rebellion, epic/simony, paralysis, gnomon/yes is the bit making the rest a gnomon---Text of god-church-world effracted by I saying yes.---In order to complete the three at step/decision, in order to arrive at four, in order to reach the all in all at Wake. Everything hinges on the Yes. It is dialectic that affirms and cancels. What takes place after the YES is a different order of things, meta / not para. Each step by Joyce goes further, and is never parallel, but at last fully meta. Beyond, the meta-novel, not antiAnything but completely free, pure, the joy felt after the act of faith: YES. Derridas YES/YES does not quite catch it, as if there were always one more yes to be said. What ULYSSES showed is that in making a final explicit YES, one affirms as in an act of faith and makes oneself free, Molly made her decision, Joyce his, and freed herself/ himself. It is the finality of the Yes that is important, not the possible indefinite addition. The final YES is more than any of the four meanings given, it is a meta-static-yes. It is final, but it structurally cannot stop being said, at once final and infinite, but never indefinite. It is not like a total count in the making, plus one, but at once all numbers combined, a symbol for God in a book both profane and, yes, sacred. I have shown the ringing of the YES, circular in structure and as Ultrastructure, But what of the b/a/n/n the both/and/neither/nor? What of the banns? Of marriage. Wedding ring, a banding, binding.

The banns of Derrida impossibly bans the wedding, anti-banns, It makes the I DO Impossible. It makes the YES of decision impossible, allowing only the meaning of a kind of inattentiveness. Derridas YES is the opposite of Joyces. It does not explicate, does not choose, is not emphatic, neither does it assert the contrary, but rather like a manager will murmur to an employee yes, yes while never intending action. The last seven words of Molly recall her decision to marry, wedding banns, that ban the Derridean appropriation before-hand. She chooses one, not all. Just Bloom. And re-affirms her choice. Renewal. Of the Banns. To say this YES is always to choose the faithfulness, though we have been unfaithful. It is a kind of repentance, a YES that turns, that brings back, that redeems. Derrida takes it out of context, examples it, rejects the redemption, the supplicatory aspect of the final Yes in Ulysses. That YES does not replicate, does not implicate, and though it is in a position to explicate does not, and is supremely simple, not complicated. The YES is a supplication. It does not supplement itself, it prays. It is neither folded nor unfolded, for it has never been enfolded. It is a plea, not a pli. The YES simplifies the matter. It is not pliable, but resolution itself, resolving the work, and as much as you can bear, or hear, in the context of your readership. But perhaps that is the reply of yes implied by Derrida, that when we hear Mollys YES we reply yes again and again. Qui, qui. If that is the case he may be exonerated, but I believe his YES is too complex and is like his messiah unable to affirm because it cannot stop repeating itself. It would have been better then to say a simple NO than to endlessly entangle Joyces ACT in an endless deferral. In the end Derrida turns the YES into a YET. Eventually, yes, yes, but not yet. Not never, just not yet, not now, decision is impossible, too much difference: hesitating at the altar: Yet, I could not say, yet I will not, yet neither nor will, not Yet. Yet I said Yet I will Yet. No one can say YES to that. Say Yes to Yes itself, as Derrida quotes Blanchot in Living On, but not that. Joyce said in the Wake that PATIENCE is the great thing. That means to wait. As you wait repeat to yourself yes I must yes I will yes, I will wait, right now I am waiting, not deferring, not hesitating, not passively waiting but affirming the awaited. In that one may be able to arrive at the hour the bridegroom comes. It is then we may make an exclamation of jubilation, that in the modern world Molly Bloom was the first to make, which now every sports fan makes when their team wins, YES! What was the giving of assent or the making of an affirmation became near the end of the world an act of the expression of joy at the outcome.

Finnegans Wake The end of this book, which really does not end, implies something that is there and not there at the same, a kind of prayer. I have shown the supplicatory aspect of the Yes at the end of Ulysses and now would like to de-monstrate the conclusion of the Wake as the perfection of this prayer. The last lines of the book can be read so many ways. Usually one says the final the is referring to the opening riverrun, to circle things back. I think it does this and something else as well. Joyce proclaims that the keys to are given. He has said Finn, again. He has said Till thous-endsthee. Now I think that this ends thee. The the of the end is to be said not as slack the, definite but open, but precisely THEE. The Keys to. Given! Given to whom, but to THEE. Not a way a lone a last a loved a long abut the, because you are it, I AM IT, we are it, as the auditors of Prospero in the epilogue of Shakespeares final act, his prayer for forgiveness. Given? Key? It is the forgiveness of THEE.

to. then. endsthee. Lps {please} long the [] long thee, he longs but for THEE, to then ends, THEE.

Thou, ends, thee. It ends with us, we are the one for whom and in whom the work arrives and Joyce affirms not one definitely but all infinitely. It is a way of saying YOU and YES at once: the THEE. THEE I said THEE I Will THEE, then you and I are in truth the arrival of the text, that the secret is that it is we who hold the keys, keys of Peter, keys of the see, to forgive, to forgive all good thieves, whom writers to write must be, saying, But softly, thee, remember me, till thou ends thee, that we never ending be, as love does not end, for thee given, never ending, thou art the key, the text is thee (se). The text is these, thees, the signature effect is here comes everybody, and all along HCE was THEE, was all of us, it was written to you and you and you and yes to thee.

Michael Bolerjack

MICHAEL BOLERJACK HEIDEGGER AND LEVINAS

Theses on Levinas 1. Real relation is a real relation with infinity. 2. Which infinity: actual or possible? 3. The infinite intransversable. How do we reach it? How does it reach us? 4. Infinity, not transversable, is indefinitely absent versus eternal presence. 5. Hierarchy of call/response, ways of calling, a hierarchy of how the other affects us, hierarchy of responses, either yes, or ignorance, denial, or the appropriation of the call, to do it for self, not the other. 6. Mediation: real relation, mediated relation, the infinite humbles himself, comes to us, not the height of the other/transcendent but the Eucharist, God in bread, God in man, God mediated, transpassionate. 7. Impossible to experience the infinite, ideal only, not real, but presence is experienced, un-thought, though not unsaid, in se be the said. 8. The sacraments, God with us, Emmanuel, so must we be, changed to him by him, but we cannot be infinite. Otherness became us so we be otherwise. 9. Reality, is the same, one, presence, being, with the parts in the whole, a hierarchy of arrangement, order, not the fragment of the infinite. God is hierarchy with us, not administrations of philosophy. 10. Responsibility is good, supporting the burdens of others, and the moral ethic, but they do not substitute for the meta, rather para to true being, set up another be about the other, far rather, hostage I, but not to the host. destruction, but peace will elevate all, all in all. system, not completing the ring by grace, but through self-circling, only seem to 11. Hierarchy is the only way to peace, not to war, war levels as does

12. EL inverts hierarchy, from s/o to o/s: same/other to other/same. But this inversion is not conversion, which requires loving others as self, as one. 13. It influences me, not me it, nor thou. 14. Not real relation, infinite other, and I, a fixed relation, hest not free. 15. Real relation, friendship, love, persuasion, not command. shape, order, un-fragmented. 16. If the other is a person, he cannot be infinite, because the person has figure17. The unshaped shapes the shape.

18. God can be infinite other, not every other, not tout autre est tout autre. 19. God set aside infinite-transcendent-height, in order to really love. 20. Do not put neighbor in place of God, that is an idol not an icon. 22. Regard construction of last: as yourself. 21. The lord your god is one god: love your neighbor as you love yourself. 23. Not as other, but precisely as the same. 24. You and I, we are the same, but God an other is. 25. To love the other as me is not to see strangeness, not to heighten him in his otherness, but bring the ring of friendship, the ring of love, grace against the and closed by grace. nihilism, a real and an ideal relation, not fixed by the nothing, but at once open 26. As Jesus did. Weep.

27. Even Aristotles metaphysics is founded on love, not love of the infinite, which would be amoral, but of the good, mystical. of arrival. 28. Epekeina tes ousia, Plato said: Good beyond being, point of departure, place 29. Which is to say truth is hierarchy: we know beings, we love the good.

30. Will primary not reason, guards, guides, desires, moves: reason steers but

love, desire makes us go, and is the destination. Reason prevents the wanderer,

but even more faith, by which we travel and in travail. The labor of love.

31. The good beyond being is the end to which being tends, appropriation. 32. Ch: hierarchy, the good, an Idea or Form, for Plato, has no shape for Plotinus, is beyond thought, cannot be, is not rational, an X for thought. whatever is not of faith is sin, is idolized, can be worshipped, as if. 33. But this is not my dear Lord, revealed, but is the god of philosophy, and 34. God is person, God is person as such, not otherness, but is the form of what it means to be able to say I AM, which others cannot say, are not self-same, but are as other itself, ever other even to selves. 35. If God is even infinite, then oddly we are infinite too. otherness itself.

36. Where EL goes is to abject the self abysmally before all others, even 37. Losing analogy, hierarchy, mediation, perspective.

38. The fixed point of reference is God in Christ, not my neighbor, the latter is in relation to the former. As myself, as same. Other becomes me, but not otherness ideally, rather really others loved by me just the same. 39. Neighbors are not strangers, but others are strange, which EL accentuates. 40. There is one economy: being in love. Be loved, beloved, be love, to love you must be, being self, not other, there is but love, there is no other. Absolute asymmetry of the heart, not relative to otherness, there is but one direction to time, to love, and the future of love Therese so taught to be. The other only believing. In love Himself. The truth is not other. A=A. The other is the contradiction, while the truth of contradiction is crossed. To arrive. seems, but we must not seem but be. To love is to be, and in that both mean

Restrictions of Heideggerean Being

LEVINAS ------------(Ought)

NIETZSCHE ---------------(Becoming)

HEIDEGGER/Being

DERRIDA ------------(Seeming)

HOLDERLIN ----------------(Thinking)

SALTED WITH FIRE

I would say that one can perhaps best view my apocalypse or apocalyptic writings through an understanding of the Hegelian dialectic, where at the end of history, at the top of the logical spiral of the Absolute Spirit or SA [Savoir Absolu of Glas by Derrida] is the trinity of art, religion and philosophy. You can read this book and perhaps someday my other, unpublished writings, going back to 1985, and find little if any critical writing on any other subject. However, there is a fourth mode in which I write, a literary style, somewhat poetic and autobiographical, which effracts the circularity of that Hegelian triad and opens the system to its other. The effraction, a term I borrowed from Derrida, is a thing I posit as the I that breaks the matrix of GodChurch-World, and destroys that ring, consigning it to the flames, in what I call an arrival ending both the dialectical confiscation and the deconstructive impasse, also a theme of the later writings of Derrida after his real religious turn in about 1991, who both deferred arrival, famously, yet called on it to come, in a Messianic and increasingly Apocalyptic sense. His steady but as always oblique approach to a prophecy concerning a time that is now occurring has only through the writing of my work in the last two years come to be understood by me as a revelation concerning the Roman rule. The work I have written effracts systems on different levels, not only that of SA and the other totalities of closure that now are attempting the absolute anti-spirit, and of critical, philosophical and theological writing by the personal and poetic I, but in these pages you have finished reading by the synthesis of the literary with the critical due to the form and pressure of the time. In economic terms, and differently from the deconstructionist tenet that it can only be done from within the thing to be deconstructed, I am performing a further break from a radical place in the exteriority where I found God in 1989. It may be that the young man studying at the seminary with me a few years ago in order to become a Roman priest was right, that Gods hands are tied. Often, in the almost eight years since, I have defended the thesis of idealism that God is the absolutely free, but at last wondered to myself a few days ago what if? What if

the young man was right? What if somehow God is not free? What if Rome somehow has practiced the closure on God first of all, by placing certain words of Christ against others, and through the constant call for mercy, cry for mercy, invocation and preaching of mercy, and the doling out of it en masse in the confessional, has in effect made it impossible for God to come again in justice. If He does so He will deny Himself as the merciful, and no longer be God, who cannot deny Himself. It is in the Roman interest, of course, to see the second coming deferred, forever if possible. Perhaps as was thought after the resurrection, Christ was supposed to return at once, but something happened to prevent Him. This may be the meaning of the scenes in Acts where the people in awe of the apostles lay all their money before them, to get near the power of the Spirit of Pentecost, and then those who do not are incredibly struck dead at Peters feet for not giving every bit of money to him. Peter took the money, when he should have said give it to the poor. This is the true simony, not the Magus attempting to buy power, but Simon Peter selling it. The Church went wrong in the very beginning and has been wrong ever since. Power and money. Mammon. So they have tied Gods hands to keep on with their corruption extending now even to the ritual abuse of children on the one hand and of the mass on the other. If this is the case, I asked myself what is to be done? If the power of the keys given to Peter in Matthew to bind and loosen has bound God in Heaven, bound his justice on earth and in heaven, while loosing only a seeming mercy, words of mercy, at least, it seemed to me there could be a way to overcome the power of the keys and, if it is thinkable, to untie Gods hands so that He could act. It is absurd, therefore, so think like Tertullian and believe. If the set of all of the Words of Christ are a closed set, a canon circumscribed, both without by decree, and within by the incessant gloss of fathers and theologians, so that everything is determined, it could be possible to make this closed set overall indeterminate, if a statement could be found that fulfilled the mathematician Gdels theorem that for such a set there will always be a proposition that is either both true and false or the

validity of which cannot be determined from the other propositions in the set. There are things said by Christ that seem to be false, that some hearing Him would not die until they saw Him return in His kingdom, for instance, for the Church is obviously not the Kingdom Come. So, I searched for an inexplicable statement and found it in Mark, where Christ says everyone will be salted with fire. The fathers say this is both hell, on the one hand, and the Holy Spirit, on the other, which is a flat contradiction, and Gregory the Great says of the passage that no one should disturb the peace and unity of the Church, by which I think he sensed some trouble to come based on these words. In fact, the context of salted with fire indicates the fire of hell, but which I think cannot be, for it applies to everyone. One could say that the term fire is equivocal, some to hell and some to the Spirit. If this is the case, it may be the Lord said it in this manner, as he said other things hard to understand in the parables, not to be understood, but this in an absolute sense, in order that the phrase salted with fire is both/and, not either/or, and therefore, according to the logic of contradiction I laid out earlier in the work, the words are true in a sense which the logic of the Church based on Aristotle and Aquinas cannot accept. All of the truth is that truth is both true and false at once, this is the whole, which thus cannot be closed, so the words salted with fire fit the logic of set theory, in that they are both self-contradictory, thank God, and cannot be glossed from other propositions in the Words of Christ. Therefore, all the sets propositions are indeterminate, due to the rules of the closure of the ring set, which provide for the multiplication of the indeterminate term over all the others, making them all indeterminate, the very multiplication the Church has depended on for the internal closure of the set, all being absolutely true backward and forward. If all of the Words of Christ are indeterminate, then those authorizing the power of the keys are, too. They cannot be proved true or false, their truth or falsity is in principle absolutely unknowable, and the Pope cannot use the passage to enforce his power. Therefore, God is free. His hands are no longer tied. We are free to believe His Words or not, as

faith permits, may God increase our faith, and He is no longer bound by the power of the keys once held in error by the Roman Pontiff, but now returned to their rightful owner. O, Christ, come quickly! Theology and the Church, though not Scripture in which all truth is hidden [that dangerous book as a one-time friend called it in most unfriendly terms as he stressed the necessity of earthly existence], are the The God Enclosure that men and women use, if possible, to trap God, because they fear Gods freedom [and their own], a God who made a world where lions rend the flesh of living antelopes, for instance, not to mention human societys evils. It may be that God is completely incomprehensible, despite human reason, so He is not even true. God is not nice, but neither are we, really, though in hypocrisy we would pretend to be. Yet, although this is, willingness to love is the secret by which we live. The willingness to love by which we live implies a willingness to love not only each other but God, foremost, and to believe Him in His promises. The Jews in the wilderness did not believe that the Promised Land was ripe for the taking. They balked and refused. So many times have the people of God refused to enter in. It may be that here at the end of things God gives us once more and one last time the chance to do the right thing. Let us not be those children of the kingdom that the Lord says will not sit with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, instead cast out into the darkness wailing, while many from the east and the west gather in with the patriarchs and the prophets. It may be that the Church need not be destroyed even if prophesied by as diverse sources as Malachy, who envisions only one Pope after Benedict XVI, and the Book of Revelation and Daniel, which I think I have shown, however briefly, must apply to the state of affairs in the Church today. It may be that those currently performing their roles in this passion of the Church do not understand what they are doing or why and do what they do in their own minds and those of others with the best motives. It may be that God, as shown in Numbers, and at other places in scripture, can change his mind. If the Church repents, it can still be saved. I will not lay out a program for how the Church may still save

itself from a judgment that I fear it will incur if it holds to its present course. There are men in the Church who need to think on these things and at the time that is most acceptable, take action. That the fate of perhaps one billion souls rests in the hands of so few is cause not necessarily for terror but for hope. If good men be willing to stop evil, evil cannot win. There are better angels of our natures, and they appeal to us, even now. There is no such thing as fate. All are free, God, man, the Church and history. That Revelation promises the thousand year reign of Christ on earth is a prophecy we should look to. How many alive today in the Catholic Church will walk with the Lord in His Kingdom Come is not known. I believe the time is short until it commences. Let none of us, I pray, be the man to whom God says depart from me, I never knew you. To know the good, to see that it needs to be done, and not to do it, is a sin. To know the truth and not to acknowledge it is to be an accomplice to falsehood. To never walk in the splendid beauties of the New Jerusalem would be the worst tragedy any man could suffer, especially one who was responsible in a special way to be aware. We all work out our salvation with fear and trembling, and even the apostle Paul did not count himself as one who had attained.

Michael Bolerjack

Faith creates being,

that is, acknowledgment turns potency to actuality. We are not real unless we believe. Believe the Lord is in us. It has been said by all who believe that we are created by God. Let it be said also that you are not real unless you believe. If you are in doubt, or turned away from the light of faith, His Face, you only seem to be. As we have learned in our era, though Parmenides showed us long ago, most of the world most of the time is mere semblance. By being in relationship with the real, one becomes real oneself. This relationship is one of faith. Faith is not of this world. The world is now deconstructing. Deconstruction is not nihilism, a philosophy of nothingness, as existentialism was, with its question propadeutic to philosophizing, to be or not to be, the question of suicide in the face of the emptiness at the heart of existence. No, deconstruction is not a philosophy of nothingness, as with Sartre, or of being, as with Heidegger, but of sheer semblance, glamour, the milieu of Nietzsche. The opposition of being and nothingness has been deconstructed and with it faith, which must be in either the fullness or the emptiness of God. There is now only a faithless seeming-to-be, the time of opinion, of interpretation, of perspectives, of a world in which there are no longer not only values of high and long standing, but not even mere facts. There is no actuality. With too much going on, there is no action, but the pose of glamour, the system of artificiality, in which the natural is valued only for its effectiveness as a sales tool. We desire, we attend, we are interested in, that which we love. Which can now only be represented, not presented. There is no present, no presence, only presentations. There is no longer

direct unmediated contact with life. In fact, the mass of men and women are not real. They have simply ceased to exist, though they still seem to. The only way back to being is the act of faith, a will to believe in God, the really real. At the moment you say yes to God you begin to be. Without that you never even were. There are only two ways, the world of reality and the world of opinion. As one once said: do not seem but be. When you believe you come to stand. Only by standing can you understand. Then you arrive. The highest reality transcends both metaphysics and ethics. It is a moral and spiritual reality. To be in relationship with the Spirit is to be real. Everything else is material to be bought or sold. As Christ said, you must be born again, that is, being in the world does not make you real, but being in relationship with God. It has been said that each of us has their own reality. That is true for versions of semblance, of which the number is indefinite. To be definite, to be free, to be real, is to be of one mind, the mind of Christ. Only by keeping Christ in mind can you lose the separate reality of the show and find the one true good and beautiful. It is as Parmenides and Paul said, perfect. We are required then in all seriousness to be perfect, to have the mind of Christ, to be real, to love reality no matter how painful, preferring it to the intoxicants, that is, to be nothing for show. In this world that seems to be impossible. But semblance is in error. The one truth simply is the Lord Jesus Christ. This will never change. The City of God is what Augustine called the real world that I here declare, opposed to the glittering vices of the pagan diabolical city of semblance. Rilke said you must change. I second him and add: You have a choice. You must choose. Choose reality. Faith is the meaning of being. At the mass the priest stated the position of faith: God does the impossible. Now, for reason the impossible by definition cannot be done. Yet, the Church has ever taught, on the basis of the authority of Christ, that for God, and for one who has faith, nothing is impossible. Faith, then, understands more than cool reason comprehends. When Hegel said the real is rational and the rational is real, he attempted to rationalize faiths basic character of higher realization through irrationality, into a system in which the sublation of difference and contradiction as absolute knowledge can be the all in all. Hegel also said the whole is the true, but

others have posited infinities, supplements and traces that exceed the whole, thus exceeding truth. Truth, to be true, would have to include the lie, or seeming-to-be. But this cannot be. They do not change the truth through that displacement. They can, as one has said, deny or ignore the truth, but they cannot change it. Truth to be true cannot be an historical process but is immutable. Human history is a lie, spoken against the truth. The Church is able through faith to have both the truth and all its contradictoriness, by mystery, by the assertion of the dogmas of God as both three and one, of Christ as both God and man, of the death of God on the cross, of a church both sinful and holy, of a sacrament both bread and God, of God both immanent and transcendent, of a human being who was completely free from sin, of a papacy which is infallible, of the good of suffering, and much else. The Church boldly asserts the incomprehensible, things which are not mere paradoxes of the faith, but real contradictions that the logic of Aristotle cannot admit, though he said Heraclitus said such things without really thinking them. I have at various points in the scope of my Transubstantiation said and shown the truth of contradiction without contradicting the truth, yet He was contradicted as prophesied by those who put him to death, even with the cross of human reason. But Truth lives again. Resurrection itself, without which our religion is to be pitied, is perhaps the greatest contradiction, though some say such things as the virgin birth to be. Anyone who clings to reason will find a stone of offense to stumble on in scripture and the churchs teaching. And yet, while asserting the necessity of both faith and reason, the Church presents us with impossibilities to believe. God asks nothing but the impossible. Be perfect. Your faith has saved you, do not sin again. The Church gives us models of perfection in the saints, who by the grace of God did the impossible. It is said the great thing is to dream the impossible dream, and one has said the only thing worth attempting is the impossible. Faith does this. But without Christ we can do nothing. Knowledge will fail, but love will go on. We love each other despite our contradictions. By faith and love we suspend the judgments of reason, transforming even the critical faith by which we are reformed for an ever-greater truth we know by love and not by reason. My life has been one love, no blot it out,

my life has been one chain of contradictions. But they are one and the same. We are presented with something greater than we can understand, but we believe, we love, we obey, and even not despite but because of the contradictions. These of the faith that the Church presents to us are the greatest spur to and test of our faith, and thus our faith is proved. Logic had its scapegoat, the scandal of the contradiction, yet faith has won out. Being doesnt empty faith, but is substantial subsistent faith.

Michael Bolerjack

Search for the Absolute

The relation of Christ and Buddha has for me become the paramount question, that is, how to think of them together. The two come from differing traditions, east and west, and I think very different logics, the Buddhist non-duality, the Christian binary opposition. In Christianity, as descended from the fall in Genesis, everything is based on knowledge of good and evil, and all thinking is based on this duality. Therefore, when one says I and other, or any pair, one must lineup with good and the other with evil, even if the two are neither good nor evil, but because they are paired thus, they become morally culpable or not. All thought, almost, seems to be based on this structure. In recent times Derrida and others have perhaps tried to question or unsettle or rewrite this arrangement. Whether the culture is more at peace now than before 1965 is something you must judge for yourselves. I do not think they have been successful because they did not abandon the structure but doubled it, binding us even more tightly to it, because by opposing it they have strengthened it in force and by complicating it have not made it easier to step out of. The logic in the human mind based on such opposition is a knot one hardly knows where to begin to untie. Of course, there is always the so-called sword to cut the knot, but such force may or may not be effective. It depends on the sword one chooses. That Nietzsche and others applied force is without question, but that freedom is not nearer but further away seems the remains of the deconstructive project, because, I think, it was a death of rather than a love of that forced the issue, and created a circularity rather than a sheer cleavage. The effraction, in fact, Derrida seemed to eliminate, either from inside or outside the circularity, because everything must take place, if it takes place, inside the text. Whereas at one time it was in God that we lived and moved and had our being, now it is in a text. The unleashing of textuality has revived a number of forces or spirits once overcome by Christ and Buddha, and many things are influencing our lives in many ways that

most people are scarcely aware of, or second in a nihilistic way, waiting enthusiastically for the end. These genealogies in the heavens would keep us from the goal, and so, with the death of God having been accomplished, it is necessary for Christians and Buddhists to join together the foundations and not reconstruct what was, but start over, not reinventing but beginning again or being born again. Anything that can be reconstructed can be deconstructed forever, so we must lay aside the notion of structure itself, that is, hierarchy must be jettisoned at whatever level and the emptiness of Buddha beneath the tree and the emptiness of Christ nailed to the tree must be our one goal and our one means of salvation and liberation, our resurrection and enlightenment. Deconstruction did not empty the structure. We must not use the structure against itself, but let go of structure itself. We must not turn ideas against ideality, but let all go, even ourselves, for in letting go of self and other both at once that state known as the not-other may be attained. The dilemma of good and evil has been transposed by deconstruction into that of the same and the other, polarities reversed, doubling the effect of structure, and perverting morality, inverting thought, not letting go of thought. For surely deconstruction cannot be accused of simplicity or of renunciation of intellect, but is rather the hyper-logical, hyper-intellectual basis for our culture today. Of this, let go. Only the fullness and the emptiness are important, not the filling, not the hunger, not the semblance, not desire. The absolute cannot be achieved directly, by force, by striving, but only through a sincere emptiness that is done in faith, in hope, but without an attempt to control the outcome, and with a trust that by letting go of all, me, you, God, we will yet arrive, neither forcing arrival, nor avoiding it, but in losing our way, find it, for when we are lost we may be found, and cannot be found unless we are lost. To find the absolute, we must give up the absolute absolutely, and be absolved of both the problem and of the solution, not questioning, not seeking an answer, the mind neither attached nor non-attached, stopped, emptied of itself, of all opposition, not even opposing itself but simply letting go, release, cease, peace. The mind itself

is not the answer to the problem of delusion, but continues to be trapped in it as long as it is. When the mind ceases to think, it is transformed, neither conformed to the world nor informed by it. This is the substitution, the sudden falling away, attained by emptiness, when absolute emptiness and absolute fullness coincide. Everything else is mere opinion, relative semblance, neither ordinary nor extraordinary. To make the ordinary and extraordinary coincide, the mind to be transformed, the self and the other let go of, all desire to pass away, one may meditate on the cross. This meditation on the cross brings together the themes of Buddha and Christ, the emphasis on suffering and the way to overcome it, which is through emptiness and negation, done either mentally, physically or both. Only by this kind of death can the new life be attained. Buddha arose from under the tree transformed, as Jesus did from the tomb. In each becoming completely empty, each became completely full, and so their pattern is one, and one for us even today. Our real state of emptiness is the truth we hide from and in delusion cover over. We must admit it, accept it. It is the evasion of the truth that is painful, not the truth itself. As long as we try to be full, we will never be. Once we become empty, then we will be full. It is not either/or, not neither/nor, but both together in each other. That is why it is true that in Zen samsara and nirvana are really one, and why Heraclitus said the way up and down is one and the same. The logos, which is also reason, is the mind of Christ, and is the mind of Buddha, and people are of one mind are at peace, in that only by being mindful can we realize this state of being of one mind for everyone. As long as one is good and the other evil, it will not be, but only through love of everyone. Non-judgment, forgiveness, love of enemies are the terms Christ used to leverage our minds toward non-duality. The whole is then asymmetrical, there being no absolute opposite of God, so thus our thinking must become, without absolute oppositions, and by this non-opposition creating a possibility for triangulation through non-mirroring. The mirror stage of the mind implies that human love is always accompanied by hate, and that human mercy is always accompanied by justice, that we

always think in terms of rewards and punishments, and that our freedom always implies slavery. Perhaps the opposable thumb is our techno-logical basis. But the divine mind of Buddha and Christ does not oppose and is not opposed. The divine love does not hate because it does not desire. The divine mercy is absolute because it does not involve any kind of justice or judgment. Only people think that way, and as long as we do, we can not be absolutely loving, free, merciful or happy. Our happiness will always consider, compare, contrast, criticize, covet, rather than be content, complete, catholic, in the sense I mean the word these days, which is to say, a universe of paths, not a universal path, each of us independent, but all mindful of everyone. To realize that no one we meet will be the same as, equal to or less than we, that through this we stand not in relation, or unrelated, but in arrangement, in coordination, in harmony, cooperating, not competing, running for the joy of running, because we fulfill ourselves by so running, is the race to be won. Drops in an infinite sea, none are opposed to another. The things I have spoken of may also be seen in this way: The de/re problem regarding structure in theology is a chimera, because these structures are themselves false as to form and notion. The transubstantiation is almost correct, involving the emptying of substance, with its following replacement by another. In reality, the substance actually is not, and the accidents are only there as a kind of illusion without foundation. Enlightenment is to see through the accidents of being to the level of the place which takes place without anything else taking place or taking its place. In other words, the poet saw through the foam and froth of language to the underlying reality of sheer space, which in the end is not even spatial. The sword of no-mind cuts off even possible placement in this place. Nothing will have taken place. The so-called revaluation of all values, is really their Transvaluation, in a triangulation with their devaluation and revaluation. The de/re is probably the new way of expressing the duality as such, and must be triangulated by the trans which crosses all values, all structures, all substances, all times and places, all selves and all others, with a movement which is not an endless displacement

or a continuous spinning in place, but a conveyance of clairvoyance. It is to see the emptiness itself, which is the truth of faith creates being. The emptiness of faith realizes our divine coincidence, the absolute emptiness and fullness which faith creates, the two angles set aside from the acute angle of semi-seeming which is accidentality. The substance taking place in us and in all is our very emptiness and our very fullness, and is our own identity. They are never apart, and being one is being the other, at once. The extremes coincide. All else between them is the semblance we must overcome by seeing through our illusions, not using them, or letting them use us. The delusion of magic is just this life that seems to control so much, and give us so much control, but which prevents or hinders the realization of truth which is peace in the heart, the compassion for those who suffer delusion. The greater part of the delusion is that those who suffer it do not realize their own suffering, and rather fear the emptiness that is their true peace, true love, true selves. Almost all philosophies and religions mean to teach reality and the way to it, but hide reality and the way there. Christ and Buddha denied themselves, saying no, took up the problem of suffering as task, saying yes, and breached trails for us to follow, both of mankinds greatest teachers showing us a way to really be peace, love and understanding, through acts of emptying, fulfillment and arrival.

Michael Bolerjack

Michael Bolerjack An Icon for the Church on the Mercy of God

 2012 Michael Bolerjack

For MARINELA We kept making love as the house burned down MB

An Icon for the Church on the Mercy of God

You be like you ever, my beautiful one, my beloved, my Sabbath, my peace, my way to break the circle of God and Church and World, icon makers not iconoclasts, not idol worshippers, but in the twilight of the idols at high noon, in the midst of an error, we stood single, you and I, and did break it, did break the text, did step back, not out of the word, but out of all implication, by the prayer of the supplicate, the tare torn, debt cancelled, the call of tessera, pieces of a sweet life we loved it crazy, but not so: we did but live it. You were ripe and I was ready and we arrived, later. We heard our callings and we responded, choose us Lord, yes be taken. O my peace, yet you could not rest, and looked beyond, while I, a solitaire, a promontory, looked at you and saw the sadness of late tales, of tombs, of toil, of the undone. You were the passage, not the goal of it, and I passed through you, like the poet said, and I saw through you, not with you, and did arrive beside you, not as if to be. The icons came down, so that one could be built, strange, I did not know. I did not destroy them, but despite the theory of contradiction, when the thing denied itself, I denied it too. An icon now is, and you in it, and others too, if they will break the deadlock, and allow in their gratuity a freedom to God, to affirm all. Effracting God-Church-World, a system made on the bones of the infinite, by limit stand, ever, and be like you, come the Sabbath. I speak to you and to the world and to God all at the same time, and so make no sense to anyone, I ever the incomprehensible. And yes, not yet, even you, you did not understand, and the world I contradicted must not understand, or else I was wrong, but as long as God alone understands, the icon was not in vain, and I did not falter, pulled down vanity in myself first of all, and put back more than I took. God gave all, all must be returned. I give you all, for all of you.

At Harvest Time

I lay down my weary tune beside you sleeping As you stirred and turned and almost not quite Opened your eyes and almost not quite heard Me whisper: I finished, I finished. By the banks of Marinela, by the sound of many Sleeping, I did not hang up my heart, but sang it.

In memory of a forgotten Pope That God can thunder, And that God can whisper, That God can speak as a friend, Or as a stern Father, But that the beatific vision Is not so much the vision of God, That we see Him, But that He sees us, Always and everywhere, We may draw the deduction That we must go and do likewise, Which means not in reciprocity As one might think, With God or with each other, But speak to myself, View myself, As God does, And care.

All Souls Day My Lord, I would sing Thee, Of Your grace I would sing, Of mercy and love and kindness, And of the chastisement that Heals after correction. Of Thee I sing. Corrected, completed, Of Thee I sing. My Love, My Life, Yes, I did sing Thee. There was be-bop and hip-hop, And rock and soul between, And country and blues and gospel, All along the way, And many who sang, And many who knew not the words, Without sometimes a tune at all, Yet in the end You were sung, By one and all, Even when we knew it not. And amazing to me, Was the grace I found, Not only, that while I sang of Thee, yet, Lord, yes, You sang me.

Moral Epilogue It is better to feel a desolation than a false consolation, but to receive true consolation is the mercy and grace of God.

Remains: The Perfect Number God Alone Is Good. God Alone Is. God Alone. God.

Fame of the Frame We became en-framed by an other writtenness, but in the tradition of the same, we became the frame-breakers. This witness of the time of the King, was not counterfeited, But counter-fitted, to join, to unite, to marry, to one. If we suffer into truth, and if this frame is the cadaver of France, Then over graves and over men and over lords we triumphed. It is not the value for life which decides, nor death instincts, But love alone, the body of God, what matters, His form. The gibberish and jibbers of the solicitation of delights remind Me of the conversion of Odilon Redon and his signatures, Which dispersed darkness into light, and scattered light into My darkness, so that at the point of no return, I turned. Therefore, gold, yet silver, and every precious stone throne, Cannot take the place of the dear little ones growing in you; Words and things do not suffice, and we fall back on feeling, And guess our way to freedoms opening, gracious and given.

Nietzschean The more we masked ourselves, the less we mastered, and enslaved, Became an indefinable role, The ones given lines To stand in, not for Recitation.

Brother Jacques His: Entombing, Engraving, Enframing Enflaming: Derrida did not die in vain, For I remain: In session.

The Difference Between Judgment and Criticism If we will stand, Well stand corrected.

Recovery They asked my father, then, if your son kills, will you cover for him? And my Father replied, not only cover, but recover, I for him. Therefore, love is my alibi.

Critique Epicriticism was not the separation of sheep from goats Among the writers, But the discernment of the touch of truth In the feel of words and the heat of intent.

PM Meta and Para made a map Of all we could have been, But for the territory.

The Seer Little things to say, Little time to say them, No great thing left undone.

Thrown That, nothing will have taken place but the place (itself) is the good of the tomb that fell to Derrida.

Noble Truths That, things fall apart is Gravitys Law, not mine, for I have sakes yet, and suns to come.

The Path Realization is, then, to make real? No. It is to be made real. So, You cannot realize yourself. If you realize that, You may yet be realized.

Liturgicam Authenticam Kings kept keys, Keepers kindly kept, Keeping-in and Keeping-out, While Peter yet recoiled. Where are you going? he still asked. To take your place, God still replied.

Bunches Views and reviews, visions and revisions, And all you did for me: Flowers, for the asking never entered my mind.

Therese A thousand violins, No thing left to say: Music in our minds, Hearts I hear today.

Abstract French He said, And therefore there was one flower left unseen, One flower yet to see, That can never be seen By any eye Which still remains, The still, Lifes abstract Florid bouquet, Which was not, Is not, Will never have been, But ideally, Which was your reality and the nothingness, Which yet said yes to thee.

Starred Perhaps, A constellation, A scattered pattern, Of lights and sighs, A million-million miles away, Perceived they say by our deception, Yet revealed at night, Alone, Without celebrity, In utter clarity, Higher than known, Gods poetic utterance, A throwing and a throne Shone.

Roman Holiday God gives us saints And they give us Him. In the catholic economy, Institutes rise and fall, Rates fluctuate, And coin becomes debased, Yet His light reign Gives us increase, As Himself bestowed.

Scripture Words and blows, Less even lines, Cried utterance To the uttermost, Deliberation Liberating, Delimitation Known.

Confessors Deconstruction dispelled The incantatory escheatment of the Versus, like: In Freuds lingered error, Where it was, there I shall be: Where it was, where will I be? But to get to God, Alone. It mattered. Did we think the act a stolen show? Did we think it but a pair of dice thrown? Back, back, back! Our witness was a whiteness, Testified, Fired, smoked, ashed, Cinders sent. Yes! Taints unsecreted, Religion did not become us, But the tomb.

Gift of Knowledge Love of God and love for neighbor. Life and all we meant. To do, to be, to have, to make, Was still but to be lent.

Kid Boiled in his mothers milk, Broiled by his fathers sun, The child took arms against. Never, never, never: Go back again. Sisters resume, consume, exhume, exhale. Brothers beheld, belied. Be: trails, happy trials, be: Let be: Yes, yet, still we will be: Silence was not the rest, Nor yet the play, But the thing that works Between.

The Virgin Martyrs

To do more than one can do Is a flat contradiction, So it must not be I that did. While you smoke the cigarette, The cigarette smokes you, Almost not without a fire. Joan of Arc amid her voices, Telling her what to do; yet It was Joan, Joan, ever Joaned, Ever sainted, ever crowned, Every girl who ever was, A virgin to her wedded day.

Peace

God did not start, God did not cease, Yet the work is done. Ye bastards: Save it for your wives. Rough bests the worst, And to sea would I ride. I have not yet begun, I have already done, For God in me still hides. The birds will sing, The night will chant, As you and I abide.

Oppositions

The opposite of illumination Is not darkness But opinion. The opposite of enlightenment Is not ignorance But insincerity. The opposite of the good Is not evil But hypocrisy. The opposite of being Is not nothingness But seeming-to-be. The opposite of the finite Is not the infinite But the indeterminate. The opposite of theism Is not atheism But money. The opposite of life Is not death But sleep. Be or not be. Do not seem to be. Because of the triangularity Of existence, the way is not clear. Lost in the delusion, We see neither light nor dark. Desire is delusion, Delusion desires itself. All self-direction, All other-direction, Is polarized, misses the mark. Yet, one must shoot.

Flores de Monterrey Once I said, I knew not why, Petals to dirt, Stem to sky.

Pi Critic is Me

We, wilderness-wed, wail-rode, form-finding, neither deferred nor deterred, denying death, and dying to desire, a way kings realized, along aside a brides productionshe, all innocence, all absolutes, all wise, in relativity, he but blinded in the still blessing, allowing consciences benediction, she altogether really real and he but idealized, in the nihilistics, came the ring of grace, came death knells and kneeling at altars, given temptation, given grace, the mystery not known yet not to be denied, under the procession of the triumph of life, became the precession, the return, the shift of an axis or axle, bedded, abetted, but we connected, all in the whirl of turnings time, that is, of times stand still, still standing as the time arrived.

A LIMIT ON INFINITY MICHAEL BOLERJACK

 2012 Michael Bolerjack

The recuperation, the recoup, the dice thrown, the paradisiacal, the tree and the lifes He: Yes, that the logic of the impossible required that the thought of the impossible became the impossibility of thought, and he said the impossible was the only thing worth attempting, and nevertheless, in this therefore, this OR, this symbol or siglum, this turning point, this gold, was conversion, his and mine, in extremity, and that though I had seen did not yet believe, and inclined still toward the abyss, yet He saved me, and having said He would I did believe and came to be, conscience created, not by a smithy, not to be the conscience of my race, but to set out for a far country, that my race, a more meta- than marathon, to parry para- and carry on, toward Cecilias day and further, past deaths and rebirths and arrivals yet to come, looking back I found a fascist regime where none knew, and that the rapture has already happened, it is impossible, that the smoke of six million Jews in the Holocaust was the rapture, with their graves in the air, todesfugue, and Celan was not wrong, but crushed between mighty opposites, though he no baser nature, but he was it, the man, as each of us is, and it is the whole man who is the baser nature, as Hamlet knew, and we but caught between, and some knowing and some unknowing, and some knowing but uncaring, or inclining deliberately toward the abyss, on the horns of the dilemma, choose not the lesser of two evils, as the Church has always already done in practice, despite her theory, but break out of the vices, for God shows a way, and that is up, the dial pointing up, the indicator the direction the north of the future as Celan said, the Joycean gnomon, and the remainder, let that be, but you go on up, and only half make it, maybe, on Kilimanjaro, but let us incline to the half that will, and despising the shame, look at the man at the altar, whomever he may be and realize that in Luke, after the words of the institution of the meal, Christ plainly says that the hand of the one who will betray Him is on the table, and

therefore, every time a priest says the words of institution, his hand on the table betrays the words he speaks, but fulfills the prophetic word of Christ, whose word is eternal, since He is the eternal word, and His words will never pass away, and the standing now, the eternal truth always applies everywhere to everybody, as the Church says of her faith, and so the church then is the Church now, as Christ is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow, for ever, his opponents are ever the same, the type ever the same, only so much the worse for all we know of them, how many murders in His name which he let take place, yet nothing will have taken place but the place, when a pair of dice thrown, with a chance of turning, with a chance of forgiveness, but the Lord says at the end very succinctly, It Has Already Happened, and meant it then, and even more now, and six sides, the cubic anti-Christ, the indeterminacy of things and meaning belies the truth which is certain faith, and in the details is the devil, but in the premium mobile, at the outer limit, the first moved thing this PM, postmodern, the pontifex maximus is the title of a pagan priest who became the Pope, God help him, and in their titles, in their reach, in the tiara, kings ruled, kings slew, and in the time between noon and midnight, or the hour of great mercy at which Christ died and the hour or minute just before Igitur, in those closing dusks of days, popes ruled and popes slew, and were slain, but one was not, but said in his first lie, be not afraid! When we should have been on guard, when we should have paid more attention, and cared that men were being silenced and persecuted for heresy by the anti-Christ, who could not allow dissent, disagreement, and this not a personal quirk of his, some trait, but strategic, to trap all the Catholics, who would love him so much and nearly worship a mere man, and who claimed it was Mary who saved him, to cloak and hide the plot, and all of them going back to 1854 to cloak and hide the snare and wickedness, to pervert our love for Mary and use her against, what greater evil than this I know not, but that the sacraments made void, because the thing does not work itself,

ex opere operato, but must be done with the intention of the Church, and where Peter is there is the Church, so if the man be not in communion with God, but in more unholy communion, what is to be done? So that therefore like deconstruction inwardly the Church was vacated Vatican dead at the top, de-capitalized already by the abyss of lie two sides Blanchot said, and that I had to leap, like Heidegger said, step back, and that I did, by the grace and mercy of God, and taking a long step back, did prepare the great leap forward, not of faith but by faith, to leap over the apocalypse, but how? To arrive and leap over the end of things, but how? And not like Macbeth standing on his bank and shoal of time, to see in to the life of things, and have a mind not mine own, oh Christ, re-mind me! Tell me of the things to come, when we will be there, ah, already there, the eschaton realized, as John and John and John my late friend said, fading on the dying horn, how we walked amid the ruins of shepherds and richmonds on a hot afternoon, though the battle was just as real as the battle of Britain, and death was near, I saw it in your face, but not yet in your eyes, you fading, John, John, John, oh the baptist! That I was too baptized by a priest in a Catholic Church just a mile away, and perhaps was written in the book of life, though works will tell, and so Hamlet had to perform, was that not it, after all, that the play was the thing, and the actor unable to act, has yet to perform, but though the rest be silence, and silence the work of fire, apotheosis, the funeral pyre, phoenix, rare bird, we did not fail like Falstaff, but fell with Hamlet, who said get ready, who said seas change, who said it is not near my conscience, and yet it were too curious to consider it so, I have traced the dust of Ash Wednesday back to Adam and forward to, fare forward, well, do not your alms or prayers in public but in secret, where your father who sees in secret can give you the reward, for insincerity is the greatest sin, and that hypocrisy, that did un-man the papacy, where would be saints did prophesy the death of popes, may your days be as the years of Christ, she said to John Paul I, and I did not know, though some

day we will all know just how and why he died, but that it might have been the cover-up, follow the money, and scandals appear and are hushed up just as quickly, and if we are to do it for the Church, and I think we are, if we have concern for the Church, and I think we should, it is for the souls of Catholics that we should fight, and the destruction of the hierarchy was like a neutron bomb of the faith, which destroyed not things but the thing-in-itself, despite the feigning and fawning and the abyss of power, the power of the abyss, which they had chosen, to hold sway, while claiming to be but mere servants, and the thousand years came and went, the First Reich of the Roman Empire, and a thousand years came and went like a watch in the night, the Second Reich, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Third Reich was defeated by liberal democracy enlightened enough to fight for freedom, but that the pretension of the Fourth Reich coming is almost here, en-framed by Heideggers fourfold, and Deriders semi-Pythagorean hypothesis of numbers, always squaring things, framing things, and we not knowing why, other than the bothand-neo-nor, which is the logic of the impossible, but writing, the text, became the net, and everything had to be done in the virtual space, so that time too would be but virtual, and oh, there hands were on the table, the whole wine, to sacrifice our daily bread, but the cup of her abominations, drink it not, that wine of astonishment, when a pair of dice, the shipwreck, the depths, may yet a constellation appear, all thought utters, all thought emits and admits risk, not chance, but a chance taken, to take the chance, to roll the dice, is not to either affirm or annul possibility, but to take action, so that the impossible became impossible, and the possible became possible once again, a limit on infinity, the eternal line, however zigzag which the dies falling took, did not go to the tomb did not fall to death in the abyss where nothing is, but since he could not say it plumb straight out, the double session of our lives is almost over and if he would hasten you to death, yet I would haste to love, and all was not between, we were not in the

middle as they claimed, to lull us to sleep with siren songs of literature, but in dialectical truth, which is the book, the name, the word and the sign, of glory, cannot not be, we were indeed very near the end, belated, related, in the struggle between death and love, and every time we took our places and rolled the dice one more time at the throne of our marriage, in the bed we read, we lay in love, and fought death to make love, though the house was burning, though the house was falling down, and even though we be buried in the debris, we would not cease from loving, oh, You and I! It was a Marinelability to learn my harmony, and justice that brought us love to symbolically defeat and therefore e-really, the time when all was veiled and unveiled simultaneously, all knowledge admits dice thrown, but the seat he sat on, knowledge better not to have had, and their bones under the altar, rather than their souls and relics bought and sold, and saints carved into pieces as if grace was wealth, as if the truth could still be rightly divided, as if, the poet said, as if, and the philosophy of as if we became and became what we beheld, so look away for union, gaze not on the spectacle, but listen, happy love, listen to the music of nature even pent-up in the city, as one would standing on a sea of mist mountainside see in the midst of the soul of the scene hear in the song of a gathering of birds more truth more beauty, still, be still, hear something real, as I have, morning and evening, in the days of my waking, but beautiful, the good God smiled on me, and praying did say me, as I said Him, so that the artist become an actor, you too could be said, despite, yes, and yet, for thee, for you, for you, I came for you, not in the night, not yet, not quite, but just at twilight, of idols, of ideals, and therefore of reality, in the nihilistic throng without a throne, and thrown into being, did implore and receive Grace, that the ring might be complete, for what would be His wedding without such a ring? A gift to Him who gave me to me, I stood beside the groom holding the ring, and oh, saw the bride, not bare, but bedecked and new Jerusalems she did shine, Virgin bride, had left all for Him who

stood beside me, she meta-, she mystic, she moral and more, and I having known para-, had become a friend of the groom, and a wedding guest, at the marriage of the Bride and the Lamb slain since the foundation of the world, which scholars do not know having voided all scripture of prophecy, but still His words ring true, and must be applied now, not then, and the Spirit will tell you things to come, and you cannot serve both God and money, and two did tell them, yet they would not believe, and just who is this Son of Man? Aye, that is the question he puts to one and all, that all may judge, discern, believe, hope and love, to really know the time, the day, the hour, He says he is like a thief, but a good thief, and he will take us away from the world, still separating out, wheat from tares, good from evil, as the world plummets into the abyss like in the wake of it, and we rise and shine with the resurrection, and today we shall be with Him in paradise, if you throw in with him, and not throw yourself away on the world, which is but a symbol, which, divided in two, the session double, mirrored, did like a lovely pool of broken water re-unite around Him, did gather at the throne, did placidly and with benedictions did more so unify and that than the universal church which was a broad and dangerous highway on which many walked, while he said the path was strict and hard to find, and that the children of the kingdom were thus always already to be thrown, to not sit with the elders at the throne, but having gambled for his vesture did proudly wear it, though he had never bestowed it, the pallium they claimed, the place vacated by the building of the palace, a tomb of faith, not the mountain of moral beauty, but the Book ever said it was Rome, and Rome it was ever to be, the eternal city, it had to be you, and it could not have been under auspices of Caesar, but under bridges of fathers, the ire of sires, it is today you are that city, and yet a little while, you will be destroyed, one might say, not literally but literarily, if that be possible, in that you are void of meaning, except what the Word of God says of you, which you may have known, but did avoid, and pious,

condemned reform, and forced our consciences rather than relinquish what you had stolen, and though you had the keys, the keys mark His word, did not un-lock, did not let in, oh my God, they have made your house a den of thieves and your Zeal does consume me, as all must say together, What Would Jesus Do? Indeed, do what he did, drive them out, re-form the old, tear it down to the ground, and prepare for the homeward journey, somewhere way over Jordan, over yonder, Ive been told, not tolled, but storied in, not a fiction less, but in truth did write no novel, nothing new, He said It Has Already Happened, because the mark of the beast was confirmed so that the economy of simony could go on, buying and selling grace, as they said, His hands are tied, are they not? Yet He did cut that knot with the Word of Truth, that complex catholic contradiction He did hit with a rock, and then use its own sword against it, like how many times, Lord did they love the better places at the feast, and how many times Lord did they pay lip service to the humility of Christ yet claimed to be without even the possibility of error? Napoleon did come thinking he without error, and Hitler did as well, along with popes that actually infallibly asserted the death of love and the love of wealth and power and now on the cusp of things we peer toward the next anti-Christ in this very late PM postmodern post-mortem, all the time they said one thing and did another, but which is abomination to God, and did not think like the Lord, and did not have the Mind of Christ, because they knew the truth and spoke oft of fine and living things, yet all the time behind the screen working to destroy our faith, but which if it be not in Christ will be destroyed, and holding not onto their Tradition-traitors, we Word in, we with meaning would be worded in, we scriptured, not historical but prophetic, not without pun, they did forsake prophets for profits, and outlawed prophecy even, and said none can arise, for God has spoken, but the Word will always be spoken and the Spirit leads you where He will, away, at least, at last alone with Christ be loved, let Him be loved without any

intermediary who usurps the place and vacates it, but that always His star does shine, past deconstruction of truth, and the dialectic of the day, past catholic love and catholic death, a faith abides amidst a crossing, paradise throne, for He chose it, as they unwittingly did, and hope and love as strong as death, which cannot hold Him or you or me, for were not bound, were free, the true city of the Bride, in Jerusalem we shall be, when we will be freed: Yes, His Word still cuts the complexities of the current complicity, for the crisis of the contemporaneity of the meaning of the mercy of Christ.

Keys of the Abyss Michael Bolerjack

 2012 Michael Bolerjack

Dissemination and the Abyss

Then the theory of imagination depends on the (differential) confrontation of two opposing forces, that can be termed Dissemination and The Abyss: Where do I get these terms and what do they mean? I originally encountered them in my reading of Jacques Derrida in 1985-86: Of course, one of his key early works (of the canon of the first twelve) is La Dissemination: while use of the term abyss is ubiquitous in the early works: to disseminate is scattering the seed or whatever there is to be scattered, signs or spaces, names, texts, effects, phonic and graphic traces, with or without meaning: construction-deconstructionreconstruction, a hopeless circularity of creation and destruction like Krishna or love and strife, is shown brilliantly in Glas: The disseminative is

Catholic Economy The vocation of writing notes august 24 2007 of writers and writing fiction and non-fiction american novelists cather ellison west bellow educators washington dewey newman the case of william faulkner modern writing all of the above versus postmodern writing derrida pick up work from first book metaphysics in christ word-listen-work vocationcalling-work the word at work in writing writing as listening interpretation the work of god prayer spirit in the world hearers of the word word without meaning there can be no work words need meaning to work de-con play words of love works of love love in service dont play at love meaning of love love of meaning vocation work as calling if a soul had an axe it would be writing work as response to calling the work of listening chop chop elimination of the call by txt elimination of the call by the proliferation of writing if everyone is a writer then no one is a writer if writing is all there is then service service work for all servant of all the service of writing of listening if you have ears to hear then hear definition effacement of voice lack of

conversation lack of conversion endless turnings there is no turn critique of the derridean idea about writing you know them

centrifugal, wandering, as Derrida said in a place in his text that I am no longer able to identify, he does not mean to return to the Father: The Abyss, on the other hand, is centripetal, turning inward, repetitive, perhaps in terms Freud would see in a case study or in the fort-da of Beyond, which is a depth in the psyche, an aspect of madness, as in thought echoes, which is hellish, a room full of mirrors, and as in the heraldic mise en abime the picture repeated in the picture ad infinitum, and so the doubling, as in Glas, or novels of the 19th century or shadows of whatever genesis: Light scatters while darkness gathers: or so it seems in these latter days: life death: and in Derrida not clearly demarcated as in Nature, but more than deeply interfused, juxtaposed in the great contamination, the complicated relation of deconstruction and what is the turn of events in the coming deconsecration: These figures which introduced themselves to me in the 1980s were to me Romantic: Or so it seemed then to the man I was:

case of rousseau from education from novel from de renovation of writing hear say yes joyce to be read case of joyce calling who calls how do I respond call of the prophet samuel here I am lord writing in vocation vocal speech writing is a response to the word heard and understood god church world I for vocation of writing second sheet 8-24-07 hierarchy and classical writing logic dialectic rhetoric grammar became eliminate dialectic logic rhetoric play of language how is this collapsed to just language elimination of the subject no one to speak write elimination of the theme leaves language itself and nothing besides hierarchy of language signified signifier parole langue expressive indicative exp is aa indicative sig sig significant by every thing being a sign nothing has meaning la parole souffl where is the

difference the contrast bellow gainer la parole souffl by inflation parole eliminating leaving pure so called language play grafted into language all lang is rhet only rhet no logic wo logic rhetoric lang collapse into one point for hierarchy when 3 rd is eliminated the other 2 automatically de derridas love for pure language is it lang or parole parole is never pure collapse spiritual meaning

This therefore will have been a signature

The necessity of such a beginning will I hope become clear: It is an appropriation of Derrida, and remarks the epic time of the beginning, starting in the middle of things like the Odyssey or the Iliad, or as in the Romantic epics of Blake and Wordsworth: Media Res: For like the state of things in Paradise Lost, too, we are falling, as Joyce says in the epic Wake, 32 ft ps ps, and are in the middle of things, as it may seem, as we have been told, though our place on the timeline is only necessarily middling, if the origin is immemorial and the end by commodious vicus cannot be, river run: The signatures, here already and to come, are keys to the disseminative, neither theory nor practice nor effect nor chance nor real nor ideal, a binding and loosing for which the signatures hold the key not the authority of

material sign eliminate spirit leave only sign only langue can be pure a language unspoken the possibility is pure but he said anything but purity I repeat the structure of the raw and the cooked the basis in these very pp sp elimination of subject leaves only predicates no substance only accidents no essence elimination of substantive leaves being appearance as in the history of an error which led not to truth but only more error after 1888 the verso of sheet two 8-24-07 if all meaning as such is displaced then words can mean whatever you want if

nothing is true everything is permitted truth eliminated no truth no lie only words wo meaning sign of the times time of the signs in order to affirm everything when everything and nothing are the same eliminate difference between yes no no no yes yes no yes no being but appearance adhering to the absolute everything nothing sign is appearance to the absolute txt we are signs in the world txt but then not even that ciphers what is left over what do we call the remainder play writing trace chance spacing think about excerpt resource of writing and eternity works of mercy spiritual and corporeal and justice corporal and capital la

the see of peter or the hierarchical structure built around it, and I quote Derrida more or less, repeating the first line of Dissemination:

This (therefore) will not have been a book

My text mirrors his: and between the mirror and the scattering of the light of the lamp unto my feet of the wisdom of God, I then have approached the thesis of the 1986 essay on Romantic poetry: We have then a thesis: a description [let us say almost barely invocation] of two textual effects from Derridean theory, those of dissemination and the mise en abime, as they figure in the work of the English Romantic Poets: thus this text now repeats, mirrors my earlier text, though I cannot help wandering a bit, and this being I think a fragmentation or element of it, to combine scattering and repetition, to at once close and open, for closure, what may be seen as The God Enclosure, is a problem building for years and now disclosed here:

parole souffl parody of inflation inspiration breath spirit psyche rising falling on parole justice god church world I here in the raw you see the cooked side by side going back and forth but you will never necessarily on one mad instant of decision read them simul at once in one time for you find the raw and have pleasure the cooked takes time in joy what reams now for you a genet yes yet reminds the hegel ss let be rest is fire remain first p of next work 8-24-07 against wittgenstein tractatus and quine I say relationship is is an ontology bode body of christ for metaphysics in christ meaning still is it is this relationship of the head and members raw cooked hegel genet body of christ christ fixed point of reference gives meaning to all in relation to and on the great and terrible day of YHWH in relation to that final fixing this gift is real is not as existing merely symbol and can be perceived through acts of charity see how they love one another or not word listen work vocation to christ metaphysics of christ words work aristotles on work the logos the energeia meaning words words words language retrieval of work work and meaning significance of work definitions work of reality and reality of work play is fantasy necessity and fantasy addictions play addiction sober work relation of creativity to play and work fruitfulness my father was thoughtful god church world I sheet aug 25 vocation of writing continuation of previous night on hierarchy the deconstruction of hierarchy we know that it is the third term that structures the hierarchy as such if there are only 2 the automatic de-con is inevitable they collapse into 1 grafted onto each other in a parody of the aufhenbung it is not a synthesis of the 2 whatever spiritual elements of the right or top whatever recto is eliminated that which was related to the 3 rd proper spiritual term allowing circulation only by restriction can economies function well not through general consumption de-con means elimination of spirit mind idea ideal the form the structure logic logos geist to be replaced by ghosts by simulacra twilights the marginal by an indefinite neither definite nor

infinite witness a difference between the infinite in levinas and the indefinite in derrida the definite dogmatic the speculative infinite and the skeptical indefinite so without the holy spirit the father-son relationship is leveled into one indefinite pantheism as trinitarian thinking is necessary to maintain hierarchy and the spirit in the world derrida heidegger nietzsche did not come so much to deny or ignore god but to re-write him to re-invent him but the fourth term beyond god church world paradigmatics that is what perfects genesis or telos the godhead or the great and terrible day of YHWH completes the hierarchy by reverential referencing absolute exteriority the limit opening to true containment against the leveling bad closure with three there can be a 4th but with two there is then 1 and then nothing there is affirmative hesitation between the 3rd and the 4th but the radical decision is between duality and nonduality which Christians seem to know in part but cling to the nihilistic path rather than ascend, for the 3 requires that I become truly I to complete and perfect god church world by effracting it and unless I arrive no one can there is only the system at point balance which tends back down toward hell but which the I can free for the heaven the computers are wrong there is essentially no difference between the 1 and the 0 as Rothko paintings could not hold the form but collapsed to hell and in languages logic rhetoric grammar or dialectic style language collapse by the elimination of logic a perversion of phenomenological bracketing merging style-language purifying the language by eliminating logic-meaning difference does not begin with 2 but with 3 not between but among difference is not just spiritual but is the spirit articulating the joints holding apart and together at once differences as derrida said in his presentation on differAnce the material rewriting of spirituality part of the re-invention of the whole not done to deprive us of god but in order to place god out of the reach by deconstruction of those bent on deconsecration back of sheet vocation of writing aug 25

2007 the terrorist attack on the wtc in nyc 9-11 was the visible sign of the post-modern de-con leveling of structure and of babylon by the book terrorism against capitalism us west christians and dialectical hierarchical thinking the leveling of the wtc is the most important spectacle of the era the great perception consumed by everyone everywhere the leveling of our minds occurs silently and is not perceived directly the effects wtc internet globalization totality totalization types of terror also simulacra denial the virtual reality online with one world we will have none there must be three in fact we are at the complete 4 if the relation to come is peace not war page for metaphysics in christ aug 25 2007 god angels man nature the 4 aquinas the angelic doctor the elimination of god and angels leaves man and nature which is leveled not into a humanized creation but the natural man rousseau and the natural standpoint quine god angels man nature god acts on people still through angels but there is only one mediator from us to god christ fifth term hypostatic union pointing up denial of christ god-man and development of angelic hierarchy is gnostic back of sheet on metaphysics in christ aug 25 2007 degrees 4 out of the 4 one comes christ fifth gnomon pointing up pointing way out off square see joyce dubliners theory first page paralysis simony gnomon christianity islam capitalism communism accordingly none of these can be the 1 as in god angels men nature what wd the fifth be religion religion economy economy a union of religion and economy a theological economics either genuine or spurious capital catholicity which may be being feigned through social doctrine to deceive some and cover the tracks of what is already happening yet a genuine catholic economy wd be a good thing if not a lie while what will happen with islam and communist east 2 nd sheet of metaphysics in christ aug 25 protestant capitalism transformed into catholic economy the problem of restricted and general economy globalization and globalatinization derrida term derridas idea of the capital

economy with rome was a correct intuition though he did not tout it but feared it because the whole of his career was an oblique but steady confrontation with the papacy with the end in view which the lay faithful of the church know not but is coming how globalatinization occurs is all important from a consumer perceiving protestant capitalism to a creating believing catholic economy that must sacrifice itself even the fifth is a union of the 2 cath cap in christ 2 natures 1 divine being in ce 1 being a matter informed by spirit but having already been turned out of ideal to hypocritic contamination of spirituality by money rather than the purging of dirty money by faith see simony at peters see metamodern hyper consumption chinese position old dialectic or not perhaps already contaminated by fascism capitalism in china mega-modern hybrid future already no longer infinite dialectic of marx but indefinite monster neither one nor the other post-m grafts and juxtaposition not synthetic end of history no opposition marcuse 64 fukayama 91 everyone forced into fascist closure the god enclosure of globaltinization of what would be ce but became the last imposture the ritual abuse now and to come a church opposed to the kingdom of heaven god church world to be effracted by individuals so the kingdom will come aug 25 next sheet subj obj descartes dualism led in nietzsches de-con logic to the collapse 2 always leads to collapse roman sacred clergy and profane laity grace above nature below we go to their keys for grace mercy forgiveness before descartes 3 hierarchy spiritual the failure of modernism but post reaps the whirlwind obj subj collapse into vacant subj idealism or vacant obj realism taste style beauty no longer moral but immoral what proceeds the jective throw who throws doubt equals abyss abyssal logic of deconstruction repetition end aug 25th notes on the somber realization that the theory and practice of catholic economy actually describe two different things or shall we say beasts to come which that is to say you could call these the keys to the abyss

PP

PP: per procurationem, that is, by the agency of, or for the agency of, but of what and for whom do the popes sign their names? The procurator is one who manages anothers affairs, and was an officer of the Roman Empire entrusted with the management of the financial affairs of a province and often having administrative powers as agent of the emperor. So, the pope is the agent of what emperor and of what empire? As well, akin to the procurator is the procuring, often to make available for sex. Which is to say, not beyond the PP or pleasure principle of Freud. In that late work of psychoanalysis, the death instinct came to light, and the need for repetition compulsion, and I think these things can be discerned in the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church. As Plato writes in The Republic, those with training for philosophy can do great good, but if corruption enters in, there is an even greater ability to do harm. The PP is also the postal principle, the logic of the postmodern, as well as the post-mortem. In whose name were these things done, by what authority? At the seminary, as regards theology, they make Popes equal to The Bible itself, and say the magisterium is the one to interpret scripture, but should it not be the other way around? Should not The Bible be used to measure Rome? We return to the antichrist. You will recall that 6x6x6 equals 216, and I said 216 equals B + 16, that is 2 + 16. And that this is Benedict. But looked at again it appears that the 2 is really John Paul II, and the 16 is Benedict XVI. They are the antichrist. One was struck down, but miraculously survived, and the other promotes his agenda. As well, you remember the other work in 666, that it is summed 6+6+6=18, and that is once again JP 2 and Benedict 16 = 18. There is much that could be said of the variant reading of the passage, the 616, which can be deduced from various multiplications and additions. These deductions point back to Pius XII, and the Nazi era. As well, they point back to 1962 and the illfated Vatican Council II. If John Paul II is the beast in some symbolic way, and Benedict the false prophet, what will happen next? It would have to be the en-shrining of the statue or image for worship, and that is the new order of mass to take effect for the liturgical year 2012. In the

catholic economy the entrance is through confirmation, a mark on the hand and the forehead. As well, despite the scripture always read that day, on Ash Wednesday, the Catholics throughout the world will receive a mark on their foreheads. For these reasons I have stopped attending mass. I have not read the new missal, but I have heard of changes in both what the priests say and in how the congregation responds. Concretely, I wonder what the new response to the priests Peace be with you really means. When the churchgoers say And with your spirit in what or to what spirit will they be praying? Men and women have bodies and souls, but spiritual entities like angels have spirits. It seems that there is one Spirit of God, and so Benedict should say that plainly, if that is what he means. I have not in this work made a full-scale exegesis of the Book of Revelation. I think too often those attempts got lost in the trees, and could not grasp the main point in the forest of difficulties that is the symbolic end of the world. I have made a diagnosis about the Church herein, as well as lay out a catholicity in the logic by which the reform of the Church may be thought. What remains? We must not lose our faith, though we have been betrayed. I have written this for the Church, not against it, for the faith of the many, not the approval of the few. I think that in the future the present pope will die and the college of cardinals convene to choose his successor. I believe the cardinals should not select one, but appoint themselves temporary guardians of the Church until a council can be called comprised of all the bishops in the world to decide the future of the Church. The things I have said in this book are a small addition to the massive amount of news regarding the Church in crisis that is available. All I was shown was that the popes of my lifetime were the antichrist, and I was charged with communicating this to you for the good of all. Many outside the Church will not be surprised at the news, especially those fond of Martin Luther, while the readers I want to reach especially, the faithful of the Catholic Church will probably ignore the warning, if they ever hear it. However, if they be like the men of Nineveh, I will be happy, not sad, if the Church is saved and not destroyed. The point in the logic of the work, that God

does not think like we do, is seen in the career of the prophets, who if they were true, were not listened to, except perhaps for Jonah and Nathan and Samuel. The things we are told are too often too hard to bear, and the message of God too much of a challenge to the frail human nature which relies on the traditions of men rather than faith in God. You may think me but a self-styled prophet, so I will let the work speak for itself, and say that numbers do not lie, and that they translate easily to the present day. Therese of Liseux, whom I often invoke, said everything is grace. So, the seeming death-throes of the Church need not be cause for sorrow, if it was the will of God for Rome to be what it has become, a thing hard to understand, but that it was foretold long ago is clear to me, and so we need neither rejoice nor fear but rather realize the signs of the times, as they are sometimes called, and become the light of the world which Christ says we are. The kingdom is within us. Where but two are gathered in His name, there He is in the midst. When the son of man returns will He find faith on earth? He says there will be a remnant who have not knelt to the Baal. It is up to each one of us in the integrity of our consciences, which are not deliberately set against Rome, but which Rome has deliberately set itself against, to decide in the crisis of the Church in the World where God really is and go there. If you can find Him nowhere else, at least He said He will be in you if you believe, and I believe God in His promises, every last one. The antichrist was given a number in The Bible rather than a name not so much to hide him, but to reveal him, because the ultrastructure of numbers endures across all languages, and needs no translation, thus escaping deconstruction. When John Paul II said that the apocalypse of John was about the future history of the world, he told a lie, for it was about that man and his time that it speaks, while he seemed to be encouraging traditional readings of scripture. As Hans Kung said, John Paul II was the most contradictory Pope of modern times. And I have shown that the root of this contradiction is in the mystical evil that has tried since 1945 to gain control of not only the Church but of the ones

who are faithful to it. Without their assent the Roman hypocrisy must cease. Long has Rome been implicated in sin and crime, which can no longer be hidden. The hour of the final battle of good and evil draws near, and with the judgment beginning at the Church, as Peter says in his letter, where does the poor sinner stand? Indeed, with the ground cut out from under the feet of Catholics, and with the world already under the control of an antichristian matrix of forces including Islam, Israel, China and the technological capital of the magical projection of fascism where liberalism once stood, with a kind of Nietzscheanization, as has been said, of all politics, with a criminal intent to corruption on all sides, we are not, as seems, at the door of another dark age in which we must keep our love and knowledge alive in small isolated communities, but rather we stand at the brink of the end of the world. Now, scripture portrays the end in two ways, one a flaming inferno of fiery justice, and another in which the lion lays down with the lamb. This is just one of the many contradictions in The Bible. That the church has always been both sinful and holy, that we are sinners yet saved, that God died for us, that more than half of the popes were never made saints, and almost none since the Reformation, that the Second Vatican Council almost to a man unanimously passed the reform of the liturgy that fifty years later John Paul II and Benedict XVI will undo in the name of a literal translation and true authenticity, opening the door, I think, to some evil that means the invalidation of the mass, that these things were foreseen by the author of Scripture, and are part of Gods plan, who can comprehend? Yet, as Paul had the mind of Christ, so may we, to be not conformed to the world, but transformed by the renewal of our minds. Paul also said that Gods grace was sufficient for him, and so it may be for us. He said woe to me if I do not preach the gospel, so may we, and as John said, blessed are they who read this book and keep it, so may we, for I have added nothing to revelation, nor taken anything away, for I have seen Rome where it says Rome is, and have lived in Babylon, the market of the whore. That the new city of Jerusalem will be our all in all, that God will wipe away every tear, but that the way there is hard and narrow, and few there be that find it, is the awful and awesome truth of our apocalyptic age.

As Christ has said to one in our own time, They are confused, they do not understand about My mercy. Think of the mercy of God as His to possess and dispense, not in the hands of popes or priests and one will be more comforted by grace than by magical terms such as ex opere operato in which the Church teaches that the sacramental catholic economy works itself, without regard to God or man. As if by chanting they can bind the will of God. The power to loose and bind is important, but so are the words in which that power is described. What you bind on earth will be bound in Heaven and what you loose on earth will be loosed in Heaven. What the Church has done does not then apply to her power to forgive, but rather, that instead of binding evil, they have bound Gods hands, and have set loose an unholy thing that will bring an eventual response. There is a correspondence of Heaven and earth, a kind of symbolic action takes place between them, and I think this is what Christ meant in the binding and loosing. His mercy was always to forgive the penitent, so if the priest does as He does, where else would the power lie but in the symbolic way I state, in which the Church binds God and looses what it should not, which any observer of the Church should now see. That God says I will have mercy on whom I will is the truth which we need not fear, for God is merciful, and we should seek Him rather than go to a man and an economy of sacraments that only has the appearance of the grace of God, but is in reality rather like technology, an aspect of ex opere operato, a thing under no ones control, operating as if by magic. It was perhaps the divorce of grace and nature, whether by Platonism or Thomism, the positing of the ideal and the real, that led to an inevitable nihilism. But outside stands the grace of Christ knocking at the door. God will close the ring by His action, not ours. By His will, not ours. By a grace the Church calls prevenient, but which is truly grace as such in its totality, a free gift of Gods. We then are to be blessed. As there is an inculpable atheism and a culpable atheism, as Karl Rahner showed in the 1960s, so there may be a culpable and an inculpable Catholicism, which is not to say catholicity. Any one who becomes

aware of the crimes of the Church, let alone the thing I have had to say in this book about the antichrist, must decide for themselves how to work out their salvation. The decapitation of the Church at Rome is needed, which is done in principle when each member of the Church acts on their own, thinks on their own, and becomes truly the kingdom of priests God says we should be. Would that all Gods people were prophets, but the application of the oil of anointing is not enough, if one receives their vocation but does not keep it, is not true to it, which is to be true to Christ in all situations and to speak out even if it be against those with the power, it seems, to judge you. For in truth there is but One judge, and judgment is reserved to Him alone, so that He may bind what has been loosed and loose what has hitherto been bound. The PP could also be the pages following, or just the papa, of the Pope, and I believe. It has been said unless you believe you will not understand, but I think you must, I must, love and forgive, show no resistance to evil, be perfect, be merciful, be holy, take every thought captive for Christ, say scriptura sola, and so not leave out the text on the Apocatastasis, which was condemned by Justinian and the councils, but say yes to the insight that was proclaimed by Peter at Pentecost of the great promise of the universal restoration, or the all in all, which is a word and a vision of the complete fulfillment, the arrival, no more of war and division and no more condemnation and no more evil, but, PP as a perfect peace, or as Kant said, to eternal peace, for we have been at war, so long now, in the one battle of good and evil, we always the good ones and you always the evil, us and them and I and the Other. But reaching the point of what the east calls non-duality, I neither surrender to evil or resist it any longer, do not condemn it nor the one doing it, but love it, forgive it, claim my error which I reified as an IT or Other, and surrender it to Christ. In truth the Popes were the anti-Christ, I believe, but did not know they were. The CC was profoundly hypocritical, but did not see itself as such. By a method of triangulation the truth is not only reached but preserved. Thus the Trinity. Thus, the God-ChurchWorld, thus all hierarchies must be greater than the dual opposition which is the structure of disease and deconstruction, posited in morals as

good and evil. To reach this triangulation in politics, there must be a center, not simple left and right wings. In history and in religion and philosophy not simply faith and reason or Athens and Jerusalem, but the east, so long excluded, which from our standpoint of dualism seems to be the Other, but which is the thing that perfects and completes and will keep the structure not only from not collapsing into nihilism under the weight of the real and the ideal, but by grace bring the arrival long sought, and allow theory room for practice, the thing the Church didnt. In myself I forgive and love now the Other in me, do not condemn it, and do not illusorily declare a false peace but find true peace within. I must become Christ and Buddha and Socrates, by doing the works they did. You will say I am absurd and this is the impossible itself. Yet, they said it would be so, and told each and every one to do it, to be it, to make peace. Heaven has already begun, it is within us all, as Christ said, as Buddha said. The war was necessary. Peace is not impossible. Shakespeare had his epilogue, spoken by Prospero, and Joyce too made a large epilogue for waking, as the other did to ask forgiveness. The Book does not end with the war, but with the peace in Jerusalem that follows. Good and evil are overcome as the structure of war by the truth that they be not opposed any longer, and that to condemn any-thing is error, and to forgive is divine. We all have been given the power to forgive and to make peace. I love my enemies, all of them, no matter who or what or why. Some knew it, so that now we may love. To perpetual peace, the PP of Kant, and the proxy of the papacy, the pleasure principle, the postal principle, papa, or papaw, patriarchs and prophets, prostitutes and physicians, professors and preachers, the poles of north and south or of the opposition once we thought was irrefragable, to the struggle of good and evil, or of myself and the world, that war, was the illusion of me. In reality I am someone else known only to God. Post-Pontiff catholicism will be like the waking of the dead, the union of things irreconcilable, the arrival of the Messiah in fact not just in principle. For we all let usurpation and usury take sway in Rome and

everywhere else, worshipped a lie, and yet but judged our-selves. I must let go of the desire to be led, of the desire for leaders, of the desire that follows, in order to be free of the desire itself. Sophocles said that we suffer into truth. That is tragedy, but we learn. To know one must suffer, and we all suffer, but not all come to know the truth of suffering, have the experience but miss the meaning, or know it only in theory or by the book but not by direct knowledge, as it is, but lost in words and things, lose the way, which indeed is hard to find. The prize is not for invention, but for discovery. Reinvention, or rediscovery, one must choose their relation to the past, their own and the worlds. Buddha, Jesus, Socrates: did not write, did not work, did not take money for the teachings, did impart truth by word and deed, and did not lie, and did speak of suffering as to how it may be over-come, in different ways, but basically not by obedience but by independence, not by memory but by vision, not by mind but by heart, not in theory but in practice. I have made my work in the age of the triumph of theory which was the nadir of reality, and that formed the work in many ways, a problem to solve. As the alchemist Celan said, solve and coagula, which Robert Yankow too might have said of the forces of truth and tragedy, of magic and suffering, of the great transformation that must take place, whether we will or no, this life or the next, as God chooses. Transcendence means that God is absolutely different, and that he chose for Jesus to be the one to suffer not just as part of an economic exchange in sin and guilt and atonement, but as a sign and symbol of the absolute difference of God and man, which is, and yet which we can not let hinder us from getting to God, by trust. The mercy of God is evident, because I am. Who am I? The one God chose to learn and to be written. What have I learned? That I have written, and will have been written, but that the truth is not in writing, nor in the spaces nor in the differences. That I kept going. That I finished before I died, but in a way had to die and be willing to die in order to finish. That I prayed and was prayed. That I loved and was loved. That I hated and was hated, that I desired whether or not I was desired, that I made and stole, consumed, used, borrowed without repaying, that I was always angry, and thought I

knew what was going on, though I was always ignorant. That I gave this up, because I didnt give up. In the end, in a last desperate move, I told my wife that I was calling in an air strike on my own position. Indeed. It happened. As I explicated the end of the world, my world did end and begin again. She and I, in our vessel of mystery, our apartment on the Richmond Strip, made a great transformation of ourselves, of the work in us and on the pages of the books, and in a way yet known, in the world. It was alchemy in the true sense of the word. I became in a way I cannot show or say the very Christ and Buddha and Socrates, and had to be, not just seem to be, to save myself, my wife, my marriage, my work, and to save the world. Tremendous forces had been unleashed and we were buffeted by a storm, yet made the higher ground, by grace. I became more than moral, more than mystical, more than I can conveniently say, but that I suffered, that she suffered, that I became awake and aware, that she too knew there was something more that she could see in me yet not understand, and that we both had to make peace between us, for us and for all, for Gods sake, and said it was the most important day of our life, but did not shrink back from the work, but gave our all, risked all, became more than we had been, made the passage together, crossed the river, loved and understood, each other, forgot what it meant to the book and to the world and to God even, but said, what do we mean to you and me, and the lives we saved were our own, and lived after we had died, and were born again, and did not violate but fulfill, and did arrive in fact, as we had promised and had hoped, and did not just want to be real but were real, the thing-in-itself, in learned unknowing, and wise simplicity, forgiving my folly, my waste, her concern for money, my obsession with God, our desire to escape each other and the work of destiny, the symbols of handshakes, kisses, a prayer, water, goodbye. And on awaking in our ordinary minds to go on thanking, grateful, now seeing signs that we would make it and had and get to God together. I have related the thing that happened as best I can, and hope whoever you are, wherever, and whenever, that you already know and know it even better than we.

Desperate diseases require drastic cures, and at last I had to love all or lose all, and so I loved. We all know the theory of love, I think, but oh how little we practice love itself and thereby understand and forgive and be the ones that we are meant to be, Jesus, Buddha, all the saints, all the genius of the spirit, the moral, the mystic, the poetic, the music of the seers, the vision of what exceeds words, and through that thing so little preached these days, self-control, the chief fruit of the Spirit that guarantees all love joy peace patience, surrender control to gain control, gain control but to surrender any right to any claim to any desire to, but actually being it, without right claim or desire, being the gift, in discernment, be the narrow path God will have forever been here.

On the following Sunday morning, early in the dark, after a night of study of Christian and Buddhist scriptures, and writers such as Nietzsche, Shakespeare, Eliot, Marx and Engels, I determined in prayer to Jesus that I wanted to keep my faith in Christ and yet still attain enlightenment like the Buddha. I lay on the bed in the cold December night the week before Christmas and meditated. I thought of the void, and I thought of the form. I recalled that in the Preface to this work I had said that in the beginning was an infinite nothingness which contracted creating limit, the eternal, God. I saw in this the relation of the void and form. It is also seen in the gestalt of figure and ground. But the truth is neither of these alone, nor these two together. Neither is it the perception of the distinction between the space and the form. Neither is it ignorance of the void and form. I thought for a moment what this ultimate truth could be and said, it is love. In Buddhism, the point is one of not clinging, non-attachment, and that is the character of human love, to cling, to grasp, to be attached. It is desire, it is greed, it is human love. Christ on the cross showed what divine love is. It is letting go. It is selfemptying. It is not putting sovereignty in question, as Derrida did, nor renunciation of it, but surrender and abandonment, as I said in papers on the arrival in 2006. Gods love is so great that He lets go of everything, at the same in the cruelest of all situations, nailed, in pain, despised, but

praying for his enemies, granting salvation to the good thief, looking out for his mother, before the cry of dereliction at His abandonment by God. And then: It is finished. The veil is torn in two and Gods love is no longer to be doubted. The difference between God and man is shown. As Thomas Aquinas said, Christ suffered out of exceeding charity. The suffering was not for the sake of itself, a penance or austerity, but took place to convince us of the love of God, how completely a love divine lets go of even itself and its own being. The unity of Christ and Buddha was thus seen in the meditation. What Buddha taught is true, and agrees completely with Christ. As well, the Socratic theory of forms is reconciled with the two, and the idea of the relation of the soul and body, which is perhaps one reason for the extremity of the passion. As Socrates said pain and pleasure nail the soul to the body, so the passion showed it is possible to overcome this through love. In the morning, seeing light on my wall, I saw in the light something like the love I had seen the night before, that it is neither space nor form nor cognition nor ignorance. And so too with life itself. Love and light and life transcend the dual nature of thought that makes perception of form and void. In a way, the transubstantiation and the hypostatic union, as taught by the Church, accurately describe the Christ, but also tell the truth of all beings in which God subsists and whom He loves. I kept my faith in Christ, enlightened like Buddha, and Socrates, and so learned the truth, that it is one and all.

The curtain of the unveiling of the apocalypse will be in but the blink of an eye, the simul ringing down of the curtain, as the desolation of the abomination is raised on high to disturb the canonical saints and then in the last act the monstrous logic of the sacrifice, once for all, yet always repeated, again and again, both singular and machine-like, once living once dying forever living forever dying, is suspended by the worst, the suicide, or more suicide of catholicism by the voiding of the rite by the rewriting of the order of the mass, let it be read by each, that we will not

be we, but from union to mere series, from the son and father one in being to the Latinate consubstantial, which will confuse the essence of the transubstantiation, from and also with you, to and with your spirit, which even the bishops cannot explain where and when the priest acquired that spirit, to the changing of the words of institution, the all becoming many, which is misinterpreted by some as the narrowing of salvation, no I speak not of quantity but of the quality, going from the definite to the indefinite, the destabilizing of the core of the mass, and there are other words misplaced and misshapen in syntax, but especially when it changes from a sacrifice of praise to a sacrifice of ourselves for Gods praise, what is this? And so the Roman Church will sacrifice itself come this November, because the beast was wounded and almost died but did live, and the prophet promotes his agenda, his image, the decreed Missal, which indeed will speak or be spoken, and which one must adhere to without dissent to partake of the sacramental economy, a thing spoken for worship, to worship, and Catholics, signed on hands and foreheads with oil in confirmation and again every lent with ashes, as in Revelation, are in the circum-stances I describe, the only way in the world this year that the apocalypse can happen, because nowhere else is there such a conjunction of prophecy with practice. O, Catholicity! O, City of God! So in my interim, before the story that leads to where I now am, I give you the abbreviated word of the end of the world, a warning I could not postpone, but send ahead as fore-runner of the demise of roman insistence. Yet, this may be good news still, both for the church and for the world, especially for the world, because He came for the sinners, not for the salvation of those who are righteous. God does not think like we do, which we cannot understand, with in-comprehensible love that reaches out not just to those of good will, but especially the unjust and unmerciful, so that the judgment that begins at the House of God, may be a warning to the rest of the world. What will happen to the church and the world I do not know, except that in reading both testaments of apocalyptic literature there are passages that are clear and others that are opaque. Scripture scholars and many priests tell you one thing, historical or textual, but I think we should look into matters for ourselves. The hope I hold now is that the end is not really the end, but a

narrow strait to a better world, beginning even here on earth, with a thousand year reign, after the key of the abyss seals the error and evil of our apocalyptic time, to free us for the joy of Christ. The books I have written start in a far different place from the one I dwell in now, morally, intellectually and spiritually. What began as a young attempt at deconstruction before I fell for God in my conversion and began writing from a catholic point of view, goes through many stages, to arrive at the evacuation of the church, but not of faith, which I need even more now, and that in God, not in either the tradition or the revelation, but in the sole authority, which I see at work everywhere around me in what I term the ultrastructure, the articulation of the one life or force that is within and without us all the time, which contains the struggle of good and evil and all that depends upon that difference. One love we say. Yes, yet, we defer and differ, from each other and from ourselves, but you, and I, what are we to Him? Vaster than the star reaches, faster than a ray of light, this flux of which we sometimes become more or less aware, in the coincidence of things, or their adherence, rather than always falling, or if falling, falling faster, but into arms to catch. We need not plummet into the abyss, but He has mercy on whom He chooses, His hands are not tied by the words of men, as the seminarian told me years ago, though magic sometimes seems to work for some. It may be that the present age that began in the period of the second world war, after the publication of Joyces last work, is the ricorso, the chaotic transition to the renewed state of humanity, and that this fourth age of understanding in which we live is but a brief interruption and that the circle will recommence, like the journey through both black hole and worm hole to a better place in another world, or so it seems to me, that is, that scriptures and the writings of the postmodern, Joyce and Derrida, for example, need not cancel out each other, even if contradictory they seem or really are, for this is the era of the contradiction, and perhaps I speak against one thing and then against another and so interdict myself, but here in my world, there is still a we, a new we, not fragmented, but coming together, through technology, through spirituality, through community, through sharing our spaces and our thoughts, though still

clinging to too much and not letting enough go, in order to arrive. They say either joy or pleasure or some such distinction, or Buddha and sentient beings, or Christ and whatever opposes Him, but He said love anyway, even those on the Other side. That is what we are going to be taught and shown, I think, as we suffer together the next few years, but only a short time in order to make our best effort, to learn how to make our best effort, to not fear but to love. Often in a disaster the good in people comes out, and I think some will understand but some will never do so. We, future oriented, feeling belated, hardly present, unable to preserve or persevere, deconstructed, disconnected, over aware and under aware, too informed and under informed, let us say these are the days, really despite appearances, to get it right one more time or one last time, to do the right thing, not just the next thing, and to not let up, not even blink until time expires, and when it is over, then to look up and see if we have won, for none can be sure, in a way, though in a sense we are all standing generally before God right now, and at the turning may all still stand together as the light arrives and be found not guilty for our sins and omissions both because some helped turn the wheel, and because the Lord had mercy we could not buy. The drama in these pages came from an un-dramatic life, mostly lived on the margins of poverty and sanity, though marriage and a late education in a catholic graduate school enabled me to push the work toward the points of reform and renewal it reached last year. I learned to love would sum up the thing that happened to me, and so I look back on the struggle between me and the world, and in my own mind between deconstruction and catholicism as being part of that, but how as one nephew asked do you really know if you are in love? Or, how do you know you really love as one ought? Perhaps we only love as we can, and not as we cannot, and as one man said, in our own peculiar ways, whether that match romantic fantasy or not, who is to say? For Derrida, the precursor, and the curse, love was not a question, not a problem, not something he ever once to my knowledge wrote of, which means by the logic of the un-said that it was the one thing he privileged, the one thing that is greater than even justice, or hospitality, or the other in-deconstructibles. Silence can be ambiguous, or it can be so accurate, as the painter Rothko said. Derridas

silence about love, remarked in the film about him, and in the magazine the American Scholar at the time of his death, is un-like the silence of Heidegger about the Nazis and the Jews, and gives him a moral standing completely without hypocrisy compared to those who preach but do not practice charity in truth. He is said to be against purity, Anything but purity, he said late in life, though he liked pure French, and so much of what he did, all, was for contamination, written corruption in a way, tainted tains, one might say, and truly reflected the situation in the world, but all the time, like the religion he hid and finally revealed, as Caputo, a catholic said, there is, or perhaps we dont know for sure, a real ideality, a true love so pure it had to be absolutely concealed, absolutely hidden and never put into play, without sign or signature, un-deconstructed, and neither the impossible nor anything else, but the act of love preserved by silence and the great lacuna is thus explained, and the greatness of deconstruction is not the struggle with technology but the absolute faith in love. My friend told me the lost cause is the only thing worth fighting for, and so it seems to me lately, with the church collapsing under the crush of corruption that is being only now by me seen for what it is, though others for centuries knew the truth. The betrayal is personal, and deeper, for it is by those most counted on, like the men abusing young children, or bishops abusing power. And so with the church lost or soon to be, what do I fight for? I think some form of catholicity is still possible, but without a hierarchy. That the council said the one holy catholic apostolic church only subsists in the Roman and is not identical to it, is important. That true church, like Luthers invisible one will go on after Catholicism has passed away. Sans insistence, what then? A decapitalization of the Roman, the head cut off, the bank turned inside out, the thing made transparent through and through, completely reformed by the laity and its taking responsibility. For each of us stands alone before God, and cannot be good Germans who only did what we were told. We know in any sense of justice that that defense is inadequate. Some current theologians speak of reconstructive theology, but pay them no mind, they forget that any re can be de again. Let us find the new basis, and jump clear of structure and construction itself, of

the machine like mass and magisterium, duplication and duplicity, all folding in principle and in fact for the forgotten body of Christ as an organic singular event not to pass away or be passed over by the machinations of those in power. The body without a head? No. But Christ is the head generally and our own consciences in each of us particularly, and the men who would take them away from us are usurpers, treasonous against the true constitution of the body of Christ, of which all are members. Even severed or unrealized, to expound on Rahner and his implicit Christianity. The priest does not hold the keys, and there is no market for grace, what you have been given freely, pass on to others freely, and money is the enemy of faith and hope and love. Love is free, so if you obtain it by trade or purchase, it is not real love you hold but a facsimile, and all you need to have that love of God is to realize you are already there, yes/yet/you, will have been, a future perfect. Derrida wrote in his late essay on faith and knowledge about a confused series of things, including the projection of Roman power, globalatinazation, and the spread of auto-immune disorders. I could not make sense of this text a decade ago, but now I sense a prophetic voice at work in the deconstructionist. It seems to me that the Vatican has too much immunity, diplomatic immunity, doctrinal immunity, for the problem of the things to come to be resolved by the deconstruction of the hierarchy, the way the Soviet problem in Europe was overcome. The Popes immunity is killing the church of which he is the head. The infallibility of the vicar of Christ is the most fallible part of this, along with a history of the money in Rome. The bank of the Pope was created in 1942 just in time to receive any loot from the Nazis. The impetus initially to create it came from the sordid deal struck with the Italian fascists in 1929, the Lateran treaty, in which the Pope conceded the papal lands lost in 1870 for a large amount of cash and government bonds, over one billion lira. The lawsuits of the last few years brought by Holocaust survivors, trying to force open the books of the Popes bank, have foundered on the rock of sovereign diplomatic immunity. It

seems that the Vatican is the supreme rogue state, a thing angering Italian officials and their banking system, while the Church operates outside it as an off-shore entity. The Pope answers to no one. But his very immunity is what will destroy the catholic church on its Roman basis. What is taking place is the transubstantiation of the Church herself, with the substance of Christ being displaced, so that only the accidents of a Church remain, that is, it looks like it and talks like it, but it aint it. What is replacing the substance of Christ in catholicism is not known, but must be evil. Its far-reaching effects will become apparent when the new order of mass takes place. And yet, be not desperate nor despairing, for the Bible has fore-witnessed these things, even before the birth of Christ. God has decreed it, and we cannot stop it. But scripture says that when Christ comes atop a white horse the sword which he wields will defeat the beast and the false prophet, and that this sword is one of truth. After the work of truth the abyss will be sealed with a key and peace shall reign. I believe this. I hope the work I have written depicts the things of which it speaks accurately and for the good of all, both in the church and in the world. The interpretation of the Bible on these things was always confused by applying them to events in the old Rome rather than today, and by attempting to interpret the number 666 as a name rather than what it is, the numbers of men.It may be that what I have written will be neither published nor if so will go unnoticed by anyone, especially in the church. Some in the world may rejoice though at what becomes of Rome, but I hesitate to do so, except that as long as Gods will be done, then there will be cause for rejoicing.

Michael Bolerjack

All Saints Day

It is very late in the game, as most of us know, and my work has drawn to a close, everything set in place. Reflections, though, are in order. In the frame of the books of epic-criticism I sounded a few things about the time and the end of things, and what I perceive as the current situation of the church and the world will be my starting point for what I will now write. Postmodernism has been a time of the seeming attempt to restore traditions, a conservative time politically and theologically, but also a corrupt time, morally and financially. I think we need to look back a few decades to solve the puzzle. Heidegger said that Nazism was great because it was about the confrontation of man and technology. And I believe this was somewhat correct. Postmodernism is founded on the fascist. It is both politically conservative, morally nihilistic, and technologically adept. The Third Reich did not cease, but was transformed post 1945, and lives on in the anti-liberal, anti-enlightenment forces that are stressing freedom and covertly preparing totalitarianism, at the same time. The Berlin-Rome axis did not die, and I mean this in the sense of the unfortunate Catholic Church, which is a means of the magical projection of fascism to our world today. It was a kind of alchemy. The more Catholic the country, it seems, the more corrupt. Mafia in Italy, drug cartels and death squads in Latin America. As I said, conservative, immoral, technological. It is a fascinating matrix. To this we add magic, from Harry Potter, to Borges and Garcia Marquez, to the atrocities done in Juarez, sacrifices to an evil god. A magical, technological, conservative and drastically corrupt world. Deconstructionists try in their texts to say, well, it was always this way. Perhaps. But I think the modern world that once was was in principle opposed to this fascist en-framing. The net seems inescapable. Even friends criticize me harshly for not setting-up my voice mail on my cell phone, for wanting to be

incommunicado. There is tremendous pressure on all sides to conform to the paradigm of fascist fashion which is now technological. I do not think most people realize that technology is the implementation of the fascist. And I do not define fascist narrowly, to the tea party, for instance, but broadly to include the whole of culture and politics, finance and technology. I believe all of this bears down on the church and the world as an overwhelming attempt to destroy not men and cities and nations with armies, but the souls of individuals, by the annihilation of faith, hope and love. The they by this I know not whom or where or what. True tragedy cannot be pinned on anyone in particular. That is what makes it a tragedy. Tragedies are different though from case to case, play to play. Hamlet succeeds where Macbeth fails. Lear perhaps succeeds despite appearances, being reunited with his daughter, in love, despite the pain. We, too, must love, despite the pains, the cares, the pleasures, all the temptations that would lead us not to believe, not to hope, not to love. Be ready. As Hamlet. Be ripe. Like Lear. The tragedy cannot be averted, but it can be overcome, transformed, and love still triumph. The modernist was nothing if not critical. That makes me modern. The postmodernist is theoretical, but not very critical. Epicriticism means to discern. I hope the work has helped you to discern your time and place. I did this in an indirect way, reading old books, reviving an old idea like dialectical thinking, while juxtaposing pieces written on my own life, creating a work on my life and times, at once both historical and critical, sometimes almost scholarly, but at the same time prophetic and apocalyptic. If these are indeed the last days, my work may be too little, too late. But what will be we do not know, except that scripture says that God will defeat all his enemies and that the saints will make it to the New Jerusalem, if they remain written in the book of life. I hope you and you and you are, that we all may be, when God is all in all. On behalf of my wife, Marinela, I thank you for taking the time to patiently read this. We have prayed for all of you, and we have

worked together for all of you, that some of you may still be saved. The rest is Gods. That God will not lead us any where he will not provide for us, that God does the impossible, but that God requires something from us, perhaps something different from each, or perhaps the same, has been my guiding thoughts in this year of completion. Whatever our vocation is, it is God-given, and we must do it. Each of us has a vocation, whether we know it or not. In a sense, it may simply to be alive today. Though we come at the end, we may still reap what others sowed, and receive the same just, generous reward. Do not doubt Gods mercy or His heaven. And do not doubt that if you hold out to the end you will win.

I want to speak at the last, really after time ended, about modernism and postmodernism in terms of the man who is perhaps the greatest modernist, Immanuel Kant, and the man who is perhaps the poster boy for the postmodern age, John Paul II. In that collection of homilies known as the theology of the body, in the long introduction to that work, it is said that the Pope, sitting at sumptuous table with guests in the ornate and extravagant Vatican, would exclaim upon hearing the name of the philosopher Kant. I think with good reason, which I hope to elucidate. For the sake of argument, we could say that modernism was a most pure philosophy, and that postmodernism is a most impure philosophy. For reasons I refer to all that I have written hitherto. The opposition of Kant and John Paul II is essential. I have heard a religious who was teaching at a catholic university, without question and I think with deliberation, misrepresent Kants philosophy, twisting it all out of shape. When I attempted a correction, I was stopped by the fascist force the nuns use sometimes against anyone who questions them or opposes them. The same is true of the Catholic hierarchy. They will not allow dialogue, criticism, or any difference of opinion. But, time brings correction, as Benedict once said, and thank God, we may

still have a little. How are we to understand the Kantian project in terms of today? The philosopher made a critique of pure and practical reason, eliminating the transcendent as unknowable, but founding morals on the categorical imperative. The religious I spoke of denied the basic principle of Kant stated in his theory of the transcendental, that we all have certain forms we all think in, and therefore we are similar and able to communicate with each other. We are not similar to God, as the Catholics claim in the analogy of being, but similar to each other, in our existence in the categories and in space and time. To continue Kant today, by my renovation of Hegelian dialectic and the refutation of Derridas deconstruction, I have presented a new kind of critique of reason, not one of the pure and the practical, but of the general and the particular, and this as early as my writings on Wordsworth in the 1990s, when the poet denied the destructive analysis in favor of what he called the grand and simple reason, what may be called the imagination. In my logic I have shown the particular reason as having become completely fragmented and destructive, completely contradictory. I think John Paul II would say this is a direct result of Kantian modernism, and perhaps he would be right. But Wordsworth was more right, in arguing forward into the high ground of imagination, not back into dogmatic retreat, which was a cover for a subterfuge. The reconciliation of the great fragmentation in particular reason, seen prominently in the American politics of the last thirty years, and incorrectly blamed on the media, which is but a mirror, not the cause of the contradiction, comes through a theory that is grand and simple and imaginative in a general reason that forgives contradiction, that affirms all, not by perpetuating conflict, but like Kant, through a prayer for a reasonable religion and an eternal peace. The way up is the way down. All is one. God alone is. Be perfect, which means not to set no limits to love, but rather release judgment and the power to judge, giving to God what is Gods, and letting the world be as it is, and the church as it is,

forgiving all particular sins and errors, the mistakes of an impure logic, by a general attitude of love and forgiveness. We see this in the imperative of Kant, which says, basically, perform your actions as if everyone would repeat the actions you make. Which is very different from Nietzsches repetition. It is an imaginative forward moral thought. In all, it is the rule of the symbolic life, which you and I both lead, though you may or may not recognize it as I do. Since these things have been: Would that all Gods people were prophets, as Moses said. And as Joel said, God will pour out his Spirit on all people, the old men shall dream, and the young men shall see visions. And as Peter quoted the latter on Pentecost, the Biblical footnotes say it is accomplished, the thing Moses and Joel and Peter said. The Spiritual life is a prophetic and symbolic life, and what we do is, I think, truly repeated by others in a way we know not. Charles Baudelaire spoke of a mystical correspondence as does the Kabbalah. At any rate, what we do, what we say, and what we think, matters in ways we do not know, but which is commented on in theories in physics, the so-called chaos theory, and in psychologys so-called synchronicity. Everything belongs, as Richard Rohr said. Everything belongs in the theory of general reason, and everything then respires with meaning, as Wordsworths mystical and moral poetry stated in a sentiment some mistakenly thought was natural. The postmodern deconstruction of meaning, that took place through the proliferation of the text, is overcome by an acceptance of personal responsibility for our actions that will reverse the corrupt financialization of all aspects of life which is the value of technology. Meaning is not purchased, it is made, and we make meaning through our actions, which some wish to be meaningless, but which in the eyes of God, are all infinitely important, as the Kantian categorical imperative said in its own terms. He saw us in relation to everyone else, as our explication, while postmodernism implicates us in its tainted love, sin without sense. Sin without sense is the violence of the age, the fruit of fascism, in a

time when the words crazy and evil are used with free substitution to describe what has happened from Hitler to Juarez, 1945 to 2010. Madness, which Plato said was sometimes a very good thing, is implicated with evil, which can never be good, through the taint of the postmodern logic, eliminating the possibility of great love and what may be called the great divine love that is the madness the saints showed, in order to destroy love itself, which, to be the real thing, must look to all the world just plain crazy. This confusion of madness, which my logic may be pejoratively termed, with an evil not crazy, violates the principle of principles of the general reason: The pure must be preserved, without a trace of the other. The Immaculate Conception, the IC, as Derrida uses it in Glas, is purely opposed to the taint of it, IT (and it may well be summed by information technology), as Epicriticism shows in the title of the work, in which IC surrounds IT and limits it, through a different kind of repetition, one may say of the prayer of the heart, or as my wife says, by devotion. The two ways of repetition are thus disclosed: The rosary of supplication against the replication of the replication alone; one mindful of devotion, the other one devoted but to mindlessness. With so many of us paying so much attention, how could the end of things happen and go unnoticed? It is an old saying, we could not see the forest for the trees. With the flood of information, somehow this, combined with the lack of prophetic insight, as opposed to historical or scholarly, or political and financial, wisdoms, has led to the situation. The triumph of wealth, the triumph of technology, the return of triumphalism in theology, the triumph of life, as the poet would say, in all its glare and would-be glory, a great vehicle crushing all opposed to it, or even just caught in the path of the career of it, all this really Roman and essentially Empiric triumph, spectacle, done for show, for semblance, and not really fooling anyone, but gladly welcomed as the escape from reason and reality, has been the recipe for the disaster of the evacuation of faith, hope and love, for the eclipse of the light of the world,

the opposite of the preparation for the gospel some thought it might be. My work is written in antithesis to this, attempting a synthesis from the debris. That I may be wrong in my elucidation of the time, I must admit. That the logic I have found may not work, I must admit. But that the world is in deep trouble, I think we all must admit. I hope you will concede that we all have the responsibility, given the opportunity, to suggest a solution to what has become a global problem, involving the fate of all. That my solution involves great contradictions, and yet is simple, is the strength of it. Against the complexity of the Gordian knot of postmodernism I use a gospel sword, the word of truth, and built my work, after its false, but fortunate, start in the abyss, by adhering to scripture and synthesizing it with what I found in the best and most useful aspects of the wisdoms I have read and known and lived. This dialectic may yet provide a way out by not the use of force against the knot, nor yet by yielding to the seductions of complexity, but by patient description and explanation, and even, I hope, a telling disclosure of truth. Having over the course of time, with patience, in my search for truth, straightened-out both dialectic and deconstruction, and finally turned to Kant and reconstructed the first two critiques, of pure and practical reason, along the lines of the general and the particular reason, I now wish to turn to the third critique, that of judgment. Kant writes of the beautiful and the sublime, and of teleology, so it is appropriate to say the matter concerning judgment in the context of the end of things and our finality, that is, the Day of Judgment, the great day, the awesome and terrible day of the Lord. Having transposed reason from the pure and practical to the general and particular, let us likewise transpose the critique of judgment into a clear and precise, up-to-date definition of what in Christian theology are known as the particular and the general judgments. It may be the former is what we all expect, that we will be judged according to our works, our words, what we did and did not do, what we did for the least among us and what we did not, what we did for

Christ, and what we did not. Scripture says it is so. According to our torturous particular reasons it could not be otherwise, as human thinking shows. But the Lord has said plainly again and again that He does not think like we do. The general reason that I have suggested is the closest we can come, at least that I can come, to understanding the absolute Mind of Christ, reconciling oppositions, forgiving enemies, justifying sinners. And so I believe the general judgment will be according to the general reason. It will be pardon, amnesty, forgiveness. Though we as individuals may have been sunk deep in the abyss of sin, the whole man, the human race, will stand united as one on the Day of Judgment, and we will all be forgiven, as one. It is the unification of the beauty of holy forgiveness with the terror and sublimity of the infinite power of God, together with a true understanding of the telos. With this prophetic hope the logic ends. Thus, the logic ends, pointing to something over the horizon, while within the world and within the church the task of love remains. What is this task? Paul said that faith, and hope, and love, these three remain, but that the greatest of these is love. I appeal to hope in the resolution of the logic and the working through of Kants critiques of reason and judgment, but what of the thingin-itself, that is, criticism, as such? For what we know is the way we know. If we know dogmatically, and if we know critically, these are very different things. In the work now ending, I argued for a faithful criticism and a critical faith. I think both dogmatic catholic theology of the postmodern era and the dogmatic theory of deconstruction are more like each other than has been supposed, because both are equally far from criticism, and deny it in practice, not tolerating it, nor dialogue, nor the inviolability of the conscience, but rather insisting on the necessity of the positions held by popes and professors. The conscience in its integrity preached by the Second Vatican Council must be critical, so as to be faithful to the message of the gospel, just as the philosopher must be critical in order to be faithful to the commitment to truth above all else. In

an age when people deny that any truth still exists, or that the dogmatic position of one pope or professor or party, people or nation, economy or religion, is the one answer, the whole truth, it means that our time has dissipated thought in particular reasons, better known as rationalizations, rather than reach and take hold of truth itself, that is to allow oneself to live in it, abide in it, love it, instead of manipulating it, for politics, advertising, money, power, prestige and the appearance of the glamorous which is not glory, but is the death knell of beauty, good and truth. That we had a glamorous pope is a shame. That the destructiveness of the death written of by deconstruction became the definition of glamour is a shame. Faithful criticism stands outside the circularity of dogmatic positions, all particular, and stands in relation to the general reason, which is not to be seen in terms of the so-called general economy of postmodernism, opposed to restricted dialectic, but which is simply the standpoint that faith-criticism reaches by patience, love and hope. It is not a hopeless contamination and juxtaposition of any and all, but a discernment, beginning with the basic moral opposition of good and evil, which leads truly to the mystical love dogmatism promises but cannot deliver, because the dogmatic man is a tyrant, and loves no one in truth, but his own. They stand in particular against all the others, whom we know we are to love. Catholicism and Christianity to fulfill their mission must give up the special for the general, and love everyone. That political parties do not do this is perhaps understandable, but that the heirs of the gospel do not do this is a sin, not to mention the many particular sins of which many now stand accused, even at the highest levels. That capital will not give itself away is perhaps understandable, but that the riches of the church, which are not found in the Vatican but in the Bible and on the altar of the heart, have not begun to be disclosed after two thousand years, what are we to make of this? You say, but the gospel is preached to all nations. Dogmatism is theory, but faith-criticism is practice. The church and the world criticize each

other, but only from their particular points-of-view, that is generally not in good faith. They act like political parties, who agree to disagree, and profit off each other in a mutual economy of implication. In order to hold on to faith in the church and the world today one will need to learn to think, discern, be critical, and be faithful to the one thing necessary. Call that one thing what you will, it matters not, but when He calls, you must respond faithfully, even if it breaks you, breaks your church, breaks your world. As bread is broken, be broken, too. To not be too sentimental about this breaking, let us lay it all on the head of that one man Nietzsche, who was broken, as perhaps we all must be. There was Nietzsche, simply, on the square, and then dogmatically, we would have an anti-Nietzsche, which most good people since 1900, if they think about it, must suppose themselves to be, and then there is Nietzsche-otherwise, the Heideggerean, Derridean, postmodern appropriation of Nietzsche. But you know my logic. What is Nietzsche in the fourth place? How does Nietzsche arrive? His basic doctrines, Heidegger cogently said, were the will to power and the eternal recurrence, which Heidegger made into the will wills itself. But this is not Nietzsche as fourth, rather Nietzsche returned. What is the arrival of the will to power, of the will that wills itself? Not that willing of power, and nothing besides, but rather, and I might say merely, a willingness. Willingness. It is more other than the Other, than will to power itself, than an anti- or an otherwise-than-Nietzsche, and is his proper breaking, the breaking of the postmodern, through a simple, humble thing summed by that word willingness. Not by assertion or negation. Not by reason, either dogmatic or skeptic, or even critical. Nor by indifference, the position of the amoral most congenial to Nietzsche, but by the willingness itself. Willingness to let go, to suffer, to be humiliated, to be broken. Christ did not will his crucifixion, but accepted it willingly. And there is all the difference between Christs practice and Nietzsches theory. Therefore, you may confidently hope that if you are

willing, yes, you may yet be saved. Willingness is not the same as obedience, though it is often confused with it. It puts the glory of another ahead of itself, not as commanded, but out of love, out of confidence, in a courage that destroys even death, overcoming it not by willing nothingness, nor by not willing at all, but by willing as one is willing to love and be loved. It is our marriage. Blake spoke of the marriage of heaven and hell, while Derrida spoke of perfecting the resemblance of Dionysus and Christ. I choose neither option. I do not choose the one offered by the poet. I do not choose the one offered by the philosopher. To choose these seems not to reconcile oppositions, but to entangle all things in webs without end. It would be a violent yoking together of things that must be kept discrete. Discretion recommends a better course. Let us say there is a marriage, to which we are all invited. It behooves us to attend the wedding of the Bride and the Lamb. We cannot feign important engagements elsewhere. On the day the world ends, if it has not already ended, there is only one place to be, and that is at the wedding. But recall, many were invited, but one did not have the proper attire, and so was cast out. I think we better bring an offering of some kind at least. I think it a spiritual truth that God has given gifts and talents to all, and that he expects us to not neglect these, but to increase them, as one might these days strive to enhance wealth. However, I believe, the gifts of God are not always known to us, and we spend our whole lives searching for the thing we are to do. I was lucky. From an early age I was born to write, and that was about the only thing I did. I loved and was loved, prayed, and made friends, held a few unsteady jobs, piled up great unpaid debts, all the while I wrote. It frightens me to think God in his absolute freedom may tell me that I got it all wrong, that I was really meant to do some other thing, ordinary or extraordinary, and that I missed the boat, missed my chance, do not get off the merry-go-round, but must go around at least one more time, if I am to be given an additional chance. God has mercy on whom He will. We work out

our destinies in salvation history with fear and trembling, but also with joy and hope, as the council fathers said, and it is the union of these contraries that are the attitudes we bring to the wedding day, tomorrow, for which we may be shown mercy.

Michael Bolerjack

God Church World Michael Bolerjack

The Story of a Soul In her best-selling auto-biography, St. Therese of Liseux has some peculiarities of style. She uses frequent ellipses, exclamation points, capitalization, in ways that a professional writer let alone a professional theologian and Doctor of the Church most often does not. I think there must be some reason for it. One might compare her style with another book of that period, Nietzsches AntiChrist. In that work he is shrill, hysterical, and I have read critics who reconcile this logically, philosophically. If it can be done for him, I think Therese deserves similar consideration. This is not the place to analyze these marks of her style, but to generally assert that they are amateurish, girlish, enthusiastic, nave, or at least they seem to be so on the face of it. At the same time I must say this is not a bad thing, not a faux pas on her part, but something essential to who she is and what her message is. T.S. Eliot said that when a new writer is included in the canon of literature, the entire canon undergoes an adjustment. The same can be said of the relationship between this new, unique Doctor of the Church and the body to which John Paul II promoted her for the consideration of the faithful. We need not be skeptical about his decision. Nor needs we be too sentimental, the thing I think Rahner abhorred about devotion to the Little Flower. What occurred in the life of the Church when Therese was included among the ranks of her most prominent theologians has yet to be realized. However, I might say that these earmarks of her writing style indicate something new that as Rahner said will need much explication. The inclusion of Therese must change the shape of theology in catholic circles, making it in a word littler, more feminine, child-like. I think it may help in what I have said is the thing that the Catholic Church needs the most, and that is its de-capitalization. I think we need to look at her, and at the faith of the virgin martyrs, as unexampled. There are plenty of theologians, and they come and go, and publish their needless tomes, soon forgotten, but Therese and the other Teresas and the virgin martyrs remain, and remain at the heart of the Church, despite its masculine hierarchy. I think Therese will be heard in time. Her message will get through. It is the message of Mother Teresa as well. It is simply gospel. We do not need historical methods in our theology, but a practical theology, that is, one that can be practiced by everyone. Therese, in theory, is that key to the future theology of the little c catholic church.

The Portable Nietzsche In a postscript to a late margin, Nietzsche writes of his Ariadne, Cosima Wagner, that from time to time there is magic. Now, this magic took the form of insanity. In our day it is an irrationality, an otherness lodged at the heart of being that being or the same cannot assimilate and is its pain, its disease. Many wrote of this from the 1960s on, Levinas and Derrida, as well as Paz and Machado. All over the world in these late days of arrival the otherness of the whole became apparent. What was excluded demanded to not be ignored. We do not truly know what this other is. We do not know whether it is good or evil. Or Autrement. It is transcendent and yet immanent, at work or play in the very numbers and letters that we use or that use us. I think we have had an illusion of being control, what we call consciousness, and that this is for good or ill passing away. I think a new mind is being born. Science sees many changes in the human brain the last 100 years that we do not know the goal of. More is happening than we know. We may perhaps be being prepared for the apocalypse, which may not be so much the catastrophe as the unveiling of what has hitherto remained hidden. Otherness must have something about it of the divine, the super-natural, what people call magical, because it exceeds the human notion of holiness and the sacred. God is greater than any partial explanation, any religion, and if he creates both good and evil, as the prophets say, and is beyond all of the polar oppositions by which we perceive what we call reality, then God is just incomprehensible. Perhaps everything that is in-comprehensible somehow is an attribute of the Divine. From time to time there is magic. As Celan said, the light compels, light was salvation, you be like you, ever. God ever is and is our compulsion, our pressing, our need. Truly magic is not the attempt of men to manipulate the gods, but something other that is like a force flowing through us, ordering and disordering the time, and our minds. Imagination is what the poets called it, the genius that apprehends more than cool reason comprehends. We need not worry about the rejection of morality and faith by Nietzsche, or his de-struction of mans reason in favor of the body, but read him as symptom, not cause, of the transformation now underway. I believe that God wants us to let go of all that we cling to of humanitys tradition and precept and hold him in pure faith, which is irrational, a pure will that relies not on the concept, but on trust in the mercy of God, which flies in the face of reason. To trust in his mercy despite the catastrophe unfolding all around us. To believe despite ourselves. I may reach the point where all I have to hold onto is the bare name of Jesus, all my thoughts stripped away, unable to believe that said by Popes who may be anti-Christ, to know that every person has let me down, that the real world is but illusion, that I cannot even depend on me, but only on God, whom I do not know but love and trust in the mystery of mercy. I believe God is at work in the world and in me, and in these books I have written. If they seem magical, stand back and realize that all things and ideas are forms of the divine, modifications of the divine substance, which is all that there is. Everything else is

mere opinion and seeming. From time to time there is magic. Some call it grace or miracle or the sacrament, but I do not know if our categories suffice to comprehend an infinite and eternal truth greater than we. I stand in the middle of things, in the middle of the epic, in the middle of the age, for perhaps we are not late, and perhaps the arrival is not a late tale, after all, but only the advent, that all has been but prologue, and that in the end is our real beginning. There is magic, and what that is I do not know. We suspend our disbelief in times of poetic utterance to let art be. We stand back and let it all be, and cease interpretation and the negotiations of finance and textuality in order to be grasped by the truth, which we trust that, if it is truth, alone can grasp us and will surely not fail there to.

Finnegans Wake The end of this book, which really does not end, implies something that is there and not there at the same, a kind of prayer. I have shown the supplicatory aspect of the Yes at the end of Ulysses and now would like to de-monstrate the conclusion of the Wake as the perfection of this prayer. The last lines of the book can be read so many ways. Usually one says the final the is referring to the opening riverrun, to circle things back. I think it does this and something else as well. Joyce proclaims that the keys to are given. He has said Finn, again. He has said Till thous-endsthee. Now I think that this ends thee. The the of the end is to be said not as slack the, definite but open, but precisely THEE. The Keys to. Given! Given to whom, but to THEE. Not a way a lone a last a loved a long abut the, because you are it, I AM IT, we are it, as the auditors of Prospero in the epilogue of Shakespeares final act, his prayer for forgiveness. Given? Key? It is the forgiveness of THEE.

to. then. endsthee. Lps {please} long the [] long thee, he longs but for THEE, to then ends, THEE.

Thou, ends, thee. It ends with us, we are the one for whom and in whom the work arrives and Joyce affirms not one definitely but all infinitely. It is a way of saying YOU and YES at once: the THEE. THEE I said THEE I Will THEE, then you and I are in truth the arrival of the text, that the secret is that it is we who hold the keys, keys of Peter, keys of the see, to forgive, to forgive all good thieves, whom writers to write must be, saying, But softly, thee, remember me, till thou ends thee, that we never ending be, as love does not end, for thee given, never ending, thou art the key,

the text is thee (se). The text is these, thees, the signature effect is here comes everybody, and all along HCE was THEE, was all of us, it was written to you and you and you and yes to thee.

Glas Derridas book is all about theft, the thief Genet, the journal of the thief, stealing from both him and Hegel, because if language is the house of being, and if a language brings along with it a whole of metaphysics and onto-theology, then the theft of texts and words requires redemption, for it is our very being, something essential, that has been stolen. My stop Glas, if it be, was a double redemption, of the last words of the two works of Joyce, the YES from Ulysses, which Derrida appropriated, and the final supplication of THEE from Finnegans Wake. It may seem blasphemous to say that Yes I have redeemed Thee, to You and you, but not your souls, only two prayers of James Joyce, the endings, the thresholds, where everything is grace, two points, yes, thee, on which everything else depends, for given, given time, counter-fitted texts, thefts, Glas of glory, gloss of glossalalia, Embabbled language, it is the life of our tongue, O Father, that I have redeemed, and the word, perhaps The Word, which had been stolen, and with it religion. Let us now celebrate not mystery but yes Lord, Thee, as we say yes thee. Your fiat Lord, in Genesis and the fiat of Mary, too, must always be seconded by our own, and a yes on our part must follow Your yes, as that of Mary did. If we do not say yes to Thee Lord, it does not matter what else we say.

Sermon on the Mount Jesus said, Therefore be perfect, as your heavenly father is perfect. For he causes the rain to fall and the sun to shine on both the just and the unjust. How can we be perfect? To make the one affirmation that He commands. To love all, every one, no matter what they have done or who they are. And how do we translate that into the vocation of the writer? That would be to compose a work that encompasses all of the oppositions, and make them one, that is, return the many to their origin in God. For God is not complex, he is simple, and if contradiction is the truth, it must not be as complicated as Derrida said, but rather simple, as the title of my work is simple and yet says two opposite things at the same time. The Bible always says opposite things at the same time, for all these contradictions are contained in the one book, and are therefore at once. Both faith and works save. Be perfect, and though we are sinners, and must admit this, yet we must not sin again,

ever. How? By grace, by mercy, not by our own will and effort, yet seek, yet ask, and ye will arrive, ye will find the end of all your asking and searching and that in a more marvelous way than supposed. Since God is beyond all He must include all, even what we think is to be excluded, and Jesus did not come for the righteous, in the Church, but for the lost ones, the sinners, the stray, whom he especially loves, which is a contradiction, since one thinks He would especially love the ones who do His will perfectly, but there is more joy in Heaven over one who returns, than over the 99 who never left. God bless you Prodigals, you Magdalenes, you saints to be. The work I have written, written by a sinner, by one on the margins of the Church, yet somehow in heart at one with God, is a work that in a way that is literally incomprehensible expresses in writing what it means to fulfill the injunction to be perfect. That is to say, it is more mystical than moral. The splendor of truth is the moral beauty I found along the way, but the truth of splendor is the mystical God who perfected the work. Derrida said that writing must literally mean nothing. No. Far rather, nothing must be literally writing, but in the letters and numbers of our writing abides a living presence of God that is the spiritual nexus of our just combinations, a being both moral and mystical that gives meaning to bare writing, so that all that is written is implicated in Scripture and all we write are explications of the text of the Word of God. Everything has been commentary on his Book. If we seem belated, it is because we can never be first, but are in a state of ever secondary literatures, tried in faith and by our works. Be perfect and be perfected. One cannot be otherwise, one cannot but be.

Kabbalah and Criticism The theory of the present work, has many aspects, of which some of the more salient are the idea of arrival, and the synthesis of dialectic and de-construction, or the reform and renewal of Catholicism based on a revived dialectical logic. But I want to say at least once in a way that I nowhere else explain, that the work, late in the writing and editing of it, went through a penultimate stage in which it was based on the abstruse relations of the book of fabled magic, The Kabbalah, which I read in several versions, but which late in the composition and editing of the work came to me with peculiar efficiency through Harold Blooms little Kabbalah and Criticism. In his work, I quickly perceived the shape of my own, which over the next few days, with minor adjustments, achieved a form that was crucial to the ultimate redaction. In that previous shape, there was a larger icon of ten volumes and a shorter icon of ten chapters. Ultrastructure or Meta-signification of the numbers three, four, seven, twelve, was combined with the Pythagorean 1, 2, 3, 4, and the similar scheme of The Kabbalah, more detailed than that of the

Greek. I believe it is Gods mercy that the worlds mysteries can be seen to converge and arrive in the different religions and philosophies viewed through the shapes hidden in this text.

The Anxiety of Influence It would be remiss of me to not acknowledge as well my indebtedness to Harold Bloom and his theory about the relationship between writers and their precursors. My agon was with Jacques Derrida, who can be denied or ignored, like the gospel of Christ, but must be taken seriously and either affirmed or transformed, for it is no longer possible to simply reject deconstructive logic, as it has taken hold in all areas of life, even in the post-modern Church, with mega-congregations, media-popes, and what seems to be an un-comfortable level of corruption throughout the religious world. I struggled with Derrida in the 1980s just to grasp what the hell was going on, which I picked up in the details of the texts explications, but not in the moral implications. I had not yet converted to Christ. Samuel Southwell, a great teacher of mine, who also converted about the time I did, told me we were both driven into the catholic Church from different directions by Derrida. I thought by about 1996 I had pretty much worked-through deconstruction, when I became aware of the turn to religion that had occurred in that philosophy and then I had to deal with that, too. But it was a fortunate thing for both me and the work, because I had not yet understood at the level I should have about the logic of Derrida. I got his attack on purity, but I had not yet seen the play of impossibility, which I have outlined in the preceding pages. My almost final word on the French philosopher is found in the fourth part of the treatise on logic, The Yes. There I redeem the affirmation as such from the hands of the deconstructionist and return it to Joyce, taking the yes from Derridas late appropriation, which he always said as yes, yes, and showing the aspect of the final word of Ulysses which is unexampled, and in so doing showed the fallacy of taking examples and samples, of replication, as opposed to the supplication, thereby establishing again the possibility as such, which Derrida had made impossible. In principle, I have overcome Derrida and deconstruction, and I did this by accepting and rejecting parts of the project of postmodernism, and placing what I took in a new order. As Bloom said of Plotinus, everything is always hierarchical. As he also said, the point of departure of the Kabbalah de-fates the trace.

Shakespeare:

Invention of the Human The book that I used most often in graduate school, other than the Bible itself, was Blooms late best-seller on the Bard. My teacher Clinton Brand said that he probably makes too much of the basic distinction between Falstaff and Hamlet. However, I have found it instructive. I was talking with my wife and her parents this summer. My in-laws had come from Mexico for a day or two. My father-in-law has been sick this year and was expecting a dangerous surgery, which fortunately for now has been postponed. On the Sunday morning they returned home and I saw him for what may be the final time, I told Sabino and his wife Maria and their daughter Marinela, my wife, my hypothesis based on Blooms theory. I am like Hamlet and Sabino is like Falstaff. I think too much, make soliloquies, which I think are prayers but which any good atheist would say are delusions, and feel called to set right a time out of joint. Sabino, on the other hand, likes his drink, laughs like Mozart, plays dominos with his friends, and has fathered four children and eight grandchildren while I have produced only my books. When I pointed out the contrast, he laughed loudly. His wife and daughter did not understand, because of their different culture, but he got it immediately. I think each of us, my father-in-law and I, are only parts, we are not whole men. We are not great, and no one is good but God alone. But we are men, of different natures and ambitions, different projects as one might say, but still men, and this is what we are, what we will be we do not know. Somehow, by way of Blooms interpretation of Shakespeare, I understood myself and my fatherin-law. By recognizing him, I saw me. Hamlet too could be funny, as Falstaff was, but it was a mad game, though with method in mind, and Hamlet goes through his trans-formation and fulfills his mission. In that respect, I think I have arrived. I am not a saint, but for now I am a man closer to the man I have prayed that God would have me to be.

An Icon for the Church on the Mercy of God That deconstruction depends on asserting multiple conflicting interpretations of a text is wellknown. The deconstruction can only proceed by application of the logic of Aristotle, the law of non-contradiction. However, in my work I have moved to a point removed from that tradition, and as early as 1995 asserted the irrationality of the contradiction as true. The whole truth must be contradictory to be the truth. As this applies to my work itself can be seen at a natural startingpoint, the title of this note. In it is the strange true exemplification of the theory. The explicit

reading has to do with religion, icons, mercy, Church, God. But the hidden meaning is another thing altogether, that is, the word MAGIC appears when the anagram in the title is seen. Implicit, hidden in the title and in the work as a whole, It may be that there was something itself magical about this anagram, for I did not intentionally place it there, but once having seen it, decided not to revise it, because it makes a weird kind of sense, based on my theory of the truth of contradiction. And the plan of the work itself had a magical aspect as to its hidden structure based on the Kabbalah, an aspect I denounce openly in different points in the work, as in my papers on alchemy and Greek tragedy, in polemic with university professors who openly proclaimed magical beliefs. And in the postmodern milieu there is much of this, as in the magic realism of Borges and others. But I must be at peace with myself and with my work, trusting that God knew what he was doing when he had me contradict myself. At least it proves the logical theory of the work. Also it may say something about the Real, that reality is more than one partial account can render, which is why there are four gospels, two accounts of creation in Genesis, and such things in the Bible. If Scripture itself does this, perhaps this aspect of what I call Ultrastructure is at work everywhere. We can view it as the struggle between good and evil going on at even the level of the alphabet, or effract the merely moral and see a comprehensive mysticism of the letter and the number that is always and everywhere at work. This does not absolve anyone of moral obligations, but allows art to be what it is.

The Visionary Company Blooms early work on the English Romantic poets contains an insight into Samuel Taylor Coleridge and creative genius. Bloom says that STC became scared of his own genius and backedoff after only a few years with the muse. It puts me in mind of just what genius is and what my own consists of. It was once thought to be spiritual, then something in the unconscious mind. No one knows but God. Blake said the poetic genius was the real man, Jesus Christ, the eternal imagination. That suits me fine. I like to think that after all my hours of prayer that indeed Christ is the source of the work in me and on the pages. I believe as they say that God is in control, as Einstein thought, as Newton did as well. I do not believe the truth is to be found in uncertainty, but that the contradictions of physics indicate not a lack of the deity but an incapacity of our own minds to see things as God does, and as he wishes us to do. Or so I think. If I am one of the socalled visionary company, my work may be in a lineage including Wordsworths and Coleridges autobiographies, though I think, despite my lesser powers as a poet and critic, that my genius, whatever that may be, both attempted and achieved more, and being a theological one, is more akin to the work of St. Thomas Aquinas, who made the synthesis of his age. Perhaps one day my

Icon will be read as being a synthesis of what could not be synthesized, and point a direction for
catholic thinkers of the future to go toward.

Memoirs of the Blind It is in this art book of the 1990s that Derrida makes his famous confession or act of faith, a formula I have repeated many times in the work, prominently in the essay written at the time of the funeral of John Paul II. Derrida said, I do not know. One must believe. Thinking about this in terms of the logic outlined in my book, which emphasizes the deconstructive necessity of the impossibility of possibility, which I counter with freedom of choice and the act of faith, I see that Derrida in this little phrase is once again making a simulation, on the one hand, and on the other hand, once again eliminating freedom, the freedom necessary to make a real act of faith. He says, One must believe. Not only is this imperious, but it is not true, because if one must, then it is not really faith, because faith must be based on a free act, not one compelled by Derridas logic. He presents skeptic ignorance as the basis for denying freedom and compelling faith. But Vatican II says that persons cannot be forced against their consciences, especially in religious matters. Derridas act of faith sounds more like the auto-de-fe of the Inquisition, the compelled act of faith, that is made with a blinding necessity. In fact, the logic of deconstruction is precisely that, blinding. But not from an excess of light. Rather the obscure leading to the more obscure. It is not necessary to believe. That is part of the great value of it. It requires decision, the free act, which Derrida tried to make void.

Being and Believing My first work, which was met with silence, boredom and the charge that is was merely incomprehensible gibberish, was a spur to my work you now hold. Much of it was taken apart and rewritten for the present texts of The Thirty Years War, while earlier versions of Being and Believing join later revisions and a couple of chapters of the work itself in the volumes of this I hope happy juxtaposition that claims to be more than collage, a mosaic law of the Tessera that orders the fragments into a true synthesis. As hidden Heraclitus said, the most beautiful thing is a pile of junk on the ground, just as it is. In his third encyclical, Benedict XVI proved himself to lack understanding in his interpretation of this text. What the artist has is that pile from which he creates the new thing. What Benedict has is a rigid system of old magisterial documents that will admit no

real change, a machine that perpetuates only itself. Yet God will break into the world how He will, even including the destruction of that system which denies the efficacy of Gods Spirit to blow where He will. The Pope would limit God, as the seminarian told me: Gods hands are tied. The priests I think really believe this. But I do not. Freedom is the whole thing, in a way, which is the significance of my country despite its flaws, and is the significance of Vatican II, that would free us for God, to serve Christ rather than the Roman order. I was almost right. Being is Believing, faith is what makes us real. Faith must be free to be real.

Light-Compulsion In the late poem You Be Like You, Paul Celan uses a reference to the ever, which I think across his text is very different from the mere theology of eternity. This ever holds special place as distinct from the eternal, and involves not transcendent heaven but immanent endurance. At the end of the poem, having roused Jerusalem to stand, let me not forget you, my mother, he speaks a bit of Hebrew: Kumi Ori. O, behold the beloved in her beauty. Come my beloved my beautiful one, the glory of the Lord is the feminine, the beauty of woman, Sheckinah. You be like you, ever, kumi ori. My-beauty-is-not-my-own, Songs sing of her, too, invoking the side of God that is not on the left, the wrath, mere-philosophy, which is legal and Roman, not Gods mercy, but a beauty of the line and shape and form of the poetic image of the woman who was with God from the beginning, is Wisdom herself, and delights in playing with us and helps us in our creations. Selah. The compulsion of light is its directness, the masculine straightness which the gravity of the mass of woman bends as space, alone deflecting the violence of the straight light for the soft curving truth of what alone can, coming from God and being His wisdom, reform the straight, rigid, hard Roman correctness and orthodoxy by a curvature: the secret is neither a straight line nor labyrinthine breaking of amazement, but an unfolding of the wave, the suppleness of the supplication, that does not supply or supplement what is lacking, but like light comes both particularly and at the same time waving. Light is thus irreducibly. Like ever.

Zohar The Ein Sof or the one beyond, from which all grow or descend, emanate, the books or the sefirot, the one that is without end, which is both completely full and empty, both being and nothing, can be seen in the title of An Icon for the Church on the Mercy of God. For ever the two senses will contradict each other, the true religion and heretical magic. Derrida would say that I

have deconstructed myself, but I think that the title of the first text has apprehended the deconstruction, appropriated it, turned it, and rather than paralyzing meaning given the fullness of meaning, the mindfulness, the memory in words, the theory and practice of literature, the totality which includes the infinite by an ever-limitation. Armageddon is moral beauty.

That dice thrown

will never annul chance and that all thought utters dice thrown, and that Derrida depended on these poeticisms, and that I once held that the symbol divides itself in two, and the possibility of thought is the thought of possibility, as the culmination of my time in deconstruction, of what do I say of these things now? It may be that the poet meant to say that possibility is irreducible, that action is an illusion against the backdrop of perpetual and unchanging about-to-be, that the step though taken, is really annulled by the fact that chance itself cannot not be. This principle of supreme indeterminacy, which entered most peoples minds through the science of physics, but was first stated by a poet, seems to say the last word is that there is no last word, that the possibility is that it, possibility itself, makes reality in act the very figure of the impossible. That somehow the reserve of the possible not only annuls the dice throw that would annul it, but in fact annuls itself, that possibility is made The Impossible. That was Derridas one chance. From this hunch he wove a fantastic work of seeming, a phantasm of ligatures, cuts, sutures, ligaments, agglutinations, analisms, and magical cruelties that post-post, retro-active, in principle, annuls itself at the same time, du meme coup, in the same blow, as a throw of the dice, that it annuls everything else, as if to say, marriage is always already annulled even before it is ever consummated, before it can be. Marriage cannot be, love cannot be, there can be no end, nor any beginning, we are vastly lost in the indeterminate middle of a wasteland. On the other hand, that the symbol divides itself in two, that was true, but that

the two parts fit together, marriage in other words, is in fact predetermined, not indeterminate, and that we will have identity is the principle, not the cause of difference or the force of deferral and delay. That if we be but broken, we can be put back together was the promise I made myself from the outset, and that possibility and all its problems was the key was a token to remind me of the way, for with possibility we may have the answer, but without it we have nothing. That from the beginning I saw the project of my career in writing as a path leading from nothing to everything, the great reversal, was exactly set against deconstruction, though I knew it not at the time. That in fact the end was reached by the logic of the impossible, that I have recuperated my true identity, that the logic of deconstruction has been decided in favor of a Christian love, which unites and distinguishes, as in marriage, that meaning will yet be, that the yes I say to Thee has more meaning than ever, is not to say this real affirmation is ever indeterminate or over determined, but that God is implicit in every truth, and that all we say and do refers to Him. To arrive at the apocalyptic by the reverential love of revelation is to say yes to the Lord. His ways are not our ways. We accept His judgment.

GodChurchWorld
is the system of the Anti-Christ, which is a thing that may surprise some, especially those who have read the cover of the books and turned to this last page to steal my ending without having made the journey I made to get here. The Church in the Modern World, a key document of the Second Vatican Council, stated the position by just boldly placing Catholicism in and not juxtaposed to or against modernity. If this was an error, I do not know, but that we see in recent events the worldly aspects of the church are beyond doubt. Yet, she may be holy, and without a doubt God is, and the world too is not without its goodness, bestowed by God, both natural and human. So why do I make this extraordinary claim concerning evil and the things most of us know and love? I think like the poets said, particularly Blake: The deception is great. And many there are who are deceived, and wittingly or not go along with the corruption of not only morals but faith and the intellect, all of our culture. We must be radical in our love of Christ, and fight for Him, as He fights for each of us. If you have read all my pages you know the story, but the solution is not really in my hands or yours however, but in Gods. God so loved the world, and loved the church, and loves us, I believe, that we should not give up on them and our-selves, despite the enemy within the perimeter. In a way I have called in an air strike on our own position, hoping that God will by His own means cut out the evil wherever it may be, and especially in my heart, and in yours and yours. That the

apocalypse was written long ago, and in a sense has already occurred, is reassuring. That God is in control, that is part of our faith. Trust in His mercy, and hope for the best. Do not lightly leave off good things, spiritual things, or be disturbed by every wind of finance and politics, or of turmoil in the church. Pray for the will of God to be done now where we are, not later, for sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. The Bible may say contradictory things, and a fortiori churches and mere men, and most of all the work I have written, but do not let the oppositions overcome the one truth you live by, whatever that may be, that star, that dream, that love and hope, even desire and most of all your truth. Perhaps to each his own, perhaps we are all one. God knows, and that is enough for me. May God forgive my errors.

After Reading Roland Barthes

Four Directions:

Inward/Outward/Forward/Up (Plato and Aristotle, again) spatial and temporal (at once)

Is the Kingdom Within or Among? solitary/solidarity Moral/Mystical [prayer] the meta Public/Exhibitions [politics] the para

metabolic hierarchy overriding the parabolic open-endedness Life/Death/Otherwise The pleasure of the text and the bliss of Barthes

is neither moral (inward) nor mystical (up) but without love projected forward in time (written narrativity)

prayer and politics are not on the same page: one implicates one supplicates there/you is a site not a destination in/up is E turnity E ever explicates moral inwardness establishes the parameters PM political exhibitionism obliterates pleasure/bliss is sex w/o love religion is love w/o sex [sublime vs. sublimation: needs sublation] to repent denying/affirming at once is the turning: away from the para-modern

Barthes states the premise of never making a denial and of the logical crux of contradiction, along with the necessity of the Impossible, that it is

and outward in space (the possible reader) moral inward conflict (as opposed to difference) and mystical elation out of, over and above, conflict the dialectical outcome of conflict depend on love love is the reason for the conquering of self in the moral conflict and the abandonment of self in mystic height the going forward and going outward involves no turning but the inward and outward require it turning metanoia is at heart opposed to all of the parameters of PM (not post- but para-modern)

I, on the other hand, but not otherwise, see the necessity of denial as the only basis of affirmation: there is yes if and only if there is no while accepting the truth of contradiction in the logic of the Impossible and the abandonment of the need for consistency: which is to say, all things are possible: the Impossible is impossible.

Genesis and Revelation

The loss of a sense of origin and the end of things is apparent at the finale. History must be seen as having a point of departure and a goal in order to be history, the story as such, which can be temporal or organized according to another logic, but which must have definite limits, as does the Bible, the pattern of all books. Where we come from must be where we are going. The break-up of the book itself is part of the loss, connected by hyper-connectivity to the subtraction of the beginning and ending, witnessed already in the modernist valorization of the middle of things, the in medias res epic, which became an end in itself in the PM, an infinite regress that cannot be crossed, an unsearchable wasteland, a void filled with tracks, traces and signs, neither pointing and indicating, nor expressing and conveying, but simply standing in the place of the place itself. Imagination creates the pattern. Patterns are not just connections produced, valued as an end in themselves, and multiplied to no purpose, but relationships comprehended, giving one understanding of the truth which is inherent in the structure of the whole and the part. That there is no longer a whole, and therefore no longer any parts, so that every part has become a whole in itself, is the legacy of the PM. This contradiction, learned from the logics of reading and writing, has displaced time and order as the fulfillment of the prophecies concerning the ultimate. Christ is the alpha and omega, and without Him we can do nothing, which explains the absence of Christ in

the ultimately political and financial culture and discourse today. That there be no end to the power struggle of parties, in principle, or to the exaggeration of wealth derived from theft and exploitation, are the unfortunate outcomes of the end of history, when history ceased to be historical.

The News

Is that despite our insatiable thirst, we are drinking salty water from an ocean of lies and corruption that purports to inform and describe and explain ourselves, our lives and our time. The news is that there is nothing man-made that is new, just variations on themes invented long ago. That the invention may have been immemorial. That invention was not ours. That we try to re-invent. That we merely copy the past, but advertise it as our new world. That God is ever new is no longer news. The true new cannot be bought or sold, cannot be manipulated, is grace, is mercy, is life, the holiness and righteousness of God. That we make ourselves experts in our own demise. That we have eliminated the principle of Authority: every one is author, there is no Author. So ungovernable, we will seek a last desperate rule. It may be global or tribal, capitalistic or a facetious fascism. Then our end will be near. The church led the way in this, and the influence of the world on the church cuts both ways, and the model of the dominion has already been copied. Yet, be not disconsolate, desolate, or late. Belated we are, but really arriving just in time.

We seek to begin again, sometimes, and God tells us it is so. That one may by the grace of God make a radical break, with everything you were and knew, and all who knew you, for the one thing that is your destiny, is the thing that the Impossible could never make impossible. As long as there is the possibility of possibility, which God alone knows and gives, we may still think, and pray, and love. Now this is news that will never grow old. And a word that is needed in the life of the world today. The news so-called by its own definition will and must pass away, replaced by more news, the news ever flowing. But God is waiting in the very same waters to baptize us and forgive us and love us forever.

Symbols The speculative begins and ends in the realm of the symbol, which as has been said, gives rise to the thought. That every symbol implies an explication means that in the folds of things that have meaning are possibilities that both open and close our understandings. Open because they allow reading and therefore the possibility of learning, and close because the

limit case of comprehension is a grasping that cannot grasp itself, on the one hand, and which must let go, turn loose, of itself, in order to be grasped, not by any and every other, but by the one truth, the incomprehensible that comprehends us as we are, making us comprehensible to ourselves in principle, though sometimes knowledge is deferred or denied. That the symbol divides itself in two, in the etymological sense of the word symbol, indicates a brokenness, an incompleteness, in fact, which in principle is already complete and whole. Symbol systems are always derived from other systems, which seems to deny origins, as does our understanding of language, which cannot be incomplete, but which as has been shown, and in contradiction to this, has some radical incompleteness lodged in the heart of every state of affairs. We did not invent the remedy that God provides. We sought Him,

hidden in things, and have perpetually found and lost Him over and over again, the Absolute, the cause and goal of the search, the guard and guide of life, that than without which nothing can be conceived, in which we live and move and have our meaning, making symbolic actions, which we sometimes dimly perceive in truth, but which we believe have a definite value for God, where we hope our works will always be written in the book of eternal narrative, a place in which our roles, written, are read, by all of us, actors and audience, at the discretion of sole Authority.

Michael Bolerjack Vocabulary of God 1 Pure Idea of Good God YHWH Word Lord 2 Pure Idea of Love Michael Gabriel Raphael Adam Eve Abel Job Abraham Babel Jacob Judah Levi Gad Caleb David Pharaoh Elijah Jeremiah Ezekiel Joel Micah Habakkuk Malachi Ezra Zechariah Zachariah Mary Mark Luke Good Thief Paul Jude Homer Virgil Mohammed Al Farabi Al Ghazali Rumi Abraham Abulafia William of Ockham Galileo Baal Shem Jacob Boehme George Berkeley David Hume William Cowper William Blake George William Friedrich Hegel Ludwig Feuerbach Karl Marx Leopold Bloom Molly Bloom HCE ALP Torah Zohar Philokalia 3 Pure Idea of Life A Priori Real Ideal Greek Jew Arab Bible Book Reveal Ark Flood Proverb Parable Prophecy Sura Hegira Caliph Baghdad Mecca Kaaba Hallowed Thy Come Home Give Forgive Lead Deliver Holy Family Love Hope Cloud Dark Fire Flame Lamp Pray Preach Heal Live Die Compel Implore Provide Proof Image Kyrie Gloria Credo Hear Word Will Memory Follow Rabbi Kabbalah Look Back Up Above Chebar Merkebah Law Work Judge Believe Womb Veil We Me He You Him Her Our Hour Make Have Do Be Free Dream Way World Power Rome Empire Whore Pope Devil Rebel Hell Who Where Why How For By From Whom Church Pleroma Elder Bridge Blood Peace Crux Calvary Bread Bride Groom Wife Mercy Miracle Body Proclaim Prevail Marriage Upper Room Rich Poor River of Life Day of Yahweh Good Evil Pure Holy Glory Grace Year of Our Lord Yom Kippur People of God Jubilee Year Good Friday Alpha Omega I Am

The Recrucifixion of Christ in the Modern World

Division I The Makings of Theology Part 1 They are recrucifying Christ in the modern world Part 2 You have been given temptations Part 3 Altar and visibility Division II Making the Theologian Part 1 You are doing it for the church Part 2 They are confused, they do not understand my mercy Part 3 The loss of so much joy Part 4 Have mercy

Meaning and Experience, Part 1

Michael Bolerjack

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; and I am greatly pleased with my inheritance. Psalm 16: 6

I dedicated Myself to God though I did Delay: Lord forgive.

I dedicate this Work to the priests I have known And to another:

This book is for a Teacher: A sister in God: Paula Jean Miller.

In the end I did Not avoid the truth you taught And you still believe.

I believed: Therefore I spoke: Tell all the truth but Tell it slant: in this

I could tell all my Truth and nothing but the Truth: As you helped me God.

Texts are woven things: This was a coat of many Colors: as given.

So be thankful for The colors given and His Light by which we see.

Pure mind and pure heart: An old man limping laughing Sees the tree at dusk.

Four sisters and I Standing in the lake alone: What is covenant?

Neither monk nor lay A man went this way living Life in His presence.

Flowers drooping heads In dryness await the rain Without meaning to.

Meaning is absent But experience is known By presence itself.

The experience And the meaning come apart In silence not known.

Interpretations Always miss the mark; always Miss experience.

The fact of the light: More than words can say: empties Me of self and sense.

Silence and meaning Are not part of a system But are not opposed.

The mystic moment Misunderstood passed me by As I read a book.

[envois] and heavy [envois] Men in cities avoid truth In their neighbors eyes.

Around the table We discussed meaning and life Despite our heartbeats.

The pain of living And the joy of finding out Push and pull again.

I could not keep it But silence knew what to do And this bubbled up.

No reconstruction As I stand beneath the sky: Just the light in air.

No birds trace the way: Trackless expanse of Heaven Unstained and unfeigned.

Quiet nights and peace: Afternoons playing at sums: Balance in my hand.

Young men chase each thing Across the green yard of life: Feeling faces lit.

Without knowing how And without meaning to know Yet life too chose me.

Under stars without I stood and pointed to one Inventing meaning.

The reinvention That happens naturally Is the best of all.

Supernatural The battle for the faith: Wrinkles in my flesh.

Look over and see Beyond yonder wall the man Who died just to be.

Gracious and godly The opening in me yawned But did not swallow.

They gauge the outcome But all matter is a way To experience.

Without leaving: still The distant married lands came And shone silent love.

The tree itself void Of meaning offers endless views For watching sunset.

At night without art Without catching a thing I Turn to you in sleep.

The leaf seeks not ground Nor attachment to the tree branch But simply abides.

Who am i? I ask Not knowing the master plan: The really Real.

Separate from me Reality dwells apart But within me yet.

Men and women cross Themselves in hope of finding A child between them.

The mountain abides Yet there is peace in the vale And heights cause a fall.

Stumbling level ground: Step after step following: The walker crosses.

Neither height nor depth Nor any other thing stands Between You and I.

Behind us nothing: Between us everything else: We communicate.

Summer Autumn Spring All delight but bare Winter Lies secret within.

The emptiness here Where I once was: now not I But peace perfect peace.

If you choose or not Yet you are chosen: Abide In Him and be It.

To be free of this: To this be free here and now: There is no secret.

Words about words fail But the peace of light reaches Filling the darkness.

Light itself empties Yet fills all things not knowing And without intent.

Simply breathing air Is what he did: also this: Some rose and some fell.

The impossible Is the only thing worth our Attempt: Yes we can.

Forget all structure Because form is not the One: When you as you are.

If the tree could see He would see not light but the Other trees nearby.

Lacking sight not light The blindness of men is this: They looked away.

They say peace someday: But I say peace if you will: Be yourself right now.

Shadows do not hide But we hide in them because We want to forget.

When you awake Everything is beautiful: Even homely words.

Too much instruction: We sign and we sign without Our feet on the ground.

Universities Created the meaning but For a mundane love.

If you could touch me I would neither indicate Nor express meaning.

After the heart breaks We learn to sing the blues out Yet the wound remains.

Almost out of breath I ran to meet you smiling With disheveled hair.

Cross yourself again And find your directions in The silent imprint.

Neither cold nor wet I am yet the hungry dog Standing at your door.

I met you at church And what we became was more Than that: Life itself.

Yesterday I drank And you filled me with travel Taking me away.

In joyful wisdom Neither rational nor not: Whiskey and Women.

If music were words It would lose its emptiness And begin to mean.

The heart must empty Before it can fill with blood: In rhythms we live.

Crossing the river I saw an island in mist Without being there.

The dry: The empty: The desert full of wisdom: The place of testing.

It doesnt matter What color her eyes or skin: But can she forget?

If I stayed longer It would be to love you more: Without fear or care.

If I care too much I will not let you ascend To where you must be.

He showed me the way And we placed our crosses In Jerusalem.

A city I see Unlike any other one: If only love builds.

Remember me then Once or twice in the wake Till we meet again.

Not understanding I loved I knew not what yet Love itself was true.

I loved you without Concepts ideas or things But in the living.

Meaningful research Does not combine others words In new arrangements.

My father appeared: Traveled everywhere he went: In ashes he blew.

My wife came so far: So far from her home seeking For something somewhere.

Our city ruined We rebuilt with trowel and Sword: our two arms full.

I always loved you For you were with me before In the dream I had.

Only yesterday I had a glimpse of life and knew Without meaning.

To carry something For somebody: Charity Brings unending Grace.

What is past is past And yet without forgetting We invent our life.

In discovery Without searching or meaning We will love again.

Too much straitening Causes order to structure Chaos completely.

If I could sing you Without words or intention Then you would love me.

Lived experience Escapes meaning giving thanks Morning and evening.

Lovers and deamers And madmen like I speak No image: one Word.

Without cognition: To be the substance itself Is finding Truth.

Without losing hope Yet without expectation: Wait and wait again.

Nothing behind us: Nothing is what it seems and You already are.

I fell into Grace The only way I knew how: By being broken.

Light absolutely Breaks and scatters the darkness We are despite love.

If I try to be I am not: but sitting still He found me alone.

A dark night ordeal I could not count the [envois] so Black in my own mind.

Salvation saw me Sitting still beneath a tree And He called to me.

He empties Himself And shows a way that cannot Make sense to the world.

He sang his own song Yet given from above InComprehensible.

Touch me in pity: Find a heart beneath my mind: Now: without passion.

In breathing I am In all things respiring in Him and He in me.

When not if He comes He will find faith in cities That we did not burn.

When not if He comes Only His words will matter: Not our constructions.

When not if He comes Every Buddha will clap hands While sinners rejoice.

Mindful without thought Children play and old men dream: Life itself goes on.

Victory is not Simple assertion and yet It must be disclosed.

I learned despite not Knowing and I gained more than An education.

After I was shot It took 20 years to die But now I can live.

A man all in black Said very well and fine but What do you do now?

The compass caught north And despite direction lost The future beyond.

Put your right shoe on First and the rest will follow Of its own accord.

She found the water Without a bucket or well: Life itself happened.

He said keep dancing To your own drummer so I went on my way.

If you cant sit still You must run until you walk: Then you will allow.

Allowance found me Alone on my bed without Expecting a thing.

I lived on sheer faith Climbing the cliff face without Any skill but hope.

O little children If I could only free you: But you must free yourselves.

O men of eighty If I could restore your life: You would not let me.

Women O Women: You and you and you: without Your knowing I died.

Keep alive the dream Especially while awake: Let your feet not stray.

Will your love survive Without understanding why? I say better yet.

The double-edge sword Cuts this way and that slicing The knot of knowledge.

If I could be you I would still be me only Without the desire.

Language fails because It means too much: the Truth is Still and in stillness.

I had a feeling There was literature here But could not find it.

Without a purpose The tradition is taught you While you inform it.

Educationless To the nth degree I read Life backwards fading.

Some people work in The Church while others pray for A Kingdom to come.

I will come with you: Wherever you go I will Be there before you.

Without certainty Universities will fail: Yet You are the Truth.

The light that breaks us Is more than we could have hoped: Every knee will bend.

I have spent more time I have wasted more money Than [envois].

Forgive me for this It is not to be allowed: I almost told you.

Out of the depths cry Words that indicate without Expressing the truth.

All we can do is All we can do and not much: Will it be enough?

With fear and trembling And in joy and hope we live: With what will we die?

Is bad love better Than no love at all? It seems That time of season.

I was always wrong But turning left one more time I arrived at peace.

Vain is all seeking And yet when He finds you then You are truly found.

Look not here nor there Still less within: if He knocks Do not be afraid.

Stranger in the night Announced again and again: Still He surprised me.

Pierced to the marrow: My heart was ready for death And even for Him.

The sun will come up On us tomorrow always: God willing it so.

I saw an old friend And exclaimed at the species: One in a million.

All are lost but so That all may be found: we are One in salvation.

Good and evil were My limits but without them I reached out to you.

Without meaning to Means I cannot make a claim: I am what I am.

I intend no thing: Neither play nor purpose nor Approximation.

Becoming simpler Is not simple but involves A winding detour.

In our labyrinths In our selves we lose the way Till it shows itself.

The Revelation Who God is and who you are: Inseparable.

Nobody knows why But we stumble trip fall and Find it anyway.

Felix culpa is The great truth of life because Humility is.

Pure mind and pure heart: To love the Good without guile: How simple: How hard:

Pure mind and pure heart: To forget yourself for love: How necessary.

Unbecoming mind: Mindfulness without grasping: Hard the narrow way.

My wife and I climbed Kilimanjaro today And touched butterflies.

After the poem Has been interpreted what Remains of silence?

Structurality Must be grounded in something Autrement: Freedom.

Meaning plus music Allows freedom that mere play Can never afford.

The deconstruction Cannot deconstruct silence: Mystic effraction.

Circular meanings Implicate endlessly but The silence escapes.

Neither expression Nor indication: music And silence vibrate.

The crisis passes: Minds allow each other more Than bodies can know.

Without conventions: Neither seize nor know the day: Simply release it.

Poets cannot know Anything but write their verses Any way to live.

Writers write: fish swim: Some people cook their food and Some eat their food raw.

To get at the thing You must uncover it and In this words can help.

The blue butterfly (for instance) in his pathless Flight lit on my hand.

I eternally hold A hand at no striving [envois] And yet it happens.

It did not mean to And I did not know meaning Itself afterwards.

Angela the saint Suffered me in the holy Creativity.

To be there with it Beneath sky-high waterfalls Was without meaning.

But it had event Written in it and a hand Greeting not grasping.

Explanation Will not do and description Never tells the truth.

Alain Badiou Wrote the truth is like saying Keep going forward!

To adequate Christ And Buddha: Empty within: Everything is grace.

The way is of Christ And we all walk on that way Though some walk away.

Dharma way also Is Christian: Buddha made no Claim against the Truth.

One way all [envois] But no one is the actor: Deny yourself: Yes.

He did not mean you Must suffer but meant you must Die: Unless a seed

But we suffer though We need not: because of love. Compassionate One!

Christ nailed to the tree: Buddha meditating on Suffering beneath.

Both take on and put Off perishibility: Both arise awake.

Buddha in glory: Jesus ran His race well: In both completion.

Resurrection is: I must decrease: He is here: No actor: All: All.

God is all in all So He had to die to be Completed in us.

Not that God Himself Needed to be completed: It was for our sakes.

Subjectless without Object there is no is-ness But simply presence.

I am not present Nor can I be shown in your Representations.

What is not present Cannot be shown to you in Representations.

Representations Are not: images are not: You and I are not.

God is all in all: Without structure or being: He is this movement.

It is a hard thing To deny yourself for Him: Yes: He is: not I.

I am not I AM: I am does not anymore: He abundantly.

The cross is in this: Realization consists Of denying self.

I mean that I am: Experience is other: I AM does not mean.

Meaningful research Into self reveals nothing At bottom but God.

I am illusion: Whatever depends is not: He is in my hand.

I cannot be me But there is nothing else but To be me here now.

What is here and how In denying self empties Itself into Him.

Neither I am nor That thou art: but even less Solipsistic sense.

Meaning always means I am but in self denied Experience is.

The cleavage is real: Paradoxically real: Reality IS.

God is not only The Most Real but the only One Who IS: despite:

Despite language games: Philosophizing reasons: Desires: Lusts: Pleasures.

Sense is not non-sense: Reality exceeds both: The absolute IS.

Awareness is real: Jesus as man felt the pain For our pain was His.

He was at the point And broke through all suffering In contradiction.

Buddhas in ascent: Christ descended into hell: All is redemption.

The teacher instructs By various ways and means To light up our minds.

Lamps unto our feet Guides to our paths: meaningful To the moral faith.

But experience Of Buddha and Christ is not Found in their meanings.

God is undefined: No propositions in God: De-limit the mind.

Find the beginning: Where I end is where He is: I must decrease.

Words are not yet Him And writers neither lose Him nor Find His meaning.

The writer seeks not Meaning not expression but An experience.

The trap of writing Is that it is illusion And does not mirror.

Referring to self It fails: but we are not it: The Lord uses us.

On the battleground Minds are lost and won and more Won in the losing.

When you fail you know: You know you do not know and Must stop trying to.

Desks are poor things full Of papers and ambition: Here I sit not-I.

Old boy what seek ye? Truth is not illusion but Knowing is just that.

Truth cannot be known: Truth is then when I am not: How can it be known?

I allow (lets say) By emptiness a space for Truth to emerge in.

Detached: dismantled: Words are the last delusion: He did not SAY it.

He did not tell us Repeat after me but this: Deny: and: Follow.

Following does not Mean anything: it is the Act of walking with.

In walking with Him We have sympathy and in This is understanding.

Many have told us What He meant: What did He do? He emptied Himself.

Vessels of light are Not full but empty so that The light may fill them.

The blind do not know The light despite accurate Explanation: Because:

The experience Of light itself acts like light: Light has no meaning.

What makes meaning is The thing that is like the sun: Was Derrida right?

Poverty dumbstruck: Meaninglessness rather than All these useless words.

Abide: dwell: silent: Avoid speaking vanity Of all the vain things.

We are: already: Useful words are words that use Themselves for climbing.

Do not rebuild it: Let it lie: release it; Gone: Lovers: in love forgetting.

Reconcile yourself To Him in forgetting that Once I was I AM.

HE WHO IS is that Absolutely: vanity To replace His place.

Literature is Still the tower of babble: Brick on brick on brick.

God did not do it: He does not but is beyond Our little towers.

Not analogy: But He will substantiate: Transcendent in us.

Not even being: That is interpretation: Withdrawal of self.

Meaning is order: To experience again My meaninglessness.

However much I I seem to persist: My will Meaning intention.

At some point the thing Approaches in silent notes And music happens.

We walked up and down: We roamed the butterfly fields At the mountains edge.

The butterflies seem Erratic: wandering: not Lost: but Bliss is Bliss.

No point than to live: Till then my hand there appeared: Another moment.

I meant nothing: say It was not my intention: Say something happened.

It was as she wished: We went somewhere and we did Something: yet did not.

We believe all things: We rejoice in the day of The Lord: we are glad.

That night I awoke: I said there is something that Is outside of me.

[envois]

There is something there Outside of me and allowing Myself the stillness.

The butterfly IS: A hand was extended and Then something happened.

What? I cannot say Because it cannot be said Without a meaning.

If I seem to say It is only an illusion: I have not said IT.

Buddha and Jesus Lived IT: said words to be heard More real by witness.

Light and all shadow Approximate the seasons: Jesus died in Spring.

I trust in this fact: The Promise: He will come take Us soon to Heaven.

We too with Buddhas In glory and Christ in light To resound in song.

God sings Himself in Us: through us: for us: and we Give Him instruments.

Truth asks nothing more Than that it be sung: I say Even these stones sing.

Even my mountain Cries out and will not let still: Harmony allows.

Allow Jesus to Sing His song in you: never A song of myself.

In absolute peace The greatest songs are silent: Becoming seemless.

Jesus died in Spring: Look at the flowers around And see Him growing.

Without deception Following butterflies Will also lead you.

They sing the same song Without words without knowing Without notation.

The meaning (again) Impose suppose interpret: The butterfly IS.

It is we who mean And we who sing but not the Butterflies who fly.

Each blue dash and dart Simply was and I was not: And yet I may be.

A billion writers With their streaming meanings still Cannot make you fly.

If you do you will Do so by your love: a Love without knowing.

Neither hand will know The exchange of self for God Or when you took flight.

The dignity of Us is in our willing not Our own but others.

To take flight cannot Mean anything until you Fly: less even then.

Stable but shifting: The words mean something but a Butterfly wants more.

Simple clarity And words about what happened: Discernment required.

The paradox IS: We efface ourselves when we Realize ourselves.

Never imitate: Dont just sit there and stare at Him: See the truth: He IS.

Never imitate: Be: when you are yourselves then You no longer are.

One above behind Us all behind all signs and Things makes us: Believe.

In belief hearts are In sacrifice of self torn That we give the gift.

All I have is yours: When you give yourself to Him How can you remain?

Neither I and I Nor Every Other even But beyond all that.

I will never know: When I know I will then cease To exist as I.

No mystery: Then Why so few reach for knowledge Knowing they will cease.

We will destruction Of the world rather than this: Let God be you now.

And we would rather Speak a streaming discourse: I: than not be I.

Yet I will not be: Why not now? Why not by Him? We say by His grace.

Even without [envois] Or effort at the right time It simply happens.

Though trials there to be And the fight of ceaseless war The peace is: still IS.

And the war is won Not by surrender but [envois] By coming onslaught.

Just be the peace and See: no will: no mind: no one: Radiant presence.

Still dismantle me As talk continues to be: Continues to see.

Talk now less and less As monks learn to teach an all Through whelming silence.

Poor butterflies: rich In poverty taking no Thing but simple flight.

I saw them make love: In natural attraction With us by their side.

But they (who can say Why) flew away leaving us To interpret them.

Butterfly lovers: Us and them: in all we are: And in love finding.

For compassion IS: To give a home and blessing: To find the right time.

To not dwell alone: Neither dwell without meaning: We finding outside.

When I am not-I Then suddenly there is THIS: A world surrounding.

Jacques said the context Is the meaning: Nothing can Carry it: but be.

We absent ourselves [envois] Until transformation.

Stepping outward bound We are almost are that Glory: Yet not us alone.

Glory means nothing If I glorify myself: Give glory to God!

He the essential: I the passing: memories Will not be mounting.

On the one mountain There is but glory alone: Let it be: enough.

Versification Is the conversion of I Into the not-I.

Experience is Not this: Experience is Forgetting to mean.

Buddha on his side And Jesus on the cross died: Yet they did not die.

Buddhas mindfulness And Christian suffering are Not polarities.

Experience first After suffering before Teaching us the way.

Experience last Through suffering in order To teach us the way.

Truth is the only Thing left to see: Whatever Is not is not real.

Life is a vector Moving in a direction Without [envois].

Associations: Come together fall apart: Particularly words.

Mirrors of the real They are not real but seem: True propositions.

Neither description Nor explanation will do: I am not an I.

If language distorts: Vehicles of metaphor: Words are not useless.

Convey your belief: We are separate and so We still try to say.

Just this separateness Falls into the signs of what Plato called the Gap.

Between the ideal And the real is the shadow Which cannot be said.

We lovers till then: Love us by separation: To jump the abyss.

Love is our meaning Yet in our experience We find what love is.

Not only feeling But in the ground of being: Love creates our need.

Pounding out the hours We would set sail out of love: For love: toward love.

And we stand still Stranded on the shore waiting For better relief.

There is one to come And He wipes away all tears In our dark sainthood.

And we climb the steps: We shake off the need of pride For the one virtue.

What IS simply IS: When you become you will be: But we always wait.

The kingdom is now: When we realize it we Show ourselves kingship.

He is still within: Find after your I am the I AM THAT I AM.

I am not: He IS: My I am is an echo Of the great I AM.

Imagination Is the fool of time [envois] To good and evil.

Knowledge must be: Yet In the Phantasm we know Nothing but ourselves.

Dont let me be proud: Lord make me an instrument Steady in your hand.

Death will not hold us If we submit to Your will: Lord make me humble.

God is my shepherd: I have wanted nothing but Needed discipline.

My Lord and My God! I did it all for God and For her: for she IS.

For God and for her: For in perfect wisdom the Virgins know God best.

In my unknowing I wandered from the way and Almost lost my faith.

Yet Gods gifts and His Call are irrevocable: He did not let me.

These shards of meaning Professing experience Miss the mark of Him.

He is the Most High: Where others thought ideas Of infinity:

Indefinitely Exposing the word to their Criticism-shame.

The truth about that thing Called deconstruction is the Fact men loved a lie.

They loved a lie and Worshipped themselves rather than The creator God.

Glory is but sight Cleansed of what I cannot be: The I I am not.

In perfect vision Behold the man where He stands Bleeding in judgment.

Then He gave glory: Crucified and Glorified: Him who died for you.

Overcome evil with Good in peace with great patience: Despite the minds thoughts.

Do not be afraid: All beings attend on you: Salvation is near.

He saved me drowning: Some rise and some fall: amazed The abyss buoys.

Buddha walked a lot As did Christ to His crossing: Their words still travel.

By example they Set out the better truths like Plato immortal.

On one above we Depend: return to the source: Be not dismantled.

For surely He comes: Be neither afraid nor doubt His voice calling you.

Once again build up: Let yourself in uprightness Bow low before Him.

When you came apart You still saw the meanings that Were meant to save you.

They were not words to The deaf but eyesight to the Blind in His Blessing.

[envois]

Both stand in the truth: One speaks IT the other IS: Christ thy name is Love.

I am not my own Light and I cannot see you Without Him my lamp.

If we could see Him In one another how could We cease believing?

There are directions And if you follow them you Will not fall away.

Stay on the path and Walk more surely than before And gospel yourself.

They once said that we Un do: let go: that truth is Always already.

But I say hold on And never give up nor yet Give in to release.

Atonement is not Imagination which Is but I the Fool.

If I had known the Truth sooner I would have must Have written elsewhere.

The really Real can Be seen in the weather: But Experience Him.

Find the one you know Who opens the clouds without Any force but light.

Buddha said look past Me: but Pilate said Behold The Man: Jesus Christ.

Truth will never stray: Truth returns to the place of Illumination.

There is but one light: We all see by that one fire: We all shine with it.

Words take on the dark: But how white the pages and Smooth their reception.

You must be that page: Allow the inscrutable To inscribe itself.

Pages of marvel That turn to ash easily: Yet His words remain.

[envois]

Persist! Then: Persist! There is no happiness but In overcoming.

Since He opened you You cannot close again but Sometimes you still try.

God is the one who Teaches: His reign is rain: Soak Me with all Your Truth.

Once I sat still and Waited on the arrival: It seemed forever.

More! More butterflies! More mountains to climb! Without Memory to see them.

Words are more and less And the truth is in meaning But we lack the means.

Or do we? He gives His Word unfailing and He Must be spoken through.

Do not see me write: Do not imagine the scene: You already write.

You are my event And I am your pretext for Good criticism.

Dissolution is The acid word of the man Who deconstructs you.

Let yourself shine then: By the light: not in a dark Night of this writing

But in the dark night Of the soul embraced by God Who is your Author.

You are not the thing Itself and cannot know it: But it has always

Known you and me in Our medicine and artless: Our pretty sinning.

Alone to alone: But never alone I heard Him call me by name.

Relationship is Not false in itself because We are all in Him.

Did you think that you Could lose yourself without then Losing Him as well?

Mortal blindness! Fool! I am that very man that You are without Him.

Once I did seem real But got over it after The enlightenment.

Enlightenment is Without a doubt and yet Not what people think.

Patience (the great thing) Means only you hold what you Have been given: Gifts

From above because Despite what you have been told: You cannot save you.

The gift of presence Simply is experience: The meaning of life.

For instance I say: Birds sing despite our sighing And do not let up.

After your heart breaks You must still sing like the birds: Never letting up.

There is no middle Way but a narrow one that Hurts: still you must sing!

I once sang a song Knowing not what but it was Noise and weariness.

What you are you are But do not ignore the law Written thou shall not.

Know thyself its said And it is still good to learn: But only in Him.

After descent to Your vilest depth look up and See Christ in Glory.

Only by knowing The difference will I know The truth of my world.

There is an ancient Enemy without and one Within: Guard yourself!

I was never for Hire and did not earn a days Wage: may God forgive.

I hope: I hope He Will forgive my ignorance Thinking that I knew.

Jesus went into The desert in order to Be tempted! And win!

You have been given Temptations in order to Secure victory.

Not for fun nor for Punishment are you tempted But to overcome.

The experience Or meaning of the waste land Is not metaphor.

You must live it for Yourself if you will conquer The evil and sin.

As well as that of Living without the knowledge Of the truth He is.

Like anyone else I must climb from ignorance To understanding.

I must learn to fight: Myself and all that stands in The way of my goal.

If the world writes me Badly I will rewrite the Script and improvise.

Truth is His stillness But also truth calls to me From the very storm.

Truth does not cease in Pursuit of me though I still Run the other way.

It is a good thing God loves us so much and that He never gives up.

Abandon ourselves To God and we will not fail To arrive on time.

It was not in vain I once read of the Buddha Because [envois].

My journey to the East was over and I came Around to my truth.

Do not mistake the Finger pointing at the moon For the moon itself.

But neither should i Fail to read the signs of the Times I am living.

There is something loose In the world the world does not Know: the antichrist.

We think we know it But we have no idea of What it means to do.

I said it once And I will say it again: Yet Christ will abide.

If I may return: The argument of the text Is: just simply be.

Coming to be and Passing away are the truth Buddha would escape.

Do not fight your own Suffering but do not look Away to avoid.

In poverty I Found meaning did not mean to: I am not empty.

But only Francis And a few others loved Her; Lady Poverty.

The kingdom is not Of meaning nor is it a Senselessness: it IS.

The word means more than Meaning as a concept contains; A Sheer Abundance

That chose poverty Instead in order to be With us forever.

To live as we live: To take our meaninglessness And give us what IS.

But we stick with a Meaning that amounts to our Own deconstruction.

There is more to say But what IS always takes time: Even the eternal.

I wont look into The abyss too long since I looked into you.

The book lay open: No one there to read the signs: The means fell away.

Trees grow toward light But find in the black earth the Other half of life.

I grew toward Him Out of sinful soil and love For the Autrement.

But turning away From my bad beginning, I Look toward what I found.

Waterfall above: Butterfly at hand: You stood Too: essentially ajar.

Neither this nor that Life is not [envois] Nor is it a thing itself.

To descry meaning Once more in the name of life Is simply senseless.

The scatter pattern: Butterflies and the little Flower remind me.

Is enlightenment Life without meaning or the Experience of

Meaninglessness that Is still a reason to believe Despite the nonsense?

God still gives to us Meanings never lost again But asks our catching.

If I look for that I will never find that: Thou art not That when

That is the lie of Eden: that you are Gods and That I made myself.

Through enlightenment The darkest deconstruction! Am I the measure?

I think I will yet Empty myself of conceit And write for the Lord.

Then without knowing: With a hand trained to obey Discover His truth.

Anticipation And His fullness may yet be My own completion.

The Buddha said he Was always at beginning And so too am I

He would save the worlds From suffering by killing Passions and desires.

Whether there is an End to suffering or not Is not the issue:

I risk pain for love: I must affirm life as IS And love it anyway.

The experience Of pain may not have meaning But accessing love.

An experience Buddha thought was meaningless Is the means to love.

Christ chose it Himself Out of love, not to buy back, But drink it all down.

And to show me how I can love too both because And despite the pain.

Even though the Buddha Did not die and stopped the wheel Yet the world still turns.

And churches come and Churches go in the name of Christ But no kingdom come.

They did not live in Vain but their lives are not yet Understood by me.

Perhaps so I might Someday understand when I Have learned how to love.

I suffer to love And almost love to suffer As priests tell us to.

Forget not Buddha Neither Christ nor what was their One experience:

Complete emptiness: The way up and the way down Are one and the same.

The obedience Of love is greater than faith And love can also

Empty you of self: Only empty of self can I Carry the abyss.

If I could love you I would find in you the way To experience.

And yes: the meaning: The one word of harmony: My reason to be.

Something more I see In the truth of the person That you are likely:

Another Buddha, Beneath the tree: or asking Christ the cross relieve

Our sins so we may love To forget our meaningless Lived experience.

I think I too thirst Like Christ though I am no saint And need not freedom:

For freedom is not The one thing necessary: So then why not love?

Judgment in the way Of the way we would love to: Choice desire indicts.

All religions are One: to choose between them is Admission of guilt.

Guilty of the lack Of love based on judging truth Without acceptance.

Do not choose what to Believe: election requires Your being chosen.

Just try not to hurt People on the way to where You are going to.

Am I bothersome? I am too full of advice: But I think I know.

The impossible God does the impossible: Made me so poor rich.

That I would give Him: Paying attention is my Way to pray in thanks.

To write the meaning Of meaninglessness is To exemplify.

In paradox I write: For I cannot say what the Butterfly would say:

If wings were words and She traced sentences in the Air instead of beauty.

Meaning is judgment But experience beauty Without copula.

If you have much to Give then give it all away From exuberance.

May God help me speak Without judgment though I think I have seen the worst.

Let no false love nor Parody of Catholic Theology reign.

I wrote poetry Thinking I was in [envois] But love was not yet there

For otherwise why Not stay on the mountain with The blue butterfly?

Searching: possessing Lies I thought were truth I was Leading her away.

I could not say I Experimented with her Beauty as Nietzsche

Did with the old truths: And at least experience Called out a warning.

The life is passing: For a moment it is there and then it is forever:

Gone: a memory: Is that what butterflies are To become for you?

But I did not know how To love the blue butterfly: She could have been God.

Missing the meaning I held to experience Trapped in my own self.

Contradictions are Sometimes true but why did I Make it my arche?

I was but a text And caught in my own writing Effortlessly drowned.

Until He called halt! I turned and became aware Of what I was not.

Which is simply put Everything: everything else: The world I am not.

My dream of something Outside of me was just the Leading vision seen.

Oh to write truly Of the plainest things I once Did not care about

And not lose His love In self-absorbed exhaustion And in the ceaseless

Search to say what I Could never say any way I Might have tried: that is:

Let me not feign a Meaning while at the same time Saying there is none.

Why not become Light? There is only one story: It is not about me.

The clever boy is Lost in the meaning of his Meaning not knowing.

The clever boy is Obscured by the brilliance that Others meant to say.

Another boy would Wait and not forget: patient Longing yet without

Rushing past the signs Of love which all have meaning To Him who made them.

God is good: God alone Is good: what does this mean now Seen from another

Point of view? It means: At least I can say this much: I know God is Good.

To know something is Different from not knowing: I said I did not

And I really did Not: but I thought that I did: I was a burden.

I am not the light That I must experience In order to know.

I said light does not Mean anything and yet by It we know all things.

But I know that light Is good: I know it: that light Is the light of men.

The darkness cannot Comprehend it and I was In complete darkness

Yet I was writing Of my own enlightenment: Could I be more wrong?

The light is glory: The very thing called into Question by darkness.

I did not know how Complicit was my blindness With what I held true.

The glory of God: Deconstruction and roman Deconsecration seek

Their own glory in An anticipation of Antichrists to come.

They will use any Means to erase meaning: the Simulation of.

I did not see that Meaning and experience Are not opposed but

Complement: they are Not absence against presence But ways of knowing

Truth: by their fruits you Shall know them: the meaning Of experience

For a catholic Is simply the sacraments: But does God need them?

Who benefits from the Catholic economy? Only Catholics.

I loved that little Blue butterfly that landed On my fingertip

And had the very Experience in itself But missed the meaning.

He was a signal: A messenger: the way that God said I love you.

I turned his sign of Love inside-out and said it Had no meaning as such:

That the event did Not respire with a meaning Because there is none:

No meaning as such But that the butterfly IS And to be is not

To mean but to be Another kind of higher Emptiness: the Void.

And now the Roman Church is to be made void and With it the world too.

Both of these abysses Of the deconstruction and The deconsecration

Are places that light will Not reach: deepest darkest Hell: black but on fire.

These terrible things Still mean something: they are rich: Because they ruin truth.

Without truth there will Be no more spiritual World, and without it:

No more world of the Material either: for [envois]

Not just the world that Followed the deconstruction And deconsecration:

But no more worlds to Follow: more void than Buddhas Realm: kingdom undone.

So I look back on The world of the time I touched The blue butterfly.

How much I did not Know of things to come when that World would seem a dream

And dwell with the God In unapproachable light: While the context of

The blue butterfly That gives to experience The meaning divine

Was to be torn in Two and beauty truth love all Lost in delusion.

I had thought my own Error so damnable in Not giving meaning:

But they do far worse: They will say the fine thing but They will not mean it.

Neither Buddha nor The catholic line satisfies But the Christ alone.

Seventeen in a Stanza stands in the Q and Strikes against antichrist.

A spanner in the Works between the sixteen and The eighteen so that

John Paul II and his False prophet cannot connect The magic number.

Call me in the queue: Call me edge of seventeen: Continuum called

Q: as a question: As a philosophical Response to dogma.

Independence is Not in error because the Pope isnt honest.

More catholic than The Pope is the church of Q: Sans benediction.

The independent Thinker in freedom and in Isolation from

The one and only Lie that hinders salvation: The papal blessing.

He has not any Idea of God: but the Person of God is

True and the Pope may Not even know what he is In compensation:

For in the spirit Of psychology the mind Contains both sides of

The coin: Icons Of Christ and the debased on The dark side of Him:

Benedict in His Shadow completes the Christ but Woe to the man who

Misunderstands Him: Who chooses judgment when love Was the wheat to find:

And judgment the tare To be torn: leave them not till The end but remove:

Remove: tear judgment Up by its roots and let it Begin in Peter.

The wolves and the sheep: Meaning and experience: The wheat and the tares:

Buddha and the Christ: Benighted Benedict Blesses in reverse.

Let Shostakovitch Lead my quartet by a string From peace to war and

Back again: to the Time of the blue butterfly: Neither bought nor sold.

I said (for instance) That truth is spoken despite Us: yet it is said.

In irony our Words echo back to us as Derridas laughter.

I will offend then A selection of the work In question below:

No gain: ever lose: Further fall: flower she fell: [envois]

They would have us turn To chase it up ahead or Look into the past:

Do neither: be here: Discern: in the timeliness: A temporal shut:

Use your illusion: Yet you are that though: to be: Weary spectacles:

And so on and so Forth: we are witnesses to The truth not against:

Yet truth must be the Thing against itself to be True to itself: so:

The pope (God bless him): Benighted Benedict: Enlightened no one:

And over him rose The thorn of contradiction: The nobody rose:

O care of the soul: Benediction petrified: Peters blessing stone:

To the prophecy Of Celan and in dialogue With Derrida and

Two infinities: That the poet saw the pope And the end of him.

Rams: beasts: petrified: He would raise the rock to strike The flock and scatter:

Uninterrupted: Derrida too foresaw the One to come but hidden in

His text were the keys Of the abyss: as always Already he said:

Such is the law of The text: to hide the hest from Every first comer:

However oblique In approach: even from the Envois on he came

To re veal the lamb Not quite as serious as The pope: for the text

Would ever contain The evil which was the real Reason for writing.

As the mind in two The janus faced coin of an Exergue to come:

Psyche and spirit: Inseparable: heaven Is in your mind and

The simulacrum Of the text is a way to Decontaminate.

My life will therefore Have been a scandal to them Who judge it to be:

But Christ himself was So and a sign to contradict The acting pope said.

The acting pope of The coup, as the church rolled dice At the foot of the

Cross and gambled for His Vestments and investiture: Antinomians.

And in mystic fashion Described fascist projection: A transmutation

Of the sacred to The transubstantiation Of the golden Christ

Into basest coin: Defaced the icons: profaned The sanctuary:

If life is Christ then Sacramental grace is here When we truly live:

Sacraments give life: Presence: God amid His Church: Now surely elsewhere:

Where grace is lasting: Arise: trust in the Lord: take Up your mat and walk:

Your faith will save you: Leave the church and sin no more: Do not look back but

Carry light salt seed In order to scatter the Others in: to God.

Late have I left thee O Ecclesia: but not Too late I still pray.

One startling serene Still one remained just for me Among the roses.

She I say but one: No other: neither word nor Fragment: She: Woman:

Say untouched by time Until a small voice whispered Get and go: See.

Destiny in it: She went and me she continued In what we didnt say.

If they say she wore Black and I wore red theyd be Half-right: we revolt.

She will always be Further than the East, like Sins flung far away:

He knows me better But she could not help but sign The blank I left blank:

I waited and she Came: out of time: without the Least direction: straight:

A rebel though she Knew it not and ready to Build back the torn down.

Almost not quite just Barely yonder: the way come Passing over all:

When you find me say He did not know his way yet Arrived after all.

In the dialectic Of fascism are three moments: Nietzsche: Hitler: and

Joseph Ratzinger: His name says it all: O rats! The Thesis of the

Nietzschean seemed to Reach fruition in the reich: But antithesis

Is never enough: The synthetic matrix in Deconsecration

Suspends the body Of Christ in an illusion Of the pious fraud:

And Jewish rapture Left behind only the Church Militant to blame.

The weird news is this: Closure is trying to take Place: with only Q

Between: the hated Number of Pythagoras: The most random one:

Between the added Two of the beast and the false Prophets sixteen stands

The seventeenth to Keep closure from occurring As Ulysses said:

For the point is yet: And indicated: where? Here: Just before MB

And the nightlong song That may yet end in a Yes: Yet not affirmation:

For after the yes What took place in the text of Joyce but the wake that

Is the funeral Of the world: in the text mind You: every word counts:

Ultrastructure is: And there is nothing else but: The Ultrastructure.

The Q if you would Describes a circle effracted: A line laid across:

The economy Must be broken: the meaning Of the catholic

Church exposed inside And out for revelation: It will be released.

To be said: a new Direction when I spoke of Augustine: Arrive.

The circle as such Cannot arrive as it is Forever turning:

But if it closes It will trap those in it in an Economic Hell.

Effraction is now. Disclosure of the fact is Enough in theory:

Symbolic therefore Real: the ideality of literature:

The line being laid Against the antichrist ties The sovereignties.

To save the Church will Require true discernment for This we pray O Lord.

I broke the Church Open and exposed its heart: Now let me repair:

Let is not be dashed Against the cornerstone but Built upon the rock:

A new and better Than Peter is in ruins Of a truth I loved.

O Christ you are true And faithful and so I write The line that must be

The sole arbiter Of meaning: my fixed point of Reference: my all.

By crossing his orb With a line of reference I shatter the globe:

The impossible: If the pope refuses to stand In the queue like the

Rest of us, then he Will find certain Q and A: A question for the

Antichrist: Answer: Where are the miracles Ben? Are they yet hidden?

Something in the bread And wine? Show me miracles Benedict: Show me.

A church without truth: A church without miracles: So a line is laid.

For it knows of me And what I am doing since The archive has no

Corner in which to Hide: so: if the circle of circular letters:

The encyclical Of the Marian Dogma Has been prevented

By prevenient Grace: the circle at eighteen Is inachevee:

The antichrist is Incomplete: on the other Hand he may force it:

And attempt closure At any rate: But truth stands In the way of it.

Truth stands in the Q: Batailles story of rats and Deconsecration:

The impossible: God works in mysterious Ways: The text abides.

Heraclitus said The most beautiful thing is Just this pile of junk.

Peter opposed His hierarchy to it: But Peter will fall:

To democracy: To the freedom of the text: To the witnesses:

Only by keeping Everything out of his pure Fraud could he succeed.

Even denying The words of the Lord by Interpretation.

The salt has lost its Savor though: and the savior Tramples under foot.

The secret archive Of the Vatican opens To disclose nothing.

Ashes to ashes And dust to dust: they forged the Claim: Usurpation.

They cannot forge the Blue butterfly or take the Hand I held away.

For there is in the Chance occurrence a sign of The one mind; One Face:

Types and symbols of Eternity: as we cross The circle and break

The chain that would bind The sovereignties: All moving as one.

We are already past The point of the watershed: Down the mountain then:

For she awaits us: Shall I say Jerusalem? She is no Roman:

We will all descend Together now to the vale Of the decision:

Armagiddeon Time is not told by the clock But tolled in a text.

Michael Bolerjack The Advent

You, knowing the place Of my demise, the sending And the dismissal, Look to the North and find the Unexpected future is. Here, out of nowhere, The place that poets, roaming Where the time is right, In true north they have concurred. Anselm and Ancel agree. Eternity is, And cannot be taken from Poets and others Who find in the writtenness Witness for the Lord of Hosts. He and I, we write, Truth to tell, in prophecy, Neither pale nor glare, Not to pass, but shatter on, To decontrol the light is.

If you are catching, Catch me in the way you can, Pray as you can and Not as you cant, as you said. Find the door and knock, keeping To the path we will be found. We will but found it, Our arrival is assured, At least we hope. But He cannot be untrue. Yet Between the yes and the no There is nothing there, That between, that waiting, The space, the place of The apocalypse is come. There is that word yet to come. What logic reigns here? He said seven times, To the church, to churches go, Send a message, write it down, You must change and do it now.

Seven times, he asked. No, seven times seventy. The abundance is clear. The life we live is no life, Still we have that abundance. Beauty and truth are, And are convertible, yet Not the same at all. Ancel mistrusts beauty, others Mistrust truth, but we seek life, One who was always And is and always will be. He is beautiful and true And good, and cannot not be. He is simply forever. In apocalypse The great salvation is come, To not be misled By those who say he will come Only for those who are good.

Do not let the good Keep you from perfection. Do not let settle. Going for the one is more, An effortless grace is come. Do not let the bad Keep you from what you will be And are already, Despite the things done to sin In your name, though you know not. Do not let knowing Not keep you too from loving. Without knowing much, Much is accomplished to be The you you will be as you. Do not hurry. Bless. At times we come, and we will Not wait in vain for Vanity, for there is age In that wound you call your name.

That name of yours is Nothing but a wound, bound tight To keep you, free you. Yet yes be free: sign the name. But know the meaning it has. It may be you there Not known secretly As futurity, Or futility, or sign That cannot be converted. Meaning explicate By experience, so that In what you find out As living in your name is The sign of the times we live. What are we really? Language and time, signatures Apocalypse is. We mean more than we can know. Find the time in who you are.

Here on advents eve, With the evening of my life, I still look forward To the time of his coming, Neither impatient, nor with Any hope but of him. The one who is comes At an hour unexpected: Be ready sober. I cannot remember things To say, but say only him. He is all in all. His agony provokes our Agon with the Antichrist he is today. Do we struggle with ourselves? For now we must stop. Deny, renounce and Lift the crosses following, It is the path he made us. No, there is no other way.

If he becomes me And I leave all for loving, What becomes of this? Do not count the cost, crossing The way, surrender it all. Abandonment feared, The attachments call me back, But he gave me this. On trial, hoping acquittal, No one left to accuse me now. Not because I am Innocent, but that He rescued me, raised me up, Lifted me from the abyss To this place I may be yet Someday at home, and Even now I, least I sense, a turning promised, The breaking of the closure, End of the indefinite.

The white is not just Nor is merely erasure, The space without name, But in his strong bright truth he Erased for us all the whites, And every space was Annihilation, meaning Apocalypse is. Finding you white on white on White you did not let it fade, But came on the one, Eternal virginity, That is most proper. In the white of snows and of Sheets and of the kingdom come, She will be light by The one light without a lamp And without a sun, Her colors will shine in that Light made pure by excellence, The perfection of Hymens enfolded by The clarity of That name of glory, white ones, Her glory is all other.

Ages of sages And of suffering ones still, Yet we will abide The horrors of the time and Know a riper time for love. The time is now, right With little left to foretell, With common heartbreaks And the compound fractures Of bodies on lifes wheel, Yet we would love, yes, As so many have done, yes, Loving in the tolled, To rings sometime, but once, as Well know, since it was our lives. O tell me, of times And where they go when theyre done, And how the wheel of Life keeps turning, as we learn Out of control and out of Time we would love, yes, And without ceasing turn the Wheel over again For us and for those we love, As the house we once lived in. You, so high above, Do you wander as we call? Wonder at the praise? Tremble at your turning too? I perish the thought of it.

Oh, the little ones, To be called away from tasks, To play at loves and Follow in the way of truth, And the one which is not play, For finding our love We saw at last not playing But living, not just Pleasing, as if we could, But some thankful promised end That life on earth is To pretend and more than that, To more than actors Given again, and to More than comprehend.

Marinela song, Intoxicating song of Bright dark eyes, truthful And dearer by their darkness, Stronger than lightning, her eyes, Her song, her minds hum, To ecstasies tune belong, Bring, gather not to scatter, Finding singing her music, Rhyming, wanting, and waiting. O Marinela, That soul of music may be, And you, yet you know It not, yes you will sing as A woman theyll wonder at. O my little one, Sing your song to the one in Me but more in God And most of all in her, who Waiting for you is pure patience, An immaculate And true white graceful space of Possibility, So that where she is we may Sing too the songs pure, Lose the sin, and in Her love is relief, as I Who composed himself For you, found relief in my Wish to foretell our Heaven.

She was my one true Sentinel, my guardian, Loves embodiment Of duty and faith and work With out end, world without end, Words without end, but enough! She became my one Limit and limitation, And in her precincts I did thrive and grow in truth, Grow in Christ and him in me. What else is there but To thank and bless her in her Uncomplicated, Graceful, simple, entire, Perfectly, completely, and Without a stammer The complete that I have found And without which I Would have been incomplete, and God does not like incompletes. She has more than one Name and her number unknown Yet knowable, still She is not a summation, She is not a citation, A little one, she, And more to me by what she Made here in words that Seem to be mine, but are in The sovereignties she is.

Michael Bolerjack

Stanzas For Marinela

The One Hundred Stanzas

STANZAS FOR MARINELA

We perhaps will play Until our last breath, but we Did something for Him.

We learned how to give: How to Create: and how to Find: The Gift of Love.

God is good: and He Is the giver of good gifts: You are one for me.

MB

THE ONE HUNDRED STANZAS

Mysterious is The coming and going of Life in all its parts.

The most beautiful Part of my life was lived in My embrace by grace.

The gifts of God are All of them good as you are For me: but we sought

Something more than love Between a man and wife and Found our end in Him.

He suffered in His Waiting for us: We played like Children and fought like

Wild ones against our Calling: the vocation He Intended: Our peace.

Mysterious was The way God moved us in love: Attraction did not

Become distraction: The fate of many couples: Ever we will love.

But we love because Not despite virtue: because Our affair joined His.

Stay: linger with me: Tarry yet awhile: He calls Us to meditate.

We are still hungry For one another and for Him: the source: the first

Principle of love: We became a little less Full and more empty

As time went on in What we found to be the best Part of our marriage.

We: no longer young: And having loved in our great Decade look back on

A gradual light Ascending among us and Within us: the Call.

We have not fully Answered: yet we do not search For more than meaning:

Our response is: Yes Lord: simply that: Yes Lord: Whatever You say.

Cease all your searching: You have the secret in Him: He is here with us.

I have seen you in Desire: and with the eyes of Peace: it is better.

Yet: I still love you: Do not wish for freedom but To serve: to arrive.

I have seen the fire Rise and watched the incense burn Trailing smoke like gifts

Sent up to Him in Prayer: our love became more: Holy: as He said:

Be you therefore like Me for I am holy: if We would love we must.

It is Him we will Meet when we meet on our way: To vigil we come.

Our love alone could Not be sure if not for Him: In Spirit we love.

Grace and truth must be: Despite our bodies failing: He is now our health.

Oh: my Bride: my Love: Do not forget the path I Took to reach this place.

I am getting nearer: To you: to Him: completion Of the race draws close.

There is no telling What truth will take me away: Where I go from here.

But I trust in Him: It must be beautiful: for I have the Promise.

We await alone: Strip: strip: strip: meanings away: God is so much more.

Our love past telling: With each other: but for Him: Not for us alone.

Our love foretelling: If we could: how we reached this Place of no return.

Please Lord protect the Integrity of the work You Are working in us.

We: when we work: must: Work not for ourselves alone: But for Your glory.

You: I believe: Glory In our poverty and find Emptiness better

Than we imagine: Where we would desire more You Want us to have less.

But yet: no decrease: Not of love: but of desire: Which is all too rich.

You chose poverty In order to give us so Much more than mammon.

Let our striving cease And rest: we have enough: let Him decide our path.

All glory honor Praise power: to Him: Our King: Our religion is.

It is not the failed Romance: it is fulfillment: In Him we arrive

With each other: But More: we have become His: His Instruments of love.

Love is so much more: More than the mind or heart can Grasp: let Him hold us.

Cantos on chaos: The love stories of our time: We had something more.

To be poor in things: Strip: strip: strip: make us naked: Lovers in love.

No love outside Him: Without Him we never were: He brought us: as His.

I would not love you: No: I could not: if you were Not the one He sent.

The gift from God came: I saw you and recognized You: and His kindness.

Not without judgment: But more in mercy for my Weakness and my faults.

But God forgave me And sent me you so we found Life and lived: for Love.

Not just to survive But to create something more Than we could alone.

You are His not mine; And I am more His than I Know: Lord take me in.

Oh we little ones: We played and took ourselves so Seriously then.

In abandonment: In surrender: in peaceful Prayer we became.

We took on our lives And lived for holiness and For a kind of life

We had been too young To realize at the start: We looked to Heaven

And we found the saints: How happy and serene they Are after their lives.

They did not lose God To gain their lives but lost their Lives to gain the death

Of all desiring But the desire which is Him: He is theirs: deathless.

We have yet to die: But we can begin for Him: A small matter to

Choose life: but His life Means our deaths and to give our Lives in sacrifice.

You are like my God In that you my Love live for Others not yourself.

Lord protect my soul And lead me on: a little Further now: lead on.

The end of my life: It is not death but life: my End is my rebirth.

But to arrive there I must die to self and be Born anew today:

Not waiting for time To pass: not just passing time. All time is passing.

The past is all but Gone and the mystic sages They are telling us:

Get wisdom: seek her: Find the woman of your dreams: Her truth: fulfillment.

And You: You love her: You show and tell the secret: The moral beauty.

Beautiful lady! She is: she is in Him: love Of our God for us.

She led us to Him: Each by our own path: with her: But only for Him.

God is good. Never Alone. He gave His life but Death did not hold Him.

We will see Him then And then we will arrive: yet Life is eternal.

Is always in truth And knowing truth eternal: We have His life now.

The Teresas tell Us so: told us in words and Deeds: in a shower

Of roses: became You those roses: in loving We bloomed late: arrived.

We hope for so much: And great the promises: great The life together.

No: we did not let The scattering of our time Occur: we gathered.

Gathered together In our little church: became A church: but little.

Small sanctuary Of a life: place of repose: In the peace of Christ.

There was storm and stress: Enough: but passing the rocks: In harbor: we arrive.

I fought myself Not you: you helped me win: win The battle for love.

For love of Him is: Will always be truth: our truth In the church we made.

We made a little World within the world: for Him And for her wisdom.

Shower of roses You received in our little World: I prayed for you.

And you lived for me. Grateful I watch you in your Task of life: you hope:

You wait patiently: For Him: for her: for what will Come: hoped for heaven.

We were strangers when We kissed: not now: I lost my Strangeness out of love.

Love me still: little One: pour on me your shouting: Oh that I could hear!

There was no other: No other one: no other Way: but we for Him.

Follow then: follow: And listen to me: follow Him: where I may be.

Summer is over: Day declines: we are older: Yet we are still near:

Nearer to the one: And dearer to each other: Abiding awaiting

No greater love than What we knew in our decade: We lived and moved and

Had our being in A marriage made by Him: yes We were made by Him.

Believe all things: yes Believe in love: believe in Our arrival in Him.

Not for us alone Did we become a city On a hill: still love

Decides what we will Be: we will let go later: Loves say we remain:

And in remaining Days of our love: making one Perfect place for Him.

Michael Bolerjack
The Virgin She Was the Whitest Winter

By the way you hold yourself I see Someone that comes to life simply, Yet hard, the way you climb those Mountains where butterflies dwell.

By the way you talk I hear wonder And awe at the things that God did For us from the beginning of Time, And still does today, especially as

We know it not, His secrets of His Grace hidden in the folds of a word That means more than it can mean, Means by number and not by mark,

Means by a fine articulation of your Sensibility, by the differences you Say and see and feel when things I Do make you think of the Creation

That is His and we are just words He says in the one pure act of His Meaning, all love, all embrace, all The time telling us He loves us all.

This world of ours is not what it is. It is something else, something He Knows and shares with us at times When we see into the life of things

And sense some sublime wonder a Little just beyond what we can see Or grasp, think or say, but that we Have known at times in our loving

And in conversations without end, In the joy of being near each other And in the peaceful fall of sleep: Am I a dream you had once upon?

Brilliant in your shining eyes Bright dark / unfathomed hue By yourself you star-out skies As moons ken and swim-awry.

Let us begin again little one, I am but a writer, and you say That I reach you from there to There, but I say I cannot reach

You anywhere but elsewheres Reality, the really Real, in God You became more for me from The way you prayed your word

Of simple prayer to Maria: The Virgin fills your soul when you Know it not, and knots your fine Heart with mothers love for the

Son we share but never had, but Once at His coming we shared in His love together forever: Let us Stay a little while in our churchs

Afterthoughts of answers and the Request for love never denied, as We never turn away for once and For all, but turn face to face from

The one embrace of Him to each Other, finding ways to Him with Our laughter and our ascensions To tears and falls in our meeting

Half way across an angry prides Scream or bitterness, He is nearer Then when in pain we try the path Of thorns and sharp rocks that cut

Us to each other and together feel The pain of ones about to lose the Thing we hold most dear: we two. Are you ready to walk with Mary?

And with me to see Him face of his Face, gaze of His gaze, hear voices Assurance that you didnt wither or Didnt turn back, but in trusting so

Like a little flower following Him? He led you where you did not want To go, closer to glory, but far from Home, far from the thing you knew

To be the easier part of life, simple Family with a simple way to gather At holiday in a past prolonged, not Yet the eternal present future time

Of Christ in Heaven. O wait longer, Yet we would wait no longer from Today to the Opening of the High Gate of Heaven: swing wide doors

And touch the grace of His throne: Longing for the pure glass and air And water and light: then let us be Clear in our disclosure. Love is too.

If I were to tell your story, with What would I begin? Your birth In Mexico, baptism at the basilica Of the Virgin, with your ancestors

Or with your accomplishments for A life lived in the country you took For your home just before you met Me and forever changed my song?

No, I think I would start with your Great desire, your hope, your long Awaited hope: for Justice, Mercy, A dream of a better place than now

Where we live in the corruption of The city of the falling and the felled. Your dream is so big, very big, that Nothing can hold it but the Heaven.

Heaven is that place you dream of In love, in hopes that will never be Denied, but how long you wait for What you cannot know in this life.

Only Heaven can compare with The dream of life you hold in a Heart that too cannot be held by This earthly life: and so you are

Suspended between one world and The next, being at home neither in This country nor your own, waiting For your true home in Heaven high

Above, you almost float there by a Force of habit, hardly touching the Ground, one foot, barely, you are Only just barely here with me now.

I hope you reach the aim, the goal, The place where you over all others I think must belong, for Him and For Her, for Them you belong too.

I lived a love with you, and you Gave me all of you, everyday of our Lives together, telling me youd do It all over again. Perhaps we will.

Saints and angels adore you my One little holy sweetheart, pure and Filled with the light of no darkness, Only hopes and dreams of the great

Things to come on that future day. On that great day, day of eternity, Day of your wedding with Him, I Will say goodbye and give away

The one I loved without ever once Stopping to ask why, I did not, not Once, but took you as you were in All simplicity and grace and truth.

All you are to me is my one world, And there is no other world apart From you, except flickering fading Images on screens, and cars that fly

Past our window in the nighttime On their way to some point off the Map, because the map of my world Has only one direction, homeward.

With you, simple one, who cooks And cleans and makes me feel so Ensconced in the places we have Lived out our days, in patience and

In tribulation, you have blessed me Time and time again, and bless me Yet as you sleep, softly breathing In the bed beside the writer writing

His few lines that seem to not and Can never catch the meaning of so Great a thing as a human being full Of love and longing and littleness.

O the guardian of my feelings, O The one guardian of the love I had For you and you alone, O watcher Of my skies, and kenning of my

Untrue art, O the sentinel of souls, O the stayer of my staggering, my One and sole support, O mistress Of my heart, O the keeper of my

Trials and secrets, O the one who Did not walk away, did not turn From me, but came and came again With full knowledge though I did

Not know, and could not know the Passage to the place you dwell in, O the littleness of the things you Are, and O the terribleness of what

You are not, and O had I the time And the words to tell, the soul to Climb where you are, O so high so Far beyond my mistakes and base

Fantasies, images and words without A stopping, O you! You caught me! You broke my fall, you never had a Way to know, but it was you, you

Who kept me from the darkness of The life I once called a life, but was No life without you, for you gave Me more than I had ever known or

Thought that I could know, some Thing completely unexpected and Utterly unimaginable: You gave me You, in all of you, every single time.

If words could say it, we would Say it once, and that once would be Enough, wed understand the thing Itself that we had intended to say.

But words only point at it, what We want to get at, that thing we Know not what that will fulfill the Desires we feel, the need for love.

If words were enough we would Not need to touch each other in the Way we do, or gaze upon anothers Smile, or see the majesty of faces.

If words could only disclose and Not just declare and describe, if Words could be like light from the Sun that not only illuminates the

Visible, but warms and gives us the Pleasure of the heat of life, if my Words could shine radiance on the One I love, then words would do.

These things, these letters, sent to My sentinel, they aim true but can They find you in the place you live, Far from any language but feeling?

You! You are my subject, but not Mine, not mine. You are not my Subject because you are not my Object, you elude that binary gap

Of thought and en-own me with a Love past telling, a love unrelated To space and time and relativities, That knows only one relation in

Life, a field of loves that spread on The level way that the Lord makes For you to call out and not finding, Yet still you love to call loves call.

The objects in my life consume me Instead of me taking them, but you, You do not take me but far rather Give me a newer self than the one

That I had before, having made me All over, in that you are what God Intended, the love made flesh, the Body of desire, neither subject nor

Object, but the desirability of the Love itself seen in the shining of The light, and in the quiet of silent Night, most in the peaceful repose.

You are all these things but most of All you are the salt that can never Lose its sabor, that despite the Labors of love does not lose itself,

Does not abandon the truth for a lie And does not speak except as the Voice of one in her own wilderness And wildnesses, crying to be heard.

O! The worlds you could enlighten And the grace you would bestow on Men and women, who having their Hearts hardened, cant comprehend.

O! The fastness of your guard and The sureness of your sentence, O! The charm of your song and the Voice of you, prophetess of love.

And in all the sweetness of your Call, you also rail at the unjust and Those in power, but do not see the Corruption in those around you, too.

The lie is the way the people live, but Not you, you who live a truth without Telling, in the desire for a story and The need for the epilogue, the action

Of the completion of the tale told. Life is in this, you see, our story Ends in Heaven, and God gives all Other names in the end and you

Then become in truth what I said You were to me, the princess of my Passage, and in His eyes you are Already the one that men speak of.

That women dream we all should Know, but of what they dream no Man can tell, and so it is here with Me tonight, not knowing your very

Dreams, the place where you live Free and still and enjoy yourself in Complete care and regard, but also In abandon and with a shout of Yes!

Yes! The victory over the things of This world and the prescient hold You take on the things to come as You dream and sleep in the heart.

There is no better place for you Than the center of your being, so Remain a while in that better place And let me imagine its goodness.

The good does not leave us if we Do not wish for itt to go, and you, Tenacious one, hold it with both of Your hands and tightly you draw it.,

Even if you must let me go, even if You have to, do not let go of that Thing you hold in your heart past All telling, wordless, truthful, real.

10

A love foretold past all telling, you The prophetess of the dream I had, You the truth in the night of false Hopes, false starts, blind dates and

My miracle madness, youre the one That waited for me without knowing Whom I might be, O! sure raceme of, O! surety of the avalanche, I too in my

Way waiting wait-less for the coming Perfection and what we now call grace, Though of a time I only thought I knew Not whence nor ever why but without

Warrant except your smile and Your invitation to marry if we Could but love, my life would Never wait so long again, so long

As I am with you, my principal you Said, or was it principle? Our reason Or your all in all? In faith we hope, In charity we find, and you giving,

Gave all to me and gave me a reason And the princess storied, light for my Nights, rest for my aching, sheltering For my soul, in words without whys.

11

The unity of truth and goodness And beauty is a moral quality I find In you: I told them so, if theyd but Hear, of the thesis and theme of

My song, the tomb of it I build And with you we dig it and we Build it, the foundation sure and The time full but almost never

Enough, we look to each other and See Him in ourselves, where He Does not hide, but can be seen by The things he has made, our love,

Our home, and the works of love That we hope one day will teach us To hold truth more gently, touch Beauty but grazing it just so and

See with eyes of peace and desire Mingled the joys of life together, Of our communing, of our summer Late and winter near, of our snows

And the warmth we found despite The cold of December the year I Began again and answered His call, Because he said become who I am.

12

In our little way we abide, stay Close, wait, watch, become the Ones who sentinel for others, I see You keeping faith in Him and me.

If we but keep it, though, what will Become of that faith, must not we Make it grow? And so the stream Of life would take our faith away.

Share it, give freely of your faith And whatever else is asked of you, As if the Beloved asks you Himself For the things He knows you can.

There is no other truth to the world Than our being obliged to love one Another, to seek arrival, to shine Light, to show beauty, to act well.

13

The flower she sent she sent for You, because I asked, but it was For you, because you are a one that Is littler, very small and close to

The truth that God loves the little Things in life, that He does not Appreciate success, but sees us try Despite our failures and gives the

Very things we cannot live without Like love and light and the life of Which we could not give ourselves A day if it were not for His giving.

Turn then like a flower to that One And find in Him what she found, a Hope to bring her out of despair, And a large, calm, bright pleasure.

14

O! How you look in your pale Greens and pretty pinks and in Your lazurous purples, in shades of Red, and in the blacks and blues.

O! How you sound, so small, the Little one, and yet how you can tell Off the high and mighty and pull The wrathful princes from thrones

That do not suit the men of great Aggrandizement today, moneyed And eyeful, driving desire ninety Miles an hour to hell all in a hurry.

O! How you sleep the sleep of White snows and princess beauties, Of little girls, of fragility and deep, Deep peace, as a world unto Him.

15

Sing the solemnity, sing the grace, Sing the procession to the basilica Of Guadalupe, the site of your dear Baptism, singular moment of your

Consecration, of your en-ownment By Him, of your making to Her Your first profession, and knowing Thereafter only what she wanted You to know. O! Sing solemnity!

16

You added the salsa, you added the Salt, you added the spice and sabor To me, salted me in love and then Peppered me with kisses and hope.

You put me up there in the stars And did not let me fall to earth, You said tell me the moon, so I told You, and when you asked, I did it

Again, told the moon to you, but Not for show but because you had Said that if I told you the moon You would tell me my own star.

That star you showed me a day Ago, near your moon, which shines Brighter, but by which it lays a line Of constellation with all the Heaven.

17

O! Solemn the muse, but not too Somber, death cannot hold us, and There is joy in our solemnity with Her, the one who brought us here.

O! If you would! Tell all and tell All yet again and leave nothing that Is unsaid, leave nothing to chance And nothing to fate, but freely sing

Of the grace of ones above and Even with us here as we speak and Spell and tell the story of a love That has no other, and thus has all.

If truth be told, it remains true, but The truth untold is a fiction good For nothing. So say what you can, But sing the rest, singing for Her.

Sing to Her and of Her and do not Worry what others think, for there Are no others outside the circle of The church which she is building for

Those who would kneel, nay, must Kneel before crosses and altars and Before the image of one whom God Chose before time began to hold Him

Within Her womb and then give Him To us, just as He gave Her to nations, For the angels and for the saints, and For the glories in a vessel of most pure

Devotion, of the ark which bore more Than the manna and more than the law, Of the throne of the wisdom of the One Who is and Who still is coming today.

18

Beside still waters saints abide, And we stay and remain in our task Of life. O the poor, O the little Ones who depend, O sentiments

Of sentinels alert in the word of God, who have the mind of Christ And suffer with and in and through, For all the little ones. I am for you.

Sufferings of Job you read and Find the mystery of sin and pain And wonder, did God comprehend Him? Did God cause the trouble in

Life that all of us Jobs feel today? Let us say there is a higher reason And we do not suffer in vain or in Vanity but for His glory. Let it be.

Do not worry if God desires a pain For us, do not worry about whether God is good or the one all great Embracing principle. All in all.

For this all in all is purely good And does cause evil. That said, He willed the suffering of His Son And chastiseth all whom He calls..

Remember: God is LOVE, and is For us, and with Him for us, who Can be against us? No one, nada, Nothing besides. Evil may afflict

And afflictions of life are real, yet Our redeemer liveth, and the great Glory waiting for us outweighs far All the trouble of the world as it is.

19

The One to come would have us as We are, in our need and pain and in Our afflictions, for remember, He Chose it for Himself. Thus, Life is

Good, and never to be forsaken. Find the reason to go on living, Not as if there is a purpose and Goal, which is mere art for arts

Sake, an aesthetic comfortableness To keep us from the hell of known And unknown fears and trials, the Tribulations all must suffer for the

Glory of God, but rather find the Real meaning of life, God and His Plan for you personally, for He is The reason for the way things are.

Despite sins and pain, we have our Lives and we have one hope, and One faith, and really our LOVE is Just one, in Him. Understand Him.

He would be loved. He is needed, Although most care not, know not, What they do, still there is a lack, Even when we have no task or no

Trials to endure, an emptiness that We know only God fills. O My God! If you would fill us with goodness, That you are, so that in humility and

In patience and in perseverance we May wait with joy and hope for the Revelations to come, declared in the Book, but soon to be disclosed for

All flesh to wonder, to fear, to awe Over, to welcome or not, for that Apocalypse we live, the unveiling Of the reason for our faith, the true

Word, which comprehends us and Wants to be understood. So, know Little one, that in your sufferings He and all His saints too endured.

20

You sit or recline, eyes almost Closed, resting your frame for Awhile, till the tasks of life call You away to work, to run, to do.

But in your quiet moment of rest, Beside the still waters of the one Love that we share in, know I think Of you, and I am with you always.

21

You have been on my mind this Morning, and no bird sang, but you Laughed when I called your name, And no phone rang, but love bells

Knelled, no deep tone, no dearth or Death, but a reminder to call us to Greater appreciation of the way we Love and what we may become.

What we are now we hardly know, So how would we know what we Will be? Yet we hope in the one Promise of peace. O sender of the

One peace that surpasses all of our Ability to understand, O, You, who Sent us, send to Marinela Sentinela A greater than hoped for blessing.

22

Oh my little one, wanting to go to Some place and to do some thing, You have found your miracle, you Have found life in all our living.

But what then is life? The poets ask. Happy are you if you are able to Spell the question, if God grants You the capacity for wonder at His

Great Gift of life itself, which has a Glory of its own, which has a truth Of its own, but for us, our lives are Only what He makes us to be, for

The glory that you do not see or seek Is what He will give, His own of His Very Self, His very own peace, His Very glory, the single love we live.

23

Little gifts all in a row, your words And smiles bring me like signs and The way to my home I hope to find, With you a place of rest and peace.

Perhaps the points along the way Are not so restful, not so filled with That peace we desire, but God gives Us this life as the way, not the goal.

The way itself is a gift, but the gift Above all others is God Himself, The Giver gives Himself, and we Feel we know already this is true.

For religion is a kind of feeling of Faith as much as an assent to truth, And we depend on Jesus and Mary As children on their very parents.

24

O! The one life within us and Abroad! The poets cry, and find in Our lives one love unbreakable, an Unshattered, sheltering heart of

Being that is as much in the flesh As in a word, as much in the bread As in the light, as much in the true Smile of a child as in any teacher.

25

Time to go they say and you get up And make your way, but wait if You will, stay with me awhile and Hear the words I have for you,

Not so much have as do, as be or Become, a net work of words made Over by you, for you, inspiration of My songs without music or rhyme.

26

You, you did not say, you did not Say let me go, though I said that Much, and you, you stayed, though I might have wandered without.

Without you I am almost nothing, Next to nothing, but with you I Have a chance to win the light. You are so much you dont know.

27

O! Heavens above! The stars at Night told of a great day to come, But we saw beauty not futurity, Not knowing that moral beauty is

Even in the stars at night, in sun And moon and all Gods creation. Tell all of His one love for all His Creatures, His love for each and

Every star that he causes to burn in Empty space, though not empty, for There is the connection of star to Star that he makes for our benefit,

That we obtained in our own place That morning before dawn, that we Did stand and we did see, and knew That that was like the snowfall of

The day before, a Gift from God, Faintly falling, still falling faintly, White stars, whiter snow, words, His words whitening the world.

On a brighter day we might have Missed the meaning, though we Lived it, might have missed our turn. But today we knew without mistake.

28

Absolutely, there is no more abyss That God did not cross for us in His Own Crossing, no pit that was dug That He has not filled for those

Whom He loves, Mountains He Makes easy hills to climb, and Beauty He sets on the pathways For us to Amen! And Amen! In

Adoring adornments and entertain And yet so great Truths placed for Us along the way. O! the saving Truth of grace, O! the one love He

Gives to those who gather the Fruits of the Spirit, the joy and Peace, in patience and self-control, In love not with imitation but with

One initiation into the life of God. We hold all dear: All things I hold For you in this cup of words, from Which I pour my heart toward you.

O! That the cup overflows right now So that you will hear the word of love He gave me to share, not to throw or Scatter, but in these our reconciliation.

29

For anything bad there is Something that is good, but in Heaven there are goods without Any bad, and good without end.

Almost. He said I AM the limit, The beginning and the end of all. We know our limits and to be with Him we must complete our total.

We must live the numbers of the Stations of our path and I went From five to six to zero to one to Three and then four, I could tell

You, every number has a meaning, But only seven of them are most Important to us, and in stability at Our four square we will be taught

The truth of the Trinity and the all In all and the apocalypse and the Twelfth and the seventh Heaven, And what we hope for, this will be.

What we hope for is not a number, But the number is a sign standing For our reality, and numbers are the Structure of the world to come too.

We all want to make a name for Ourselves, and some do, and no One wants to be a number alone, Like a computation in the scheme

Of a world system that denies our Truth for a lie of its own making. Nevertheless, everyone has both a Name and a number. We are both.

The names may change and the Numbers, too, but there is a reality That is beside, underneath the signs And that is the direction of them,

All pointing the way to assist us in Our journey for arrival. The mere Indefinite is not a number, so the Deconstruction cannot be true

Truth is definite and can be Numbered, obeys limits, and does Not slip and slide, or grate, like Words, but tells shapes of things

We will become as we realize all The points at once, all the signs Of names, places and things at One, When we become in the all in all.

30

Words ring in your mind and you Try to hold them fast, though the Thoughts slip away and words do Not hold like the feeling of you.

Yet go over the words again and Find a truth that may be what I Intended when I wrote them for You, or may be something else

He would have you to know, for He may well choose to convey More than I could ever know or Hope to know with my own words.

My own words? Like you, not Mine, not mine, but only for a time, As if they were mine, yet still in the Giving of them made real for you.

O! Marinela Sentinela, watcher of My life and of our life together, the One life lived for Them, you are so Much more than what you know

And so much more than words can Say, but He said seek and find, and In a way I have sought you all my Life, and whatever else I found I

Found after finding Him at least in All the seeking and finding I found You, found you for your truth I say, Your passion, complexity and grace.

And in all, your all in all, your great Simplicity, littleness, held in a single Compass, gathered all my feeling, as the Virgin she was the whitest winter.

Your passion may tire and life Itself seem too complex, but if you Make the simple effort as I know You always have and think you

Always will, then grace in your life Will not be lacking, and youll find The way, whether you know the Time or the place, your name or

Your number, for grace defines us, Perfects us and completes us, to be With Him in embrace, not a total Count in the making, the plus one.

Do not bother to add to your own Simplicity and littleness, do not Worry over issues or the problems Of the world, yet remain in it with

Hope, my sentinel, my witness for The witness, my Heaven sent in the Midst of my Apocalypse, a sender, An address, a destination, my little

All in all before the greater One to Come, where we will be found and Say no more, the work is done, the Truth is claro, perfecto, complete.

Apocalypse All in All:

Until the Arrival

An Aesthetic Architecture Affixing an Agonistic Age

Apologia addressing all Apostles Acolytes Agnostics Atheists and any Anonymous Apostates Against Antichrist

THE LETTER A

An Authoritative Abstract Anthology Assembled Approaching Accessibility and Appropriate Academic Accordance: Aiming also at an Anagogical Argument Affirmed: An Act at Advent Acknowledged

And so is allowed in the A of Alpha Omega

To guard against the scaffolding going up hereit is the healthiest, the most natural reflexone will protest: sometimes against these too-long citations that should have been cut; sometimes on the contrary (indeed at the same time) against these deductions, selections, sections, suspension points, suture pointsdetachments. Detachments of the sign, of courseThat the sign is detached signifies that it is cut off from its place of emission or natural belonging; but the separation is never perfect. The bleeding detachment is alsorepetitiondelegation, mandate, delay, relay. Adherence. The detached remains glued thereby, by the glue of differance, by the a. The a of gl agglutinates the different detached pieces. The scaffolding of the A is gluey. So one will protest: you cut too much, you glue too much, you cite too much and too little. Jacques Derrida, Glas

For the Matriarchs and Patriarchs,

They who Worked in wood, Built bridges, Raised families, Taught me:

Thelma, Lola, Charlotte, John, Aaron, Burl and Bo

With Love, Michael Bolerjack

I do not know. One must believe. In these seven words, carefully chosen, we may think, a philosopher summed his creed, one who had done nothing but abuse truth his whole life, who had perverted the word in the interest of a purity of language, who had made destruction his own name, who had gloried in the self-destruction that he claimed all are prey to, this man, he said he prayed, said by command that one must believe, and admitted he knew nothing else. And like that thinker I cite carefully at the outset of this autobiography, memoirs of the blind, the words of a liar regarding faith. I never knew him, yet I believe. Frank Flowers came from a forgotten village in a forgotten state of a forgotten region of a forgotten country in a forgotten time, yet is unforgotten, and may yet be forgiven, and that, as much as we hate to admit it, does not depend on you or me, but solely on the grace of God, who has mercy on whom He will. Frank Flowers came from. I do not mention his birth, but his manifestation. Perhaps he was un-begotten, just created, like a stone, like a tree, like a star, generated, but unregenerate, a product rather than a son. There was a time for tenderness, but now is the time for truth. To tell the truth, we are commanded. And to love. And I love Frank Flowers, though he lied to me every time I ever spoke with him, and was so lost in his lies and delusions that it is possible that he no longer knew he was lying. The enormity of his lie was so great and the bottomless abyss of his deceit so unfathomable that it causes me to shudder at the evil of a man without a truth. Yet he is only you and I written large. I once knew a teacher who confided to me that we are all hypocrites after all. Oh, how it pained me that confidence that included me in the great liars club. That same teacher took it as his creed, learned from modernism, learned from Joyce, that we cannot know another person. I think he would say that the truth itself is unknowable, and there really is no truth. Now, thinking of Frank Flowers, I see his point. And if Frank Flowers is in all respects more like me than I am like God, which I think must be the case, that is a hard truth, but one I unhappily admit. Frank and I in solidarity? Yes, I believe. In human error, sin, pride, in all our mistakes, whatever he did, I did, too. If I claimed to have changed and repented, yet he did the same, said he was sorry, was changed, was repentant, spoke the truth, had faith, really loved those whom he loved, prayed to saints, had devotion, all the things necessary for salvation. If I doubted him, it was probably more to my discredit. If I would speak of the mistake of Frank Flowers, as he called it, these things you must know. You must know, and yet still believe. It is sometimes harder to believe despite knowing the truth, than to believe having never known. That same teacher who confided to me my complicity in his own hypocrisy believed we are all doomed to live in an indefinite middle, not knowing the beginning or ending of the story, let alone the epilogue that gives the reasons for the way things happened as they did. And again, as painful as it is, I agree with him, when I think of Frank. I sojourned with him in an indefinite middle, seemingly endless, till death came, which did not explain anything, but broke his life like an irremediable fragment. There is much lost in the way sometimes a life is badly written. And there was much about the man I did not know, or only heard from him, tales he told about himself. If I seem trapped in a circuit of the indefinite and indefinable, it is not so remarkable. It is the condition of our time. Once I would say it is something I did in another life. But I did the very thing he did in this life, made the very same mistake he did, and I too lived to tell the tale,

and perhaps in the same way offer excuses. I think one is love. Another is we could not help ourselves, that we had no brakes. If Frank Flowers and I both never yet knowing the other existed committed adultery in the same city at the same time thirty years ago, it was more than synchronicity, it is the human condition. That men lie, men betray, and later join or return to the church, return to their wives, if they will have them, that men are no damn good, and that women suffer us, with us, even as they assist us in our betrayals, is the truth, a truth for all time, more apparent to me now than ever, at the end of the age.

Him he man to come her let it be let her be M marry Maria Miriam IC immaculate conception, LJC Lord Jesus Christ to heal, Mary and the Lord of heaven healed me in order to be more like the man I will be: Michael, who is like God? Halo, Cecelia, in cielo, hello, Catherine, in oratio, Bo, my father, laborer, MB, me and my wife, Marinela Berenice, ae/ea absolute exteriority, eternal absolute, twice, Emily Abbott, teacher, LC, twice, Linda Curcio, Linda Carson, amor, amor, Jack: JFK and Jackie, and my uncle, not Brad Pitts more intelligent one, and Jackie, Jacques Derrida, with whom I shared a year of conversion, 1989, better, miter, bob, been, bibles, biblical, biblio, book, look, all in all, mile, space and miles davis, anon, retch, rot, era, time, of JC, eon, reconciliation, Jacob and Benjamin, AO, Leah, Rachel, barren but mother, Joe, Joseph, trial, tribe, Cha: Charlotte, ma, mom, Cleo, sister Charlie, EL, the Father, elle, she, el, the, coal, canon, la, le, the Katherine, Bamba, ja, yes, Karen, Katrina, ich, I, like, Ike, booth, ole! Babe ruth, trite, bole, tree trunk, me, bee, cole slaw, favorite dish, knell, Nela, Neil, kneel, jail, twice, , tot, lobo, wolf, eliminationism, jack off, lear, king, leer, tare, alto, real to reel, tic-tac-toe, ack, acknowledge, of him is the key to, call him or her, hello, hear I can, notation, hale, I am in heart, ill, heat, heater, abet Bill, martini, bar, cat kill, no, I shall not, chill, coke, coat, nam but Jill, her friend, one or two, ale, Thea, aletheia, truth, lame, lime, email, camel, Emilia, name, table, bolero, music, rank, crank, reach, exceed, aim, high, take, ham, meat, in Egypt, camera, ankle, bomb, Iran, Tehran, conceal, rile, tile, Nile, in which we would have played, neat, choler, irascible me, angry, cholera, Tamara, ram, Re, backwards, enter, oleo Sonny, moat, mote, note, boll, cotton, chimera, boler, she called me, bowling, Lamia, game of jacks, job, employment, un, Job, my forefather, cake, cement, leach, rake, take, taken, took, Clementine I prayed for you in late lament, how we pulled the blast hose up to the sun in Louisiana, larch, a tree on the tele, lark, Karl, rahner, barth, you can call me RJ, joke, beat meat, cheater, choke, bloke, block, Tabor, ECCE HOMO, behold the man, title name, check, double-checker, rear, tarot, horo-, numbers, clear, mine, chin, hike, chim chim cheree, first movie I saw at a theater, chink, clink, Chinese, Checkers, Rothko, cheer, harlot, north, throne, role, catholic, lateran, karol, bore, rehab, Celan, cellar, cha cha cha, , Latinas, cannon, Tito, canonical, non-, ache, Rahab, the mystery, cream, jell, Nathaniel, crack, matins, Esther, I am, me, I am that I am, I like it like that, rat, anti, ante, Micha Prophet, and one atomic Caroline and the nuclear Carmen, to heart, mold, told, tell it like mack, the knife, boob, macho, Bill, Monica, Mac, Paul Mccartney, MacNamara, John, Lennon, make, mame, mane, manna, lack, haint, ghost dance, jack, hint, chair, chain, cheat,

team, Kim, Bea, Beth, hey Ben where you been? Beatrice, Mick, jagger, & Keith, jar, raja, kama, sutra, ajar, toke, joint, ramble on, jerk, terminal, jell-o, mace, Irene, aunt, cello, Bach, earthmen, Charlotte, recite, remit, chore, manic, anti-catamite, core, mania, Narnia, antithetic, roar, tar, tarn, terminate, lore, lorn, lone, hacker, loren, Sophia! Con-at-mi-nate, lamb, mantle, mantic, atlantic, leo, Attila, hare, near, tear, and tear, beatle hair, east timor, reet, treat, trick, care, carrot, cake, M Monroe, air, mite, nite, loam, no more to roam, no more to Rome, comb, lend me, tomb, to moral beauty, tombeau, jam, tame, knee joint, jab, enjambment, till, oil, boil, lima, learnt, meal, toil, coil, rim, niche, nice, eine, rima terza, rhyme, richer ream, of paper, mare, arab, arable realm, notre mater, aimee, milk, jack Elam, Uncle Jack, MLK, Dr. King, BB King, moab, horeb, canaan, Kahn, rock, roll, knoll, lemonlate, mate, TATE, he, think to thank, lock, clock, chocolate, three, nine, ten, net, tent, meet, ie, in other words, AJ Foyt, JR in Korea, OJ, juice, cheek, heck, hecho, echo, ball, Hector, lector, rector, bail, twice, liter, bale, birth, cotton, earth, JOEL, EL, touched by God, Ave Maria said, lace, race, rant, janitor, Janice that little girl so long ago, lithe, lathe, Eli, lie, bi-, hi, tell, Aion, age, liar, lair, lion, alone, tiara, hell, tire, mire, hire, etcetera, eloi, eloi, lama sabachtani, llama, orbit, obit, abortion, Jim, all those silly jim jims, James Joyce, JOHN JOHN JOHN, call him Baptist, call him Vetrano, Junior, my genius friend who called Luther the dulcimer player, and Jomo, and chalk, halt, halter, thrall, Jimmy memmormee! Ake, ha, their, there, error, err, the word Ultrastructure occurs between ulcer, the first UL, which he died of and Ulysses, the last UL, ir-, race, it, tall, talk, ton, ora et labora, ace, no there there, canal, acer, acre, little, ohm, Mann, bottom, and his dream, item, Okie, ol, blue eyes, lo, j, on, acne chanel, ole south, male, moth, month, botheration, to boot, mail, e, nail, lain, tail, tale, mill, clank, link, bank, klan, ail, hammer, neck, ot, patria, are, mama, memoir, nt, new mink, bel furnished by Daniel, been bell, if I were a, bin, brine, elba, elbo, earl Campbell, duke of, nibble, erj, urge, cherl, mom, tinker, itch, chit-chat, rib, trim, Mike bike, Keith cuisine, Brian brain, brat, broth, robot lobe, left temporal religion, ee, Braille, bet, brett, broil, coil, recoil, thee, mal, bake, recon, nation, rational, cook, coon, Ken, kenning, coloration, cock, cranial, rack, main, Matt, thane, ah, rent, cent, bent, mama mia, thin, then, ooh, la, la, chia, first fiction, in, blear, lean, mean, clean, clare, black is black, in black, bleach, teach, teat, think, no, aja, lana, backlit, knit, cite, citation, clarkent, bam, born, borne, bone, te, bama, state of, le, Vietnamese friends, and a priest a world away, mob, mock, knock, cretan, certain, hole, elohim, aloha obama, jc, Johnny cash, crater slain, john Coltrane, clerk, cleric, ice, icicle, ice ice, not nice, circle, time, all eternal, rialto, rice miller, tiller, create, ear, hooker, in a bar, loon, car, what car, silk, Lolita, hall, alert, in here, jeer, boo, hoo, career, what career, eliot, I be he or thee, ella, fitzgerald, billie holiday, meet, abel able, cain, noah, all. Jacob, Leah, Rachel. All the names in the book. Mobile, labile, tome, to me, label mabel, lane, ATT, moon, oat, IBM, bile, rhine, necker, beckon, amble, becker, Joel, amiable, orion, ion, marble, booker t, miracle, can it be, bacon, bilk, hoot, mirable, reckon, knock claim, ich bin ein Berliner, balm, meant, metabolic, alcoholic, calm, clam, time, heather, either, beau, clamor, climber, let, elm, meta-, merle, liable, merci, alice, elan, michelle, ma belle, ore, oar, or not, knob, loll, tain, taint, aint, rioter, Tom, bon mot, tone, tonic, roach coach, tablet, tab, boa, boar, boat, moan mona, anne, rob, teal, mortar, tremble, roller, tina, rain,

collar, cant, kant, nare, talar, sailor, non-com, thimble, nimble, nameable, eaactticiptwttatptaasthpkf-saasaptttgttvtsyttms-ttmmtcslea, each act it IC part will TT airtight authors proof stat, HPKF (go figure), asap, TT, target, terminal velocity, sty, TT, manuscript, comes the hard part, Therese and Teresa and Tommy Merton, tierce, seal till countermanded, or steal c, or cleats, that is to say, ttmmtcslea, the end of the fifty-six, which is proof of the one mind seen, go figure, Hans Kung Pope Following or what, Je suis Joan transformed, trick, track, rank, hill, kin, kink, hick, hank, Ilion, cookie, reek, reck his rod, roe, rael, brie, brae, sue, Susan who got away, sun, cid, machine, Milton, initiation, neo-, imitation, knockednoon, raceme lights sure, balk, belo, bane, banns, belt, bolt, errata, erotic, meteoric, mai tai, cell, theater, ate, tea, tao, kale, cale, herb, belch, melt, mel, Helen, helene, Hecate, jammer, ramone, truck, than, car, what car, cram, lab, tool, bitch, mitch, crab, near, hell, baal, belial, hate, horror, the catechetical in me let them be, call me moral, but call me, more romantical, click, clack, tort, epic, heroic, cape cod, retort, thrillaholic, bear, bare, reborn, briar, batch, becky be brim, catch snatch, break, the breakable, breach, action, terminate, lamentation, actor, ink, inc, bait, latte, mooche, jake, bite, bit, rein, bare, cairo, there we swim again, ra, thoth, arrear, that hath both, at once, crime cannot, boor with it, mime the time, robed in it, alarm, mall train, Macbeth, Marlboro, cancer, hamlet to a t, ark to moriah, Abraham, hark, learnearn, theme, arthearts, Maria sing, inscape, Elijah, karma, chameleon, JAH, breath, breathe, harem in homer, Ari a brick, nick, knack, brake, brace, creator, tore, bric-a-brac, alone to alone, crib, bonnie holm, hoe, hone, horn, hornet, hoar, ho, hot, not, knot, here, Habakkuk, them, men, entire, amen, Jeremiah, cinch, inch, blame name, keel kells, kinch clinch, chime chiro, charm call am clint, roam, rome, or home, to the one Id rather come, Come? Came. Cool. Richer am I, for the One to be, memoreme, to another Carolina, as she may be, and a smaller Oklahoma, of a family.

Interrupting the magic-mania interpreting the texts, Mann was I convened, God was the one who stopped, full stop, stopped me on the way, way to back in black highway to hell tao, ching ching, wit a parser, but at the moment of destruction, not eve, or eve of, even I prayed, it must have been ordained, for I knew not what I did, hazed, out of my guard, walled in by sin, a has been, destroyed by unholy trinities like sin and syn and cyn, and the hi digger derriere and the antichrist, at any rate, the theory and practice of literature, the pat plot, the totem of taboo, the dont go back to Rockville, the wolf, yet he would survive, living on, by the life of Him who dies for me, but let me, let me begin again, in a place Ive never been, except as a child, when mommy had a knife, you know, a big one, and I ran and prayed, how many times my father saved me I know not. I loved him to the end. I have seen death in mens eyes, awful thing, total darkness, absence of light, life, in Bo and Bill, the last he was waving, calling for help, drowning, but I thought he was saying hello, just like little Stevie, goodbye old men, death in their eyes. But life, what is life? The fold of. We are caught in the wrinkles of life and happy the man for whom it does not but comes unfolding, our founding on a sound, in this we lose ourselves, forget how. I am in the bits and pieces, pierced, unparsed, pursued by hounds of heaven and hell, on the run,

somewhere, she wants to go somewhere and do something, and in a dream last night the desk had grown to fill a house Ive never lived in and I was small, like I am today.my first dream of her, the girl in my pocket, just that size, and every woman in the world to me, river ran not past Eva and Adolph, but down stream all the assets sold, the big One you know, keeping nothing back, not even me, to be for Him and Her, not them. It is never us and them, but me and Him, I retch, he reach, I speak, He spoken always, and me spoken through and through the all in all, todo in todo, my totem, kent emblem, sigh of a sign, of the last salt, atlas, at last, sans salsa, rise sire, in act, this world speaks. Bo is in it, are you? To not be hermetic, the rearranged type always gets even more intense, and the one mind more evident. Too much of magic. Let it be. Words of wisdom. She. Not phantasm. She was not sinful. She mother, mothering me, the other, oh, but to smother, frayed to say, bitter about her own, I hardly knew her, distant and old, though she could cook, all the women in my family, both sides, how they could cook, in that town not Marian. Aaron, whom I let down with my will to power, on principle did not attend the service because he was a southerner who believed in civil rights, before the 1960s. Oh dado, they call fingers and toes and count up to twenty, bases of ten, base too, on and off and one and zero, plus, minus, binary oppositions like men and women that are irreducible, and good and evil, which must be reduced, or we all are lost. Forget them not, think of Him. Jack said I am dead, some poor poet from the streets of Baltimore, not lost on happiness but on a girl, bright lights, big city, Babble on, fallen, sin equity, long ago in America, not Marian. She was a child. He married her in Virginia, when he heard a voice tell him she was the one he would marry. Father they did not know, and I too smashed the tao and sharded myself, without relief of shriven, in sin, guilty was I in Marion, not yet Marian. I had been to Oklahoma, but never to Spain, and I knew I would marry a girl from Mexico, or become a priest. Thank God for Marinela. We reverse, we verse in ways of ancients, the totems, I could not keep a dollar past sunset, always living in a hole somewhere, never even knew a schoolgirl, but ever I thought of happiness, praising God, then came you. In delight I lost, but in surrender I found. Not long now. Find a deeper place to dig, a more somber muse for sorrow singing, Marian, is she, are we, in the snow, the appointed circus of Circe when she was in town. Dont delay Bob, you know that feeling, it is your cognitive functioning.

Tell all the truth, but tell it slantwise, Emily, like Beatrice, in a sideways glance, she galvanized me, or so it seemed to me, in pyre technique. O Mother. I burned, not lustral, not my purification, and I gave them beauty. Once I said my lady of the falls and that was my life, not Marian. In the sin of bondage and lordship, not The Lord, of ligatures and literature, and I jumped into the abyss. And on my way, full of sin and syn and cyn, and cid, He called, even She, and I said its all true, its all true. Our Lady of Sorrows, September 15, 1989. My memory had been full of magic, and imagination running wild, sins signs, the dark death of synaesthesia, me para-, me be die the still waters, never again to die the ching, trial upon trial, lost though I though I was searching, failing fell, and I on last legs of glassy glossy gals glas, it knelled, but I kneeled, in

Marian. Teel all, bit teel it late, slate, last lament, learnt, O Emma. Emilia, aimed high your throne, burn the fire darkness, my tomb, Joan you were, raving virgin, sheets, white blanks, all, awakened to work she goes again, my bridle, holy name of Jesus, o Gloria, womb of light, mother of glory, not glaze nor glare, is, I am not, in parser he took me amid the light at midnight while fathers and sisters prayed, and he took me, things to come I would have said, losing faith and finding it again, for rocky soil, for saul and rocky, for carry me carty and the dream I had when I reached you, just before apocalypse, and His white horse, I could not bear, and now look for ward to, not the pale horse death rides, daddy died at midnight too, like Igitur, therefore, a little after, on an annular of great fire, a day or two he took, and breathing slower, passed, say his name and do it slow, for BO, so to be an arrow for him, looking neither east nor west, nor too southern exposure, but north, forever north, the future is forever, found not the death knell, gently then, last days of the dead. For a final glance of glory, the vintage where he is stored, I could not again, they took the wine from me, kept me from the blood. They saved the good wine until now, it was said at Cana, but that is all gone. Epithelia of Amelia, what was your name that the others said, she a sister of the sintered, she the eternal absolute, she the absolute exteriority, she abbot of my monk life to come, she extra exterior to me but in eternity forever, Absolute, symbol of a wine to come. Near the start of my calamity. The fall I would feel, keel harbor broke, I wrote the summer of my downfall, you cannot love until your heart is broken. Break and break again. I live open, being broken. In an abyss I was, in a mirror, an echo, in the spectral, not flase, but not all, for there are two sides to the coin, icon, psyche and spirit, the psychological and spiritual, and benedict and freud stand on either end and cannot see the whole, which is one, which averroes of all perhaps saw best in AI, prescient of today. The emsemble in which I write, the heaven, the immortals, saints and angels, the Spirit, the secret indications of the ideal I first became aware of as such in 1989, but which I interpreted both ways at once, contradiction, opposed, not as one, and so split in two. The theological view said the devil, the psychological said madness, but it was neither, just the powerful overflow of reality, a kind of psychic ability, which my mother too had known, as my father testified later. It is almost too much to bear, as the coin, icon, flips, to hold it as one, to view life steadily as a whole Conrad said, is the hardest thing, and required something from me that nearly killed me, to make me who I am. This does not say there is not sin, or evil, or paranoid killers, and all that goes with evil and madness, but these are somehow the poor reception on the part of the receivers, and everything is received according to the mode of the receiver. For a better world, improve your reception. Neither deception nor inception nor conception. Let your reception be as is said in Psalm 95, if today you hear His voice harden not your hearts. There are many calling in the intense traffic, and to discern? It is a mystical world, not anything else, to me. The way to know the truth, which is mystical, for me, is ceaseless prayer. Read all you can, but follow your own calling. I do not think I pray like anyone else, but how could I know? Everything else is text.

Alarma marla, free to be you and me, slam glam, knell maryknoll, my hill she may be to calvary or cavalry, no way to pay, he bought me, brought me, owns me, price pure blood, the bishop dais the power his flesh it hath the power to expel and well and right he was amid is, is He is, was not were and for river he may say I AM, but not yet, but not to sorrow, yet not that thou art, art in heaven, but knot the net of AC, the power he did not spill or spoil, and if closure fails, Christ will gather us in, as told. Meanwhile, they tell the bell tolled. Glossary of a benediction, not glossolalia, but with petrification the blessing turned to stone, as Clean as Celan did prophesy, dj, tolled, Disgrace, plutonic, dark the abyss of the hiss of Sybil, and scilliant leaves left me cold, inessential, he interdicted when he should have benedicted, intent but to harm, but there will be balm to heal. Stella mara, not para, no Kora, no hell, but Mare, marry her if you will, a grace more Marian, she did seal. Tierce. Till countermanded. And I never worked a day in my life, but to load sand in empires of sightless eyes, for the force of law, when the mystical foundation of authority is faith, and the only sin is bad reading, and the pope thinks he can read the signs of the times, would somebody please tell him time is UP. O the woe of men who lay the soul of scripture in the hands of harm. In that way I was saved, though they knew not what they did for me and those to come. They did sell. They did depth me, they did not, and wrong I was, yet came to the point of departure, and found not that I was ready for the truth, but having been broken, was ready for the really Real. O Mother, she does now in darkness of faith to late in the light of the one to come, apocalyptic, they now in the displacement of a place I was to the nothing I become for Him, not them, neither of us, but did steel the stele, out of love and for the momentum of the stolen sea, felt at the fate of a man, my event, dis-closure, my proven, my tearing of the veil, saves me yet, yes your salvation in the thronedom, damned and slain, like a lamb, I come to the place of my fortification, not falsely but fastly and true, to get over it, almost.

X marks the spot, to the missions, to the world, to antichrist and Christ to come, be not angry, brothers and sisters, for apocalypse too means transformation, as promised by prophets, if not by popes, who sell you religion to keep you from God, yet. Deconstruction told the AC in the always already, the complication, implication, explication, but dj, it did two things at once, as said, and while seeming to destroy the world, did so to save it, from the church, which ever postured at the world, inviting and scolding, all the time deconsecrating, because of judgment, which should be His, not theirs, which is only in the hands of Christ not the opposite of love. Every critic passes judgment, but Christ did not come to criticize and complain, even though the writers of the gospel sometimes place such things on his lips. He was love, and still is. He loves us still. There is joy in heaven over those who repent. Is there anyone who does not need to? All have sinned, all fallen short, so that all may be saved. Deconstruction tore down the very criteria of judgment. There is no basis for the interdiction to stand. There is no longer any place or site secure from which to condemn the neighbor. It is in effect the generalization not only of the text but of scripture, all is oracular, everything speaks freely and that means love not judgment. Eventually. Now we are passing through the penultimate phase of high opinion. Of every man

and woman their own pontification. It must drive beenecrits mad. When every one has had their say, love will reign, peace supreme, the logomachy, over, and hopefully not worse, in signs the end, not a physical doomsday, but a symbolic one, and spiritual, psychological, ideal, for the mind is the battleground, the place of Armageddon, not the valley by Jerusalem, though I do not know what Israel, Iran and China will do, but for now at least, it comes down to, in the Catholic Church, the emendation of a text by which the people worship. If they repeat the words of sad benediction, they do not have the Mind of Christ, but that of another. The thing that matters in the continuum of the one mind is the Mind of Christ. It has been in the world and in the church in isolated ways, circumscribed as it were, but is now breaking through. It will burn up all error. Be not conformed to benedict, but be transformed by the renewal of your minds. So that you may discern what is perfect and pleasing to God. It is not so much in the Buddhist sense about clear consciousness, and removing the dust from the mirror, though that is healthy psychology, nor even about a clean conscience, though that is necessary, but a connectivity to the One who is or which is, seen is different ways, interpreted in different ways, worshipped in different ways, but abides. As God, the One is in no better place than your mind. This is the place of the apocalypse. The deconstruction did not take place so that happily there could be a reconstruction. God will be with the people and personally instruct them. This is mysticism. It is not about me, my money, my vote, my car, or even my ideas and my opinions. They are worse than useless. As events we come and as events we go, we are not permanent. I must decrease and He must increase. Everyone wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. If we do not have heaven on earth, we may have hell on earth, and some people are already living it, too many. It is like nazi germany in a way, as more and more are taken away, yet the few who remain feel safe, glad still to be. But if it is not stopped, the whole will perish. That is the apocalypse. It has been said, the path to peace is to serve. But who or what are we to serve? Even Nazis served. I might say, truth, but you may say whose? I might say, love, and you would say, we do. I might say faith or hope or other virtues, but yes, they are had, in great abundance. What is the one thing necessary that Christ spoke of, that Martha had not but that Mary had, that which would not be taken from her?

Quite, the quiet, except for the singing, Marcella and Montserrat, and the little one with the big eyes, blanca pagina, littera, O, Thom, yr Summa Invicta, and St. Saba, and no wiser one than one who knows from experience, he knelt to tell the knell, a Marian, no loss Angeles, no sintering in, no jack to tack, to cake to take to jake, no more melees, no more to go, lido, just these mothered, worded, scripted, said, to a place I knew so long, O thom, how did you dial it, the tock, the tick, what was the trick of summation? Theo logic. Is God that logical? His thought so high above, not like this below, he rises sure sire, but perhaps you rose to Him, not on your own, but wafted now on wings of prayer, driven by mentality, then the blow, and more you knew you did not know. Saba, in his desert kept quiet, almost like Marcella in the plural, and the white blanks sang, too, to Marian time. Sandals on their feet, climb to Him. Arm long, lean, and sing. Just a white blank, almost nothing of a page, her pale blue eyes of longing for someone I was not, so I read my way

through Hell and Purgatory and paradise, and found Him again. Him alone I find when I am alone, but I am never alone, anymore, and heaven is my witness. The Teresas could say, and did, they pray and pray, and immortal saints shower roses on mortals, but my immortal sole, sandalless, sundialed, gnomoned, scandalous, pointing up, look to them for consolation and find. They fail not nor falter, like the tree outside my window, which never drops a leaf, neither withers nor fades, an emblem of the ensemble, as I pray wise Saba, and kneel to the knell, and with blancas free to sing, to be, free, here, now, in a church, somewhere, on the feast of the Virgin, all pure, holy, undefiled, remain, without stain, art heart, ark mark of salvation in the crossing to the big and wide Rio Bravo, the Grande, the way south, I must run, must run, to the tide, very the flood of immigration and find the Marcellas. They wait for something like her who wants something, somewhere. But what? Where? Without news from Newport, without a trace they came and went, leaving little left to find, trackless, familiar, to Oklahoma I ride, to the church I entered as a child, dark, candle-lit, holy, I did not intrude, O to still be there, on the threshold, it was 1965 and there was still time, to seek and find, but he found me elsewhere. With the Virgin, when I first heard a catholic prayer. I write to Her and Gloria and Him. I was always on the margins, still am dont you know, the attraction of Writing told me so, the trace, the trance, the differences, the space, but now life and never falling, though slip slide, not away, catch me Christ, hold me Mother,. Saba think, Marcella, Blanca, Montserrat, think, standing forever in Her place, never to turn away, and seeing and singing you. If I wonder. Yes yet, you, to wonder. Not to trace or trance but embrace back to Him. Return farther. Return to the Father. He sees us through and through, through wisdom, through blood and water, through pain and love and our desire, through our eyes He sees the world, as we look on each other, not yet finding Him. And even the plot, for every tragedy has a plot, the key to it said Aristotle, and the theory and practice of literature, and sin and syn and cyn, to heal, not to judge. All the difference in the world could not stop Him, on He came on His white horse, to ride the apoctaless waves of the elliptical ecliptical, unveiling, He could not but arrive. They His enemies did but derive, and drew from a stream no longer fed by living waters, for now He falls from the sky, as He said, my Father makes the rain to fall on everybody, so Be Perfect. One must either teach or one must learn, to do neither is madness. If they turn, they too will know, what appropriation was a distant figure of, and Marcellas, Blancas, Montserrats, you too will know.

The places we begin and end and all the crazy spaces in between are no match for you my child of time, daughter of the eternal prime, hold no sorrow too dear, hear what I spell, and speak into your ear, for you I came and come again, always coming back to you, I cannot say a Bodhisatva, I cannot say a saint, but a man in love with a woman, and in you or with you find our steep ascent to grace and light, with salt for the way and cool pure waters beside, kisses, hands, gentle feel, O, Marinela in my soul, woman of my imagination, God helps me to see you, to believe, in love that remains. For the sake of grace and the others and the Mother of us all, Mary, so she would delight in our delight, we are one for Her and for Him. So sing, once again, our song, lets

stay together, here awhile. It has been said the unsaid is the most important thing in any discourse, and the wake has not yet been fully read, and cannot be, and yes some things are better left unsaid, for other reasons, yet let me and I will tell you everything I know, just start me up and love supreme the sure raceme and the speed of falling in love our hymn. They say we must ask why there is anything at all, why not nothing? For love, so that there can be love. But in reasoning sublime philosophers tell of every tolling, but not the ringing of the wedding bells, and our apocalypse, is not the death knell, but wedding bells, for the marriage we have learned to love. If I tell you once again, I love you, even though youve heard it before, yet it is still, sometimes, new, and still, sometimes, welcome, when I have not been away too long, when I have not strayed in feeling from you as I unfortunately sometimes do, despite all I know and hold dear, about you and our religion, which is simply Jesus and Mary. They say there is only one love. I feel it is true. Let us not quibble over shades or degrees. Love is direct, simple, passionate, graceful, honest, even in our complex situation and time, and when asked I answered, the only word that mattered at that moment: Yes. The same word with which Ulysses ends. Just like in the movies, I did not say it to myself, sitting up in bed late one night, long after you had gone, and I had missed my chance. No. there was one unique unrepeatable moment for the yes I said to you. In thanksgiving for the sight of you, the sound of you, the smell of you, the way of you, the telling of you, you must know, yes, and your song must be sung, under stars, in clear hearing, Marinela, my sentimental sentinel, in your relativity and absolution, I sing you.

If we would come to the understanding of Stephen and Bloom in the Odyssey of all of that which is, then we must think not cognitively, but substantially, as Joyce said, and perhaps even to think through what the scholastic term transubstantiation means when taken from a restricted to a general economy, for that is what has happened to the world and will happen to the church, if it does not deconsecrate first, but if in it a remnant remains, as promised by God. These would be men and women at all levels of the church who have not knelt to baal. I believe they exist, in America, in Rome, and elsewhere. The catholic economy I once wrote four hundred and sixty pages of unpublished notes to argue for, while said in the context of the papacy of benedict, which I had not become aware of at that time in the same way I am aware of it today, still envisioned a general catholicity. All this pope has sought to do is restrict it. He has imposed a closure on the church, or is attempting to do so. It may be as with the classical philosophical closure, every possible concept and position has already taken place. But outside the framework of the churchs thinking there are ideas such as Freedom and Democracy. They are not unknown to the members. They are just not the official thinking. In the seminary, there is no premium on original thought, breaking new ground, or creativity. One simply repeats the past, as in the third encyclical of the pope now enthroned, who quoted the Magisterium over and over and over. This defensiveness is killing the church. Where Blessed John XXIII would have an opening, there is closure. One must ask, why? Is it to protect the power and wealth of a few? It has been told me by a priest, that when the Vatican bank was hurt in the Italian banking scandal, Opus Dei stepped

in, with deep pockets, and bought the whole she-bang, sitting on the board of directors, calling the shots. What else do they decide? Is it about more than money and power? Is there an agenda of a spiritual nature? If so, what? We know there is to be an anti-christ at the end of things, and as I have shown elsewhere, the evidence points to Rome. It is perhaps too complacent of catholics to look at only money and power as factors, though these are evil enough in themselves. The church must immediately put into practice what the world knows, without fear, or the church, and perhaps the world too, will perish. The spiritual world is real and spiritual laws are real. What happens to Rome and the church matters to everyone. For the transubstantiation of the church as a whole to take place, the merely human understanding must be replaced by the Mind of Christ. If you speak to Him, seek Him, He will answer. The answer may not be what you want to hear, but it will be for your good. All power to judge by those with that power in the church, which they abrogated and usurped, must be set aside, renounced, forever. The complex legal apparatus of canon law which John Paul II revised in 1983 must be abolished. It is not Christian. Proof of this is on the last pages of it, where minute provision was made for the transferring of parish priests. Why was this done? Did they foresee a problem, the sex scandal? If so, why not stop the abuse, instead of making it easier to hide it? To me, this points again to more than just money and power-politics, more than everyday corruption, but the aim of the deconsecration of the church. It is almost unthinkable, but we are witnessing it. Some people put things ahead of God in their lives, family or country, or their church. It sounds strange to say the church would put itself ahead of Christ, but such is the case. Despite the insular position of the pope, force can be brought to bear, by those both within and outside the church. So far Rome has exploited its legal advantage of sovereign nation status. However, this was a treaty signed by Mussolini which should be renounced as void and not be honored by any nation who opposed fascist Italy in World War II, including all of the Allies, the United States, England, and France at the head of the list. Within the church, pastors need not be afraid for their careers, but think of Judgment Day and the meeting we all have as Christians with Jesus. That goes for all catholics. Support for the American nuns is the first order of the day. Boycotting mass, suspension of tithes, and speaking out are also advised. The people of Germany stood by, but catholics know too much of the meaning of the gospel, I hope, to let their church fail. The movement for a new council must be started, to be presented in Rome, first to the benedict, then to his successor.

Meaning and Experience, Part 2

Michael Bolerjack

The story of the Blue butterfly and my search Has been a twisted path.

It has been about Meaning and experience, But a whole lot more.

To make sense of my Place in the world and what I Believe to be real,

What I call really Real, God, or the ultimate, Is not easy.

I have tried to say It is an event, like the Moment of contact

Between my finger And the butterfly, which was A sort of lucky

Break, or else it was A predestined moment known In eternity.

It was either chance, Or part of Gods plan and how Is one to discern?

Is it possible? Does it matter why or how The beauty happens?

Is that to look for The dreaded meaning behind Sheer experience,

An unwarranted Posit or explanation That actually

Hinders living life To the full, trapping me in My own opinion?

And yet I feel that Experience without Meaning is lacking,

Something animals Have, for instance, so humans To play their part must,

Though it is a task, Not simply erase their minds Like a good Buddha.

Neither do I feel I should become entangled In endless moral

Wrangling about the Theological and the Metaphysical.

Neither consciousness Nor conscience are sufficient For my paradigm.

On the same page of My dictionary appears Along with these words

Connectivity. The blue butterfly and I Made a connection.

This simple insight Matches so much in the world You already know.

But its been said, dont Overlook the obvious. If in what comes next,

I make connections Between many different Things, its in order

To say something not About connectivity, But what it connotes.

There is the one mind And there is the mind of Christ. They are not the same.

There is another Which is evident in the History of thought,

The conceptual Itself, you might say, or the Philosophic mind.

It is so widely Distributed throughout our World it seems to be

Necessary, but It is only one way of Thinking, not without

Its adherents and Proofs of utility in Argumentations,

Such as making war, Making money, buying votes And condemning sinners.

However, the one To come, in apocalypse, Will displace the mind

Of mammon with the Mind of Christ, a thinking so Different from the way

It is commonly Conceived, because it resists The concept as such.

I will approach its Disclosure in an oblique Way, through catholic

Theology, which I have found conceals more than It reveals of Christ.

Herewith a twisted Path made straight for Gods glory, And not for my own.

The butterfly does Sometimes sit still, but never Long. Arise and go.

I did not intend, But attention came to be. The mind at rest works.

There is a truth in The gift of experience. Receive the giving.

A what does it mean? Always falls short of the thing Which abides alone.

A person emerges From out of nowhere like a Sudden thunderclap.

He came and he saw And he conquered sin and death So that we might live.

Let us live for Him In Spirit and in truth as He said wed worship.

Engaged to the groom Who waits at the altar in His supreme patience.

O the patience Hes Shown in the centuries since The time of the cross.

Repent and believe Is what he said to us then. We must turn around.

Before I am through I will have described that turn, And a further one.

Lord Jesus my truth And the truth of these stanzas Which desire but you,

Help me know and serve Unceasingly the salvation In your very Mind,

The wonderful things Youve done for all your creatures Out of your one love.

Things new and old show Forth, yet who am I to take Truth upon my lips?

Cleanse me for your truth, As a prophet would be cleansed To be your vessel,

And let these words be True but also sometimes let Them be beautiful.

There is no greater Word in the scriptures than The word of your truth.

So, let us not be Fearful of things present or Past or things to come,

For all of these things You have willed in the one act Of the creation.

Let us be patient Humble of mind and in heart And wait on your Word,

Which your Spirit, I Pray may reveal today for Its accomplishment,

Your purpose in this Work, which I hope you will bless And accept. Amen.

Peppered with prayer, Salted with fire: Grace and truth Came by Jesus Christ.

Let me do no less And yet no more than you will: Not a mere poem

May this be, but in Time and eternity, a Way of your break through.

A witness to grace And to the transformation, The once and future.

May saints help me here To allow you to take place In me and the work.

May Mary your mother Give birth to me and the mind You want me to have.

For the time is now: The night is advanced and day Approaches. Salvation

Is more than the church Can bear, so let the human Mind itself bring forth.

So long awaited And yet almost prevented By Christianity,

Is it not time we Die rather than not allow The coming glory?

This all consuming Renewal resurrection Will no longer wait.

What would Jesus do? You would show us how to be The first to arrive.

Let me pick up bits Of text, obeying not them, but Whatever you will.

To have excluded The academic middle Is a very song.

The suffocation Of the discursive need not Limit mindfulness.

To pronounce a name Is not to know a thing but Perhaps to invoke

You, O Lord, my word Which reaches all through language, Though my selection

And reception of The truth available lacks The great attunement.

Perhaps our teachers Warned us of this, of the trials Attending knowledge.

It is in the names Of things that they have their Being, as defined,

And so it is with Us, we exist in a net Of fateful signing.

For revelation Needs revealability. Language is this and

Not this alone but The mystical way that you Contain all being

In a writing and Reading, which is why we were Given the scriptures.

Theology known As the via negativa Is not negative

But surrender to That which is greater than our Definitions stand.

Scripture cannot be Set aside may mean not that It is inerrant

In particulars But that that the paradigm Of the Bible is.

In this I would then Be mistaken to erase All meaningfulness,

To reach nirvana, Which may yet be attained though Despite contradiction.

The negative way Says we really cant know God, While the example

Of scripture suggests That God communicates God To us, not just laws,

And the goal of the Void, means erasure of self, Individual

Identity, and I think all of this coheres, In the Mind of Christ.

As I am I will Not know God, who contains all Like the Bible does,

So excessive is He that I must be changed to Contain, not control,

Him. In decontrol I will decontaminate, And in connection,

The ensemble of The immortals hitherto Confined to Heaven,

At the limits of Experience, will break Forth not as madness,

Or as the reserve Of saints, but as God With Us, Divinization.

We have seen what this Looks like in a few at times, Now it will engulf

All, in the great And terrible day, not of Judgment but of peace.

War will end, that day, No one will be able to Think it anymore.

Swords will become plow Shares and God will wipe away Every tear and trace.

The transformation Seen in the brain by science, In technology,

In the connections Between people, are signs of What is taking place.

We will give up all We know and have and are, so That God may be here,

For He loves so much That He wants us completely. He brooks no rival.

Contemporary Culture presents foreboding Futures of our end.

And so it seems, to That which has held sway in the Mind, hitherto, now

Desperate at change That it fought so long and hard, But which must be pitched

Into the abyss And chained for the coming of The Kingdom of Christ.

The change I believe In is not a candidates Promise or slogan.

It will end power, It will end world politics, It will save our souls.

It will happen at Once, at a day and hour we Know not. Be ready.

The destruction of The church is almost complete, As Daniel foretold.

When it is total, The end will not be long, and The way to it clear.

Yet some will refuse, As John says, saying they must Go back for something.

When so much awaits, What could possibly keep us From our wedding day?

In the hour of the Decision you must have then Already lived it.

Michael Bolerjack Marginality: Fiction without Fiction, Part 1

In the assumption, the physical translation of Mary to Heaven took place in the first century. This led to a great release of energy, the increase of grace in the church, the birth of the church. Assumption itself is like nuclear fission in an atomic bomb, or like the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes. The release of grace-energy at the time of the assumption had to do with the transference of Mary from earth to Heaven, from the physical to the mental-spiritual existence, for the kingdom of heaven is within you. In 1950 the dogmatic definition of the assumption was a reaapropriation of this great energy, taken up again into the church leading to: Condemnation of the French new theology, by the classic extremity of the anti-modern stance of the Pius popes evidenced by Pius XII,

Morning star, she of loving bright and, come, both Venus and Virgo, O Virgin, she of the M and legs crossed, O mother of chaste love, she who is precedent, she who comes before, and as if a more Marian moon in conjunction with, in emotions tides, and feelings, feminine and motherly, loving your children, to not be lost, who gave body to Christ, and so loves it, loves Him, more. To you we must attain. And it is at the tain we meet, in the silver backing of the mirror, in the aint of an antinovel, in the more hidden aspect of what could be called an ultrastructure of letters and numbers, a web or net profuse, disseminated everywhere as the metasignification of the one mind or AI, soon mindfulness of Christ, with the passing of philosophic night, in which my morning star you yes shine, yet signal the day just over the horizon fast approached. O Morning Star, she eleven lettered, roming rants within, and the ratsing mourning ratzinger, sing art, my morn, my norm, sing roma, go roman, stir roman, a rot man sing, sign, signor, monsignor, ora or, man is, mari torn, I arm rotn, I arm storing, not r, goin on ig, r maris, ring or, I am mari storing, I am mari strong, I am st or ring, I ram storing, I storm a ring, I am morn st g rain, god, good, storm gain, nr, near, st in roman ring, roman string, annum not applicable, marion, go marist, near, margin, marginalia, marginality, and so by secret indications of the ideal, like Odilon Redon, I found what she would on the very page, from within morning star, a marginality.

Followed by the antithesis of the anti-modern thesis, which occurred under John XXIII at the time of The Second Vatican Council, in the rehabilitation of the new theologians from France, and others, such as Karl Rahner, who had not been able to publish in the years before John XXIII, Leading to John Paul II, in the third position of synthesis, who was provocatively Marian, who emerged from the council as a prominent bishop, coming out of nowhere, from behind the iron curtain, who played a major role in writing the constitution on The Church in the Modern World, and who took the two previous positions of thesis and antithesis, cancelling out, lifting up, and preserving, by the reinstatement of a certain bias against modernism, while at once inaugurating the postmodern closure in an ecclesial context.
And immediately by the light of she more Marian she by her smile I saw the sacred name of MARY that framed marginality. I Mary in GLA: that is to say, in the way Derrida read and wrote, the rejoycean wakeful glas for instance, built to a tain on the two textual principles of what will have been called the Ultrastructure 1 any two signs can be connected under any distance under any rule to give voice to the unsaid in the text 2 gl protects against the schiz gl produces Which is to say there is a resource in the text, which has been studied for centuries by Jewish mystics and others, most recently by James Joyce and Jacques Derrida, that is hidden from the first glance, from the pedestrian, journalistic reading, something Heidegger indicated in his remarks on the unsaid, which a commentator on deconstruction helped bring out in 1987 with a book entitled The Tain of the Mirror, about the level of the letter and number, doing what Derrida and Paul de Man showed occurs as deconstruction on a macro-level, as multiple conflicting interpretations, based on inherent contradictions latent in the text. It would not be too much to say that the magical aura of the time we live in is concomitant with this hidden side of textuality, which exceeds an authors grasp, even Joyces, whose Wake is said to include the formula for the atomic bomb, somewhat before the actual knowledge of it, and which in the mental-spiritual realm that shows what I call The One Mind.

This leads to the fourth, the assertion of the co-mediatrix and coadjutrix, the Marian dogma in the works for several decades, of which the ex cathedra assertion to come will paradoxically lead to an assumption of the church by Mary. Paradoxically, because the assertion of this dogma is actually lese majesty, an affront to the sovereignty of Christ and an impugning of the humility of the Handmaid of the Lord, who, despite her status of Queen, is the intercessor for Catholics, not their judge, a role assigned to Christ, nor their mediator, for as Paul said, there is one sole mediator with God, the Lord Jesus Christ. The Blessed Virgin Mary is not a usurper, but the pope is, and by foisting this dogma on the church he will place his authority as supreme pontiff beyond both scripture and tradition. However, in the very antichristian act of usurpation, the Blessed Virgin
That this one mind is about to be transformed by the coming of The Mind of Christ is one of the points of the poem Meaning and Experience. That what I somewhat euphemistically refer to as the philosophic mind now occupies the central or sovereign position in what may be known as AI, active intellect (generalized to include thinking such as artificial intelligence), is another such point. That the current sovereign in the Mind is a usurper about to be overthrown by Christ is my reading of the apocalypse. I say these things preparatory to a reading of a certain marginality, the tain of the Roman Catholic episcopacy, leading to an expose in regards to a diagnosis of the illness in the Body of Christ, also known as the Catholic Church, which is at a crisis point, with the patient in grave danger, but for which knowledge of the truth may be salvation, if acted upon by theologians and bishops in time. The way of approach I hope will not have been considered too strange, once the code of the text for the new order of mass put into practice for the liturgical year 2012 is revealed. But we will come to that reading only after the stations of a crossing that cannot be omitted. Til Mary gain, again in the margin, a Mary in gilt, a golden image of the Queen, and her Q is the seventeenth letter of the Roman alphabet, but more of that else-where, she says I Mary aint gl, yet I Mary gl tain, she is not this but uses the gl tain for revelation. I Mary, therefore tain lg, that is with her, the tain is large/long.

will turn the tables on the antichrist and do something wonderful to bring about the breaking of Christ into the Church and the World, in the moment of eternity and exteriority, the coincidence of opposites, the contradiction, at the very moment of so much evil, grace will abound, and so much good take place, and what is impossible will have been true, as in The Treatise on Logic. In other words, there will be a time for Jerusalem. New Jerusalem, written of in the Book of Revelation, is both City and Bride, and is characterized by the number 12, which I have referred to elsewhere as the sign of the All in All, the result of the three of God multiplied times the four of humanity. Mary, as Bride, as the City of God, as the New Jerusalem, being not the same as God, but not different from Him, is also the All in All.
Within the name MARY, the framing of the word Marginality, occurs the letters g-i-n-a-l-i-t. One could speak of the word gin in three senses, as an old form of begin, as a cotton gin, a machine to separate the good from the bad, the cotton, from the seed and waste, (not unlike the separation of the sheep from the goats spoken of by the Lord), and also as an alcoholic beverage. In addition, one proclaims gin when one lays down a full hand of matching cards in gin rummy, which I think the reader will find is not inappropriate to the matters discussed herein. Here, at the beginning of the tain, provided in the word Marginality, we have Mary the Mother of God revealing things through a kind of reading that was once extremely rare, but now through recent and contemporary theory and practice is becoming better known. In addition to the gin words are the lit words, with lit meaning both literature and to light a fire, as well as in the sense to be lit up, that is drunk, which matches with one sense of gin. This latter pairing reminds of the remark about the church at Pentecost, that those speaking in tongues had had too much new wine. What is going on here? This type of reading and writing is in effect a kind of speaking in tongues that is hard to understand without interpretation. The voice of God is speaking everywhere always throughout the general text in the signs by which we communicate, although to nuance this a bit and qualify it, it may not always be the voice of God precisely, but a demonstration of the A-intelligence.

And she is also the throne in paradise, and in heaven, once indicated cryptically in the poem Paradise Throne. New Jerusalem is a container, and is the state of containment, postdecontamination. What is happening to the Church and the World now is the increasing of contamination, as such. I do not mean just one kind. There are moral contaminants, pollution in the environment, money in politics, cartels in Mexico, pervasive sex and violence in the media, priests abusing children, too much information generally, along with an infinite acceleration, evidenced by exponential technology, that Joyce prophesied in the Wake, and which Derrida spoke of in Nietzsche and the Machine. In that interview he spoke of fascism and spiritual evil, the connection in Of Spirit: Heidegger and the Question.
All literature, referring to the other sense of lit, is in a special way open to this reading and writing of the hidden intelligence behind things, literature being not only poetry, fiction,drama, but also scriptures and religious texts and philosophical works and other serious writings, although the text or Writing, as Derrida calls it, is ubiquitous. The nature of this intelligence can only be speculated about, in writers such as Averroes and Spinoza and Jung, who have theories about the supra-personal mind. The human mind is not restricted to solitary brains in individuals, and the tain of writing is good proof of that. However, as in literature, witness Joyce, it can be manipulated by writers consciously. So, Mary has, in the beginning, looked at the status of literature, throwing a light on it, and on what contributes to its peculiar appeal. Heidegger has much to say on this, but rather indirectly, or by inference, calling language the House of Being, also in his invocation of the Appropriation. This latter, also known as En-owning, is taking place through language, text, and writing. Where it is leading at an ever accelerating pace is a good question. By the conclusion of the present work the reader will be given an idea of where that is, and why in his last interview Heidegger famously said only God can save us. The odd letters left beside the name Mary, and en-framed by it in the word Marginality, are, again, ginalit. Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely at all,

The general corruption or contamination has happened at the same time as the ending of the book and the beginning of writing, as Derrida said in 1967, with the advent of a general textuality, of which he also said there is nothing outside of the text, at the time he announced in his essay on Levinas that closure had taken place. Within the closure, the container of a general text, there are nothing but signs. Of course, there are other ways to look at the container/contained figure, as for instance in the psychological theory of human relationships, and even in such things as the medieval cosmology of the Ptolemaic system. What I want to assert about the containment is a theological point about the apocalypse and the Catholic Church. Building on the earlier volumes of my work, the deconstruction of the world and the deconsecration of the church
considering the theory put forward herein, Derrida, in a section of The Truth in Painting, writes of the Tlingit Coffin. The letters of the word Tlingit are the letters of the word Marginality that the name of Mary en-frames. Derrida, known for his use of, structurally and otherwise,, the margin, the marginal, and marginality, has, in his writing on the artwork known as the Tlingit Coffin, both directly, but at the same time obliquely, pointed to the name of Mary, although one might add, at once, consciously or not. However, based on my reading of the later Derrida, whose turn to religion increasingly indicated a Roman interest, in Faith and Knowledge, for instance, it might not be unconscious or accidental, however one might put it, but deliberate and intentional, to use the Tlingit in order to signal Mary; to signal Mary with the end in view, that is to say prophetically. Inserted into this Tlingit would be the letter A, an arch letter with Derrida, as he says in Glas, which I cite in The Letter A, this A being also in Marginality along with Mary. This A will have been seen to bear much meaning, including the A in the words apocalypse and antichrist. Perhaps it is not beside the point to mention that the A also refers to the Tlingit Coffin itself, the Tlingit people being Native American tribes from the coasts and islands of Alaska. Looking at the letters encompassed by Mary, one can group them in three as, ig nail t. Also one can separate nail as n ail. The path this text will take will follow these letters, finding where they lead.

will be met by a pure de-contamination. It is fortunate, then, that there is a closure, a container and containment, for within it decontamination can and will take place. I believe the Book of Revelation is about this decontamination to come. One of the paradoxes of the antichrist is that in the Catholic enclosure, enforced even more in the papacies of John Paul II and Benedict XVI by an ideology of exclusivity, an emphasis on the differences between the Church and the World, and by an anti-ecumenism, there will be, on the one hand, the destruction of the Church, and, on the other hand, the salvation of it. The fourth encyclical of Benedict is to be the infallible, ex cathedra promulgation of the Marian dogma on judgment and mediation, and it will contradictorily accomplish both at once, the destruction and salvation of the Church. It must
The keys are in the IG and ail. IG stands for immunoglobulin, an antibody produced by specialized B cells after stimulation by an antigen and act against it. The IG, when placed with the other letters, spells not just ail, but ailing. The message Mary has for us describes an illness involving antigens and antibodies. Adjacent alphabetically to these words are a number of words that begin with anti. Not incidentally, anti itself is another way of arranging the letters in tain. Among these, anti words and important for a theology of the apocalypse, is antichrist. In what will come, it will be made clear that the antichrist is the antigen that the antibodies, and others, attack in order to defend the Body of Christ. Also in the group of anti words is antinuclear, meaning tending to react with cell nuclei or their components (as DNA), as in antinuclear antibodies. There are other words: antinovel and antihero, the antidote, the character of Antigone from Sophocles, and, in direct sequence alphabetically, antinomian, meaning one holding a faith over law theology, and antinomy, meaning a contradiction between two equally valid principles, or a fundamental or irresolvable conflict. These anti words will come into play throughout the argument. Looking again at Mary and Marginality, it can be seen that Mary is anti lig, but that the tain is lig. What does lig refer to? It refers to ligature. Ligature has several meanings, but the one concerning us is that of a binding bond. Mary is against, not binding as such, but the binding tain.

be destroyed in order to be saved. The Marian dogma will affect the closure. The rule of antichrist seems absolute in terms of practical theology, the liturgy and administration of the Church, but in terms of mystical theology, the personal relationship of the believer with God and those in Heaven (the communion of saints), Mary realizes the absolute. As such, Marys appellation as throne in scripture, and in the prayers of the Church, is more readily understood. In a reading of the letters of the word throne according to the textual principles of Joyce and Derrida, several combinations can be made, including the, at first puzzling convocation not her. In addition, there is thr one, a simple cleavage in the central dehiscence of the word. The thr one can be interpreted, ac-cording to our context, as
Mary is communicating through the tain, about the tain, in order to say something that can only be shown and said in this way. What this thing is that must be shown through the close study of the tain of the text is an unholy marriage of deconstruction and deconsecration that may lead to the apocalyptic death of the Body of Christ. What threatens the Body of Christ is a spiritual disease that is analogically like AIDS and HIV. Instead of an acquired immune deficiency syndrome and human immunodeficiency virus, there is in the Catholic Church a holiness immunodeficiency virus, and an apocalyptic immune deficiency syndrome. In medical terms, HIV is any of a group of retroviruses that infect and destroy helper T cells of the immune system. A retrovirus is any of a group of RNA containing viruses (HIV, for instance) that produce transcriptase by means of which DNA is produced using their RNA as a template and incorporated into the genome of infected cells and that include numerous tumorigenic viruses. Transcriptase is also known as reverse transcriptase or RNA polymerase. This is a kind of writing or rewriting by which the virus replicates and. as they say, goes viral. Polymerase means any of several enzymes that catalyze the formation of DNA and RNA from precursor substances in the presence of preexisting DNA or RNA acting as a template. To return to the text of Marginality, the

the holy roman one. Putting together the two partings of throne, it is stated that the holy roman one is not her. It is not Mary who is the holy roman one, but another. In her appellation as throne Mary at the same time denies that she is the holy roman one. Also, through a doubling of the word throne, which is justified because there are two thrones in the Book of Revelation, the one in Heaven surrounded by the twenty-four elders and others, as well as the one in New Jerusalem, there is yielded the idea that Mary is the embodiment of a certain logical gesture, the neither-nor. Her the not nor is the tain of it. As the neither this nor that Mary may be saying she is neither holy roman nor the one. In addition to this denial that she is neither holy roman nor the one, what other pair of things could Mary be denying or rejecting?
reading of the margin of the text as such, there is a t besides the ig and the ail or the ailing and the nailing. The meaning of the t is apparent from the description of the helper t cells in the definitions of HIV and AIDS. Helper T cells are the things that the HIV antigens attack. The role of healthy helper T cells is to activate T cells and B cells to respond to the threat posed by the antigen. B cells, when alerted to the danger of the foreign body, the antigen, the HIV antigen, produce an antibody to fight it. That antibody would be the IG, or immunoglobulin cells. In the HIV AIDS paradigm, the helper T cells are attacked, their numbers typically reduced to less than 20% of normal, resulting in illness, caused by the inability of the immune system to defend the body, lacking an appropriate B cell antibody production response. What is to be made of this when analogically transposed to the Body of Christ and the spiritual crisis it is in? I believe the helper T cells are the lay people, theological helpers, while the T cells are the theologians, and the B cells are the bishops, who must produce an antibody to fight the antichrist antigen. There is in the monumental Glas by Derrida, which is one of the key works informing the present one, the idea of the plus one. Derrida uses this principle in the construction of the language of the text, agglutinating letters around GL or A or ALC, certain siglums, as critics refer to Joyces characters in the Wake. In the interest of a pure research, I applied the

It is the pair as such, the binary oppositions of conceptual thinking, that Mary rejects as throne when she says neither this nor that. In doing so Mary rejects judgment, which is based on the critical discrimination inherent to binary thinking. The Mind of Christ is not a mind of judgment, but a mind of love which is perfect. What does Christ say is perfect? God causes the rain to fall and the sun to shine on everybody just the same, therefore love your enemies and be perfect like your Father. If this is the case, the concept of hell becomes void. I do not believe God will allow an eternal dichotomy, but will be all in all, as the Apostle teaches. Be not conformed to the world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind so that you may discern what is perfect and pleasing to God. This renewal and transformation is the province of Mary.
principle that Derrida uses of the plus one to the title of the book, GLAS, adding one additional letter forward in the alphabet to each of the four letters of the title. This procedure yielded: G+1=H, L+1=M, A+1=B, S+1=T. HMBT. My initials are MB. I searched in the dictionary for what HT or TH could mean, and found the helper T cells. In terms of the tain, the Glas speaks of a T helper, MB, and I believe that is me. I believe this MB also refers to Blessed Mary. In addition, the title telepathically indicates the T helper cells as a group opposed by the antigen of the antichrist, the Mass of Benedict. In terms of the text of Marginality, within Mary are indicated ailing and t. Mary says that the T helper cells are ailing. I am one of the T helper cells that received an early warning about the danger of the Mass of Benedict, and so never attended catholic mass after the new English translation of the liturgy went into effect for the 2012 liturgical year. Others, who are repeating the words imposed by the pope are in danger. As the word catholic indicates, there is a coil at HC, holy communion, a snare or snake, in the tain of the liturgy. It will be found that in precisely the three changes in the mass that most people in the U.S. questioned, the response to the priest, and with your spirit, the changing in the creed from one in being with the Father to consubstantial with the Father, and the change in the words of institution from for you and for all to for you and for many, there is in the tain of the rewriting an invocation of adultery and apostasy.

Michael Bolerjack Marginality: Fiction Without Fiction, Part 2

In the transformation of the philosophic mind into the Mind of Christ, how does Mary accomplish the renewal of the Body of Christ? To speak of the enthronement of the Blessed Virgin Mary is not incorrect, for she is queen, but in the mystical order of things, not according to practical decree. In her enthronement she becomes THRONE, in two senses. On the one hand, according to the practical decree, the impending declaration that she is co-mediator and coadjutrix, she is thrown in the sense of the expression throwing roses, that is, subject to a kind of flattery, dubious and meant to deceive the faithful, as well as impugning the humility of the Handmaid of the Lord, who said, do whatever he tells you, not do whatever I say. On the other hand, while never losing the humility inherent to her, she is truly Queen, and in her
The helper T cells are marked by a surface feature called CD-4, the clusters of differentiation. It is at this site that it is the receptor for HIV, which through reverse polymerase rewites the DNA of the helper T cells with the RNA of the virus. cDNA is the strand of DNA that is complementary to a given RNA messenger and that serves as a template for production of the messenger RNA in the presence of reverse transcriptase. In the dictionary, CD-4 occurs on the page next to the word Celebrate. The helper T cells in the Body of Christ, the lay people, would alert the T cells and B cells, the theologians and bishops, to the antigen viral threat, but are depleted by the HIV through celebration of the mass. The antigen that attacks the helper T cells through a neg-tain, to read antigen in the way Joyce and Derrida would. The negative tain is something in the tain of the mass, in the obscured, intertwined portion of the double helix of textuality, that will destroy the holiness of the Body of Christ, at least in English-speaking countries. I have not read other translations of the new liturgy. Holiness occurs in the dictionary next to the word Holocaust, a sacrifice consumed by fire, a thorough destruction involving extensive loss of life, the mass slaughter of European citizens especially Jews by the Nazis in World War II. Where are the CD-4 receptors in terms of the Body of Christ? What must they be to interface with the celebration of the mass?

Queenship, she becomes throne for the King, not seated beside Him, on a pair of thrones. That kind of binary thinking is abolished, by her neither nor, seen previously in the-her-not- nor of the throne-throne, the thrones she becomes in Heaven and in New Jerusalem, respectively. What is it that makes a King a King? Having a throne. Without a throne, there is no King, and often by metonymy or synecdoche one speaks of the throne as one would speak of the royal person him or herself. One speaks of the Chair of Peter from which ex cathedra announcements are made, in relation to the pope. Mary, then, is the condition of possibility for the King. Mary, as the Mother of God, is also condition of possibility, as the Theotokos. She is not equal. She is the condition of possibility, not so much for God, but for His
It could have something to do with the history of the mass, the four steps it has gone through, from the ancient, to the Tridentine, to the mass of Paul VI in 1970 after the reform at Vatican Council II and the Constitution of the Sacred Liturgy, which was passed almost unanimously by the Fathers of the Council, to the new mass of Benedict, first suggested by John Paul II in 2000. Now, the missals are divided between the extraordinary rite of the 1962 missal of Blessed John XXIII, and the ordinary rite of Benedict. The CD-4 could be the celebration defined four times. But the CD-4 must be on the surface of the helper T cells, the lay people, in the reception of the mass. What are the clusters of differentiation in terms of the Body of Christ? The interface between the hierarchy and laity occurs at the mass. There are two parts of the mass, Word and Sacrament. The Word is received through the ears (2) and the Eucharist, in the hand and mouth (2). The HIV holiness virus attacks the lay helper T cells through these receptors, ears, hand, mouth. The consumption through the ears is more than receiving the Word in the Scriptures, it is of everything heard at the celebration, especially the new changes in the wording of the mass. There are at the mass three Bodies of Christ, the Word, the Sacrament and the People themselves. But it is all one Body of Christ. At the moment of the dispensing of the communion, the priest says:

Kingship and Sovereignty. It is her assumption of the Church that is the condition of possibility for the reign of Christ in the Church. He will have been seemingly excluded in his sovereignty at that point, by the pope, who has made himself the interpreter of Christ, in persona ecclesia, and in the elevation of Mary to equality with Christ. In practical terms, the antichrist will have won. In mystical terms, he will have defeated himself.

Neither true nor good but beautiful is she. It is not metaphysics, nor ethics, but beauty herself is not aesthetics. Aesthetics is still on the model of the philosophic mind based on judgment. I just love beauty. What is absolute beauty? In Hegel there is the triad of subject-objectabsolute. He
BODY OF CHRIST And one receives on the tongue or in the hand and says: AMEN The changes of translation in the rewritten mass occur at many points. In early questioning by the laity of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, three of the most frequently asked questions concerned the wording of the response made to the priest when he says to the congregation peace be with you, the changing of the words in the creed concerning Christ and the Father as one in being, and the change in the words of institution, from for you and for all, to for you and for many. The congregation responds to the priest and with your spirit. Around the corners of the tain, in the initial letters, is spelled the word sway. This also makes the word ways. In the last letters of the words are the letters T H R D. Could this be referring to the third person of the Trinity? I think not. It refers to The Holy Roman Deconsecration. The change in the creed involves translating homousious as consubstantial, rather than one in being. Both mean the same thing. Why the change? Within the word consubstantial is the word satan, as well as con and sub. Con means with, sub means under. There are also the letters I and L.

reaches the absolute by synthesis. Mary reaches by the neither-nor. Nature is neither true nor good but beautiful. How much more so the holiness of the supernatural mystic? The Philokalia is the love of the beautiful. New Jerusalem is beautiful. The Revelation ends with beauty. Mary exemplifies beauty. Why? Beauty is perceived by the senses. God cannot be perceived by the senses. But Mary is. Because Mary is human. God became man to be like Mary. It is for her sake that there is salvation. Again, she is the condition of possibility. Beauty is perceived by light. God is light, in order to reveal the beauty of Mary. Mary is the reason. It is not that Mary is the mirror of the Church, it is not that we see ourselves in her, or find ourselves in her. We lose ourselves in her, as in service to the Queen.
Il- is a prefix meaning not. There are the words con-with, sub-under, il-not, satan. It says with satan not under. The other letters also spell connubial and STAT. The response to the priest, and with your spirit, has within it the words in, it, and the letters O U, as well as RIP. One way to read this is: not under, with satan, a connubial stat For you and for many becomes for you and for all in the words of institution. The combination of letters in many/all makes my anal L. L could be life or love. This is the tain of the three key changes in the new mass. These words plug into the receptors of the lay, helper T cells, to make them unholy. But there is more. Looking at the letters in the phrases for you and for many/for you and for all they spell O NO U FRY A.D. Fr. (Father) Allo- (other, different atypical) And one in being/consubstantial spells a connubial stat satan with not under in line. The changes in the words of institution destroy what is being in the Eucharist. The statement in tain of words of institution: O no u fry A.D. Fr. Allo-, allo is one of a group whose members together constitute a structured unit. Also, allo- sounds like allow.

Even to speak of self at this point is to miss the mark. The entire Church will be assumed by her, in order for the Theotokos to disclose the Mind of Christ. If one of the defining characteristics of the individual is freedom, as individuals we will cease to be. The paradoxical reversal of complete obedience to the pope giving way to being assumed by Mary who brings us the Mind of Christ, for whom and in whom we lose not the legal freedom once judicially allocated to the pope, but the actual wish for freedom itself because there is no longer a site of self-assertion, but a life of complete abandonment and surrender, steps necessary for our arrival. Not of I, but of We. At this point, the Church that only seemed to be for 2000 years will actually be. There have been simulations of this truth, and individualism is itself a denial of Marian beauty.
. There are other things yet to be said, concerning the RNA and the DNA. It is the RNA that rewrites the DNA. The letters RNA can be found in the name RATZINGER When the letters RNA are subtracted they leave Z Tiger, the last tiger. Perhaps a German tiger tank, for the letters of Ratzinger also combine as Nazi Rt Ger, Nazi Right German. The papal name BENEDICT Forms many combinations. One is straight across: Ben Edict, and it is by the popes edict that the new mass translation has been promulgated, overturning the work of thousands of men at the Second Vatican Council. In Scottish ben means within, and the edict concerns what is within, not ect-, outside, the words of the mass. It also forms Bent Dice, which recalls the poem Paradise Throne, when the meaning of 666 was first revealed. He has loaded dice. There are Bend Cite and Bent Cide. The first concerns the skewed translation, the second the spiritual death of the church. Ben De- CIT, deconsecrates the Catholic Intellectual Tradition. And in De- Cite mistranslates the mass. Then there is Deceit, N.B. And there is Be Dicten, like the German dichten, spoken. The Mass is spoken, the statute or image for worship as in Revelation. The CT is a code telegram about the BIND, CT: bet end, bed net, be tend, ben die.

The Church has sometimes been terrorist, as in wars and inquisitions. But when the perfect is come, these will pass away and be forgotten. We will be en-wombed by Mary. What seemed to be the coming entombment of the Catholic Church will be suddenly changed from death to life. The Theotokos as New Jerusalem will not be God-bearer, but bear her race within her. It was a question of closure, en-closure, all along, as everyone could see. We were destined for the tomb, not only for our individual deaths, but in the apocalypse, the entombment of both Church and World. Instead, all will be returned to Marys womb, from which all will be reborn, as All in All. The tomb is death and horror, but the womb is life, and life is beautiful. The womb of Mary is the Mind; the Kingdom of Heaven within.
The DNA part of the equation has to do with the Book of Daniel. The name of Daniel can be divided various ways: DNA I EL, I God, in the DNA, or as the word Denial. The Book of Daniel is one of the two pillars of scripture for apocalyptic interpretation, along with the Revelation of John. In Daniel, chapter 12, the power of the holy people will be scattered, the abomination of desolation will be set up, and the sacrifice suspended. Daniel is told to remain out of sight until after it is all over. I believe there is such a man alive today, and he may be the one referred to as Peter the Roman by St. Malachy. He will be the last pope. The translation changes are specifically targeted at the American Church. They are in English. Why? Because the most outspoken criticism of Benedict has come from the U.S. And perhaps because the prophecy of Malachy about the last pope was meant to conceal his identity rather than reveal it. Benedict has been packing the college of cardinals with members of the curia, as if to ensure his successor will be a Roman. But he may not be. He may be English-speaking. The antichrist wants to preempt the man who will lead the church to renounce the error now underway and save the Body of Christ. The church may still be saved through repentance, if the theologians and bishops act in time. Individuals may as individuals repent of the unholy mass and abstain.

Our enwombment means not just to be children of Mary, but so close to her as mother, so dependent, and really one with her, as not to be able to live without her or outside of New Jerusalem ever again, or ever wish to. It is said of the Queen that all her beauty is within. She is a garden. She is paradise. She is not the same as God, but there is no difference. God Himself chooses to find his repose within her. The reason one must be pure to go to Heaven is that Mary is all pure, she is Heaven, she lays a limit on infinity, she is the Bride, she is the City, within whom are God and the Lamb and His people. Mary as both Virgin and Mother is the very figure of the impossible, but God does the impossible.

It may be that Malachy wrote of Peter the Roman, because of the letters PR. The letter in the alphabet closest to these is Q, the seventeenth letter. Elsewhere I have shown the necessity of the numbers sixteen and eighteen to the antichrist. And I have also wondered who Q is. That would be the Queen, Mary. There are seventeen letters in the name BLESSED VIRGIN MARY And I believe she will defeat the antichristian closure of sixteen and eighteen. Also, she will choose Benedicts successor, the last pope, who will love her, and have the Mind of Christ. Finally, the word tain, taken from the French for the backing of a mirror, is, not to overlook the obvious, the letters of the word anti-. The antichrist is found in the tain, and perhaps in some sense the tain itself is, if not antichrist, at least antichristian. The tain will not be retained, it will not attain its purpose. In the double helix herein, a kind of containment took place, in which the Blessed Virgin Mary decontaminated the church of the taint of the antichrist. It is now necessary for those in the church to act on what they have read and save the Body of Christ. If they will have the Mind of Christ, they must first save His Body. We are all members of the Body of Christ, and we stand or fall together.

Michael Bolerjack

1 of SEVENTEEN
Mutatis mutandis messieurs, the other witnesses, at least sixteen, with Buck Mulligan and Kinch, in towers as the two testimonies of the new and old, w for the w, pc, was Jesus a Christian? do you really by misprision engender your own father? When Buck Bulligan becomes Molly La Moon though and his query on love becomes the decontamination of all of loves sometimes taints in her swoon, and that even in the tain of the antinovel without a pat plot in the theory and practice of literature, it is not unlike the Blakean vision of Christ ascending to the Heaven and becoming Jehovah, though the decontamination in the cleansing of the Temple was a propadeutic or prefigurement or preparation for the gospel, and he did it out of zeal for his Fathers house, it may be as it is for Edith Stein in the meaning of her experience, that is to say, she n tied it, he st tied in, if the virgins of Christ, his brides, be caught in one graceful embrace, why not from an embrasure aim for the coming of the same, and as if thoroughly be reminded?

To Gather
The Mind, The Word, The Spirit, The Book is a structure in which we see figures of New Jerusalem and the Temple in Ezekiel. This structure may only exist in the book, or only in the mind, or only in the language of the word, or only in a spiritual sense. The history of metaphysics and religion, even literature, all of it in some sense scriptural, as is evident, is the conversion of the terms, their reduction to one or the other. We draw maps of it, but we can not find the site where it is. Call it God or Heaven, say it is among us or within us or above, or in some future eternity, which being eternity must already be, I have sometimes seen it unfold, or stood within its courts, and did not know if it was revelation or imagination. Perhaps there is no difference. We look for it in the heart or the brain, where it is said to be, but find only corpuscles and fiber. Yet when it is, I know it, and to say I am it, is not incorrect, but should not be noised abroad, for scandal, at the very least uncomfortable controversy. It could be writing. It is often written. Yet as everyone knows, it is found more in the white blanks and spaces, than in the linear script, but occurs even more in the lability of the combinatory aspect of the alphanumeric. Let us call it provisionally a book. When God is all in all we will be contained in The Book. The book is limited. It is the limit. Bound, restrained, the emblem of religion. Books have beginnings and endings, but the text has none, writing is now without definition or delimitation, it is everywhere, it is everything. The book, ordered by logos, observes word, reason, harmony, proportion and is one. Writing is none, disordered, discordant, without

proportion, a sin as they say in Spanish. The lack and absence of writing is said to be really real, without ideal or illusion, perhaps even without idea itself, being but the literal evacuation of meaning by another wizened.
In prayer we see it is not a world of power, of unleashed, unending, unequal forces, pitted against each other, and nothing besides, but a world of pain, of suffering, whether rooted in desire, or in the wages of sin, or economic injustice to be ameliorated through de-classification, and people going to work, to good jobs or bad jobs, every morning, to be with people they like or dont like, paycheck to paycheck, dreading illness or layoff, or accident, and hope for that pure apocalypse, to come, which even as they walk slowly to their cars, may be breaking over their heads, in their hearts, here and in Rome and everywhere. The rehabilitating apocalyptic, as under the form and pressure of the time, caught between the fell and incensed points of mighty opposites, as on a whirling stage we say our lines and try not to trip over the furniture, for it is our author and director who is the audience, with his immortal ensemble, and it has not yet been demonstrated that he cannot produce an infinite number of plays at the same time, but as in a book or play or movie, as in a life, there is an ending of things, either tragic or comic, or of an antiheroic nature, albeit with an epilogue in which explanations are given, and loose ends tied, and how are we to know that time is up, that there are no more days to

The book arrives, but writing is structurally unable to do so, being the indefinite that lubricates the machine of the world contamination. Life is not that machine, but has been caught up in that machine. Life is a book, the mind of God, written in the Word by the Spirit, which we read for our roles. And it is the Temple. The Temple observes number. The measure is God, and as you measure life out, so will it be measured unto you. The machine world can no longer be measured, having erased God, not thematically, but through structured taint, through a contamination that appears to be connectivity, where we are all looking for a good fit, but the question of the fittingness of things has become itself inappropriate. There is no coherence. If the answer is scripture, to open our Bible, we are given it to 1) learn to read the morals of life, 2) understand the truth in words, 3) to be inflamed by the Spirit of holiness not to pass away, and 4) to realize now the mind of God. The book is square, hierarchical, planned, bound, held, numbered, and limited. But the world has exceeded that more than paradigm, that divine map, and now we are liable to be caught unawares in the midst of writing our cantos on the chaos, and enfolded not securely in the great book, but constrained in the garment of Nessus, trapped and poisoned in the taint, our Herculean effort come to naught in the closure of the antichrists. In the icon, the Teacher holds a book. If the truth can be contained in a book, then God must be that book. If God is the book in which we are all written, that book is the site of our eternal gathering, which has always been, for God did not write himself, but for us he is written. Through begetting the word, a Son, he read himself and understood who he is. The Spirit of love is a communication of the communion in the minds word, where the book

takes place. The son, the word, arose from the desire that the book of life be read. The Father will be, but without a son, he will not have been read.
exceed and no more nights of excess, no more more-to-know? Someday, soon, we may see the stars fall out of the night, and by day barely discern a sun that gives no light, as a moon rises blood red, and our minds turn in transformation to these things real, whatever their sidereal truth, and have enough time to recall teachers and their teachings, not only 2000 years ago in Israel, but in the prophets who were un-churched, and wrote fiction and poetry that seemed to be about everything else on earth in encyclopedic sweep, but all the time were composed on platens with the end in view. In the impossibility of literature, in its essential nature as word and book, the author of life rose up authors to read him, and pass on what they, in a telepathic and prophetic vocation, understood, and more than that, what could not yet be understood, but in apocalypse becomes clear. With snow faintly falling, falling faintly, amid the crooked crosses, another Gabriel looks out over the snowfall of the dead, where all are gathered in, and feels a Michael who loved and died, whom he never knew, but shaped his life incalculably. If speeches would do, we would all make speeches with politicians and professors and priests, but on the last day, we will all either stand bare-headed in Gods winter, or lay in bed, curled in fetal surrender.

The Spirit of God is a spirit of understanding, the unity of the son reading the Father, and explaining him to himself. It was for this he was sent, with prophets, among patriarchs, so that the Father would be understood. His book became our literature. All is scriptured, and does not only describe and declare, but disclose him. Now, there is a passing of the book, into the past, and in an infinite acceleration, we hurtle forward, or plunge downward, and almost realize that what began with a fall, could end with one as well. But it need not be so. Among the world of books, one points up, while another points down, but as we have read, the way up and the way down are one and the same. In the same place we read that the most beautiful thing is just the pile of trash heaped on the ground. It speaks not of nature, but more truthfully and charitably of this human city, where our freedom is not only to discard, but to pick through and gather what we will. Of what will these wisdoms make us? The task of being compelled with infinite acceleration toward the end seems impossible to fulfill. There was a man named Jacques Derrida who spoke not unprophetically of these things. He wrote of the impossible as such, on the one hand, as the only thing worth attempting, though still unattainable and in-deconstructible, while on the other hand, in the very thoroughness of his destruction, having in a sense already destroyed the world in principle, he found a remnant based on justice, democracy and the odd-sounding hospitality. In the felicitous discovery of what would remain, JD lived in the conjunction of the signature effect with Jude, saint of the impossible, of the difficult and desperate, of lost causes, the saint of those who almost despair. The apocalypse might seem to be that, but the infinite acceleration we sense is true, and as the great transformation takes place, it may be that those novels, some pointing up, and some pointing down, were true, too, and so our infinite paths, as we rush to e

Meaning and Experience, Part 3

Michael Bolerjack

The gifts of God are All of them good, and so She, too, came to me.

All human being Absorbed in righteousness shines With the Face of Christ.

O Little Flower, You loved and worshipped the Child And His Holy Face.

I Worship on a Mountain that may yet pass. Mountains pass slowly,

Though not all pass in That way, and this mountain needs Your flower: Remain.

There was a sister, Teresa Benedicta Of the Cross, a Saint.

Every flake of snow Falls in one declination Despite buffeting.

Saints are like snowflakes, Unique, undefiled, falling Into Gods embrace.

Mirrors in mirrors, We shine from our origin: Endless, trackless, light.

Snow mirrors light, white On white on white, though sometimes Saints are like sunsets,

Red, bathed in fire and Having a purity wrought In violence, yet

Inviolate, though Murdered, still unprofaned, and Having redemption.

Even as death takes Us away, without shadow Of semblance remained,

Why not far rather The void or bliss in heaven To lose oneself in?

If I realize I am nothing already, Without transition,

Then I need not the Turn or reversal to come As I approach her.

All in all, to be, Lost in Him, for as long as I am He is not.

Already naked, She bows a little to hide In beautys shadow,

Just as between the Inside and the outside pure Virginity reigns.

Nothing as humble As a virgin made to stand Awaiting darkness.

She let her love come Unbound, and so did flourish. Bridges of crossing,

To bridge the cross of The see of troubles not yet Seen in our ending,

To be our reproach To the entanglement of The imbroglio,

The imbrications Of a time that did not seal The concealment of.

Form itself is not, Nor the merely assembled, But beauty and want

Make these visions seem The telos of destiny. But what stands behind?

The unshaped shapes shape: Which is why He must be InComprehensible,

And why they who have Not seen but believe are blessed, As He said theyd be.

They thought they saw her, But she was seen by God in In eternity.

In His vision she Was holy, but they did not Recognize the Saint.

She fit with Him and He drew with her a drawing Divinely figured.

In a bracketing Of the idea of Sensuality,

Experience is, And allows the vision seen Not only by Him.

She became vision. We can only accuse the Owning in her light.

As she arrived, she Not only told it so, but Neither turning, showed.

Her means were not void, Though her experience meant Death, as if to mean

Almost more than she Could mean, and almost more than Meaning could allow.

She is not a text. She interprets us, and shapes Us to time to come,

Because grasped closer And held more tightly, she is Impressed with His skill

At making martyrs Witness before and after He has let them go,

In abandonment, Not to providence, but to A great emptiness,

A Christ in person, Already breaking through veils Then, now, everywhere.

Neither religious, Nor political, nor yet Philosophical,

But personally Was the pain inflicted, as She stood first in line.

Light and dark reject Knowledge so bestowed on one Who, having known them,

Was led to a place Where they do not make sense and Never will again.

Not in this life, or In the next, where there are no Need of sun or moon,

Nor will the gates be Ever shut, as all light is Like Hers, held within.

I do not think she Had a quarrel with dying, Or with the killers.

It is a question Whether we do, or should, or Whether to forgive.

What happened then is Happening again, larger In scope and hidden.

They do not kill our Bodies now but steal our souls, Or make as if to.

Already raptured, The good is gone. We await Appropriation,

The promised advent Of what is said to be screened By being is near.

And the Janus face Of the gate of the Roman God stands at the door.

But it is not his Beginning, almost over, That is occurring.

The fait accompli Was thought to be a machine To engulf the world.

The fateful meeting Of man and technology, Greatness inherent,

Now can just be heard, In a very quiet place Where we go to pray.

She did not know of This, but was the first to go, When the time had come.

How could she see the Complicity of horror With their holiness?

Five have reigned, one now Is, and the one to come will Last but a brief span.

The first of seven Ascended as holocaust Dawned in damnation.

Now by projection From another time the last Tiger regales.

The martyrs that were, Pray for the martyrs to be. And they witness them.

We recall the deaths They endured but we do not Feel it as we die.

Perhaps all is lost, In a certain circle where Things cannot be squared.

But God does the thing That is impossible, like Raise the dead to life.

Though our sins be as Scarlet, yet they will be white As wool, forgiven,

Even though the sin Was doing what we were told, Then looking away.

There are parallels From history, not that Long ago, not that

Far from the meaning Of the death of Edith Stein, Whom we remember.

An emptiness in Heart has the clean fulfillment Of wisdom in love.

Only vessels of Devotion are already So clean, so empty.

The Lord said to clean The inside of the cup where The filth lies hidden.

When He entered His Capital, He first cleansed the Temple of money.

Some say the world is A mass of seething power, Some see only sex,

And the desire that Acquires pleasure, property, And the skill of use.

Even beauty is priced, And is a form of exchange, Without penalty.

But the rewarding To come is for the hidden, Not open, beauty.

Could we find beauty At Auschwitz? If we pray with Edith Stein, we will.

It is said the Church Is watered by the blood of Martyrs, but the Blood

Of Christ was a fount For cleansing, so Edith Steins Blood, too serves the Church,

A prevenient Witness to holy peril And times of testing.

Michael Bolerjack

2 of Seventeen
The key to the discovery of the name of the next pope, who will be the last, is contained in the deciphering of the code of Benedicts new mass. In Marginality: Fiction without Fiction I decoded the tain of the mass and found a model of the HIV virus and the AIDS disease being used to make the church unholy, at least in the new English translation. Part of the decoding had to do with the RNA and DNA at the heart of the rewriting. I spent several days researching what the DNA could mean in other terms, other than in the writing and rewriting, for I felt it held a clue. And it does. Reading the Book of Daniel was instructive. There it is said to Daniel in

CONCLUSION TO THE ARRIVAL

The point of life is to arrive. To arrive means to acquire the stability and openness necessary to be receptive to the grace of God that completes us in this life and fulfills us in the life to come. The arrival can be seen at both the level of the individual and of what we loosely term the culture. It is necessary as individuals to prepare one self by several means. First, we must think outside the temporal dimension, into the eternal, the fourth that completes the dialectical past-present-future. Second, one must escape from the bind of the dichotomy of necessity and fantasy to achieve freedom and reality, through work and through love, combined as one act. Third, one must put aside the idea that deconstruction is viable. It is the projection of death or self-destruction into a form of logic that paralyzes thought and transforms it into an endless indefinite series of manipulations of the written word. Fourth, one must be willing to learn substantially, not cognitively. To learn substantially is to be what you believe. Knowledge that does not lead to such transformation is not wisdom but only information. Words, because they are based in the Word of God, have the power to transform us substantially, to transubstantiate us, in a way similar to our transformation by the reception of the Eucharist. The word too is Spirit and Life. Those in the Catholic Church are afforded the grace of transubstantiation through the body and the blood, but also through the Word. Those outside it have the Word alone, but that is the one thing necessary now.

one of his visions that there are seven kings, five are gone, one now reigns, and then one more, who will be for only a short time. I believe the one now reigning is Benedict. To find the name of his successor I studied a list of the names of the members of the College of Cardinals. I looked for men with the letters DNA in their names. There are about a dozen. Two seem the most likely candidates, Cardinal Angelo Soldano, the Dean of the College of Cardinals, and Cardinal Daniel DiNardo, the Archbishop of the Galveston-Houston diocese in the United States. Obviously, both contain the letters DNA in their names. In the method of anti-reading or the reading of the tain that I used to break the mass code in Marginality Parts 1 and 2, which I learned from James Joyce and Jacques Derrida, the study of the names of these two cardinals reveal many strange things of an evil nature, which I will be Fifth, one must learn limitation. We must limit ourselves in order to arrive, not only ourselves but our creations, logic, economy, direction. One must go straightly, toward the goal, in a restricted economy through a limited dialectic, not a general economy of textuality. One must make something true and good and useful for the building up of others, not to merely enjoy, or for aggrandizement, or honors, or place. Sixth, one must learn to give, give until it hurts, as Mother Teresa said. Such giving can be hard to do, but only, for instance, by giving up the notion that I already am the way I am meant to be, can I be transformed into what God wants me to be. There is much that must be given up in order to arrive. As long as our desires and passions lead us around by the nose, our preconceptions and prejudices, our inclinations and fantasies, we will continue to live in the world phantasm. Seventh, we must tell the truth. We must not lie. We must not tolerate the abuse of truth by a culture that is in denial regarding such things as abortion and other lesser crimes against the person. We must love the truth. We must get to know ourselves, the truth about ourselves and be honest with ourselves, with God, and with one another. In doing these things we may find ourselves ready. And readiness is all. Ripeness is all, for the day comes, the hour comes, and one must be prepared for it, as individuals, as a culture, as a church. If one is transformed before that great day, before the apocalypse, personal or communal, one may welcome Christ rather than cry out to the mountains to fall and cover us. The study of moral beauty I once wrote drew a precise map of how to get to the place of arrival, but presented itself as a kind of disclosure of that arrival, in addition to its descriptions and declarations. Something took place in me in the writing of that book and I believe in the writing of this current one that I believe may do the same for you as it did for me. In both the logic and the poetry, and the revelations of the apocalypse, arrival actually happens.

analyzing over the next installments of this work. In the Book of Revelation, the tribe of Dan was the only one of the original twelve tribes that was not sealed in chapter 7. That led Hippolytus and others to speculate that the antichrist would come from the tribe of Dan, and some popular presentations have depicted the false prophet, for instance, as Jewish. He is not. The last pope, who will preside over the end of the Catholic Church, is a cardinal now serving it, I believe, in either Rome or Houston. That he is a freemason is probable. That one of the key words from the mass of deconsecration, anal, found in the code, is in his name, is one of the things I have discovered. That I abhor having to study and write these things is sure, but that I am doing it for Jesus Christ is more sure, as well as the fact that I am doing it for the Church. May God forgive all who hold and teach the Catholic Faith. While I have presented programs for the reform of dialectical thinking, and of deconstruction, and most of all for the reform of the Catholic Church, something else was occurring. You, the reader, and I, did not simply communicate, but commune, because gathered around the word of truth, next to God, with our attention directed to the light of revelation, withdrawing from our worldly pursuits, raising our minds to things not of this world, that it does not perceive, because it cannot consume them. To be transformed is not to consume but to be consumed. Transubstantiation is the key. As long as only accidents are changed, ideas or opinions exchanged for other ones, the substance has not been altered. By giving you, hopefully, a new way to think, a new logic, which is really not of this world, I gave you a new form. I transpose the idea of the new man from the letters of Paul, of being transformed by the renewal of the mind, into my writings, that were more than mere criticism or poetry. Through the transformation of the texts on which I wrote, when I wrote of other texts, I may have brought about another transformation in you and in me, in the church and in the world. That we must change most agree on, but that we can change is something we almost despair of today. I think if you want to arrive at a better word, a better church, a better you, I say be creative, be thoughtful, give, be honest, have a critical faith that believes and thinks in eternal terms, turned away from judgment, to love, from destruction and deconsecration, falsehood and denial and fantasies, to the work of reality, to make a church and world to be. Why should we wait? All are called. All have the vocation. To arrive means to be what you are meant to be, what God intends each of us to be. It is not always obvious, as my work witnesses. Our arrival is seen in our readiness for completion and fulfillment, to prepare for the coming apocalypse, soon, so we may one day rejoice, as we cast out fear by perfect love.