The Zebratta Poems

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• Introduction: The Visionary Landscape
• Trial in Zebratta
• Inquiries Upon the Zauberberg
• The Salted Men of Carthage
• Eyes of Blackened Flame
• Hurting Wants its Hurting
• The Dragon-Crowded Vision
• Caldera Inferna
• The Canticle for the Sun
• How Many Hells? Ordeal in Agenor
• Summa Regrade
• Retrograde Motion
• Mission
• Appendix: Symbols in the Epistle

Introduction:  the Visionary Landscape


This book is a work of visionary allegory.  Visionary allegory has been described, most recently and eloquently, by Paul Piehler in his scholastic work, “The Visionary Landscape.”  His thesis is that visionary allegory, the dominant mode of medieval literature, describes psychic events, and that such literature serves a purpose of soul healing.

Such is the nature of this work.  I have gathered a series of poems I penned between December 1990 and May, 1991, and in collaboration with painter Jen Hart, have distilled from my first published volume, “Epistle to the North Americans” the visionary allegory of Zebratta.

The chronology of the poems has been preserved:  the paintings have a different chronology, which is noted on the plates.

Zebratta, I have come to understand, represents not so much a private landscape of my own psyche, but something larger, the presentation of a modern visionary allegory, with its own symbology.  In the medieval visionary allegory, the city represented  the rational conscious process.  In the modern language of allegory, however, the city is no longer a rational nor conscious landscape but rather, like Milton’s Hell, an edifice of peculiar intent, with its own rationality, sprung from an unruly will and left to grow according the particular logic of its inhabitants; in the words of Milton’s Satan:  “The mind its its own place, and in it self/ Can make a Heav’n of Hell, a Hell of Heav’n.” (Paradise Lost, I.)  There is an intimate relationship between the modern city of Zebratta, and Milton’s Hell; and like Hell, is a landscape that is traversed only by the mind, a mind ‘not to be chang’d by Place or Time.’ (idem)

E. L. Van Hine
December, 1999

 

Trial in Zebratta


Cold from winds on Evan plains
I sought the woods of Lynn
And there I found Zebratta's shades
And disappeared within.

How often did I wink
When I beheld his ravening smile?
We crouched upon a catwalk
Overlooking Lynn
And we spoke in crowding whispers
Of my agonizing trial
Which would begin in earnest
in Zebratta's gloomy heights
We strategized in secret
As we gazed upon the lights

I winked and turned away
When I beheld his ravening smile
And did not see

The promise of a pointless
Endless trial
So eloquently spoken
In that cruel and broken smile.

- for Franz Kafka

12/7/90
 

 Inquiries Upon the Zauberberg

Glossary:

Nuremberg (Germany): The scene of the famous telecast trials of the surviving Nazi leaders found responsible for the genocide of the Jews.

"Ich kann Sie nicht verstehen": "I cannot understand you."

Heidelberg: A university city in Germany.

Zauberberg: The Magic Mountain, a novel by Thomas Mann about a mountain resort for consumption (tuberculosis) sufferers.

Shade: (archaic) Ghost. "Riddle shade" a ghost or spirit of uncertain identity.

Zebratta: A mythical place of symbolizing suffering and torment.

Lynn: A mythical woodland symbolizing a condition of confusion and transition.

Spire: A constructed feature of uncertain geographical importance in the city of Zebratta or near its periphery which the narrator appears to have to scale in order to enter the city.

You bade me stop amid our flight
On sails of gold and wings of white

And came upon a haunted wood
Near a mountain carved from night.

And you said go and scale its height
And once within
You should inquire.

Don't leave me, Numen!
As I climb Zebratta's gasping spire

But you departed while I stood
In Lynn's beshadowed, haunted wood

And there, inquired
As you said
To find that riddle shade
And I approached on foot
Alone

And they stopped and frowned at me
Like killer-thieves at Nuremberg
Dismissing with their Gothic words
"Ich kann Sie nicht verstehen."

I stood within the haunted wood.

Sustain me now! don't leave me
In Zebratta's bloody heart!

But you kept peace as I advanced
With frozen blood and fear that lanced

And there, inquired
Hope on dread
To spy that ravening smile

And they paused and glared at me
Like graduates at Heidelberg
Repelling with their Gothic words
"Ich kann Sie nicht verstehen."

I walked the city's bloody heart.

Return me now! to life outside
Zebratta's smoky dens

But you were silent as I spoke
In taverns full of reddened smoke

And there, inquired
Of the dead
Or only lost and mourned.

And they turned and peered at me
Like invalids on Zauberberg
Who rasped consumptive Gothic words
"Ich kann Sie nicht verstehen."

I left the tavern red with smoke.

I joined you then, beyond the gate
Descending from the spire

And we were weeping, hands to face
As we forsook that bleeding place

Where I inquired
Hope on dread

Where I had walked
Among the dead

Where I had sought him
Where you led

And where they gazed on me
And said

In rasping words of Gothic strain
"Ich kann sie nicht verstehen,"

Where then we met
And then we fled

The Zauberberg at night

And with opened wings aloft
Began our outward flight.

- for Mann and Kafka and a few others

12-10-90

Carthage: African stronghold of Phoenicia, defeated and obliterated by the Athenians under Cato during the First Punic War.

The Salted Men of Carthage

They huddled in the streets agape
In view of our Empyrium
And I beheld their beating fear
As I paused and gazed at them.

And I spoke in Gothic clear
"Verstehen Sie, unfreulich Herr?"
And they recoiled and withdrew
And then I saw them;
Then I knew
That I beheld no Goth in face
No dweller in my native place
But refugees of Carthage.

I first approached a saddened man
Who seemed entranced with Himmel's grace
I tapped him gently on the arm
To try and help him understand.

But he drew back with great alarm
When he saw my golden hair
Perhaps he thought I meant him harm
A native of this strangeling land.

And when I spoke and said to him
"Verstehen Sie, unfreulich Herr?"

He quivered then in blinded fear
For he had come across the sea
Cringing as he fled from me
His ruined sword within his hand
With downcast eyes, a broken man
A refugee of Carthage.

And not a woman could I see
Among these broken lives
For all had seen their children bought
And all had lost their wives
None could stay and then rebuild
Among the saline rot
For they were lost when Cato fought
And won the shores of Carthage.

How could my laughing eyes deflect
Their vision of the deathless fire
Razing all their life to death?

How could Himmel's light reflect
The beauty of its angel choir
When smoke choked out their very breath
Crouching cold beneath her spire?

For when I sang a hymn to them
And bid them enter Himmel's cheer

They decamped and drew away
Ignoring as I called them near
They could not speak
They could not hear
For they were caught in nets of fear

When they had fled, I said a prayer
For I had seen that aching day
In raging of the deathless fire
The vision bidding them to stay
Within its hungry, reddened ire
The salted men of Carthage.

12-11, 12-12-90

Eyes of Blackened Flame

I was all and darkness led
Before the Numen came
I lay upon the nether lake
With eyes of blackened flame.

Never had a voice so sweet
Resounded in that place
When Numen woke me from my sleep
And turned my eyes toward space.

He wakened me from deep within
A mad and frozen sleep
He gave the mystic stone to me
And mystic jewel to keep.

There is gratitude for living
Among those who now draw breath;
But it always runs most deeply
Within those who wake from death.

12-20-90

 

Hurting Wants its Hurting


If I would be a servant
Then I would better heed
Taking guidance from the Cosmic
I would live a simple creed.

I would not ask the pain to stay
From masochists in need
Their freshened blood will rinse away
If I would let them bleed.

For hurting wants its hurting
Within those shame-filled hearts
While minions of Zebratta
Work to tear the world apart.

They would seek to draw me in
And whisper easy lies
And I would be misled by them
And I would be their prize.

They would have me heal the scars
Inflicted by themselves
I would return to prison bars
Within their bitter hell.

I will not be the chattel prize
So easily won with wrath
I would rather don my mantle
And pursue the Golden Path.

12-21-90

 

The Dragon-Crowded Vision

Dragons poised atop the churches
Fanning green and garish wings
Hear below, the Latin dirges
Rise above their murmurings.

They await their human charges
To emerge from Christian toil
Load them on Zebratta's barges
To be tossed into the boil.

And there fulfill their vision
Of a fire-breathing Man
Who consumes all in derision
Who defile his Holy Land.

But that is not religion
Which I seek on bended knee
Not the dragon-crowded vision
Of a crazed divinity;

But softly spoken radiance
A halo of that higher love
Which speaks in great benevolence
And shines its single Star above.

Millions in Zebratta cry
To witness for the wrathful Son
Who pierces with his baleful Eye
The sinning mortals, one by one.

Himmel has no King of Hate
No Jehovah wielding flame
All seekers know its shining gate
Beyond the crowded lands of shame.

So ignore the dragons grinning
As they wait on churchhouse spires
Coarsely humming as the sinning
Seek eternal raging fires.

Seek the silence of the deep
Simple prayer will speak to Him
Love awakes from inner sleep
Love will draw the Angels in.

I have seen the single Star
Riding bright in Heaven's cart
And I am carried fast and far
To dwell in God's immortal heart.

12-21-90

 

Caldera Inferna

Ah, the minions raise their wthey discuss my fate
Awakened by their scratching at my grate
Alarmed, I see the black and gleaming eyes
Mirroring the pride I now despise.

Oh Zebratta will you ever come to me
As tangles grow in brambles endlessly
And send my foes to sing their wicked song
And spirit me from earth where I belong?

Will I ever fall to sink so low
And allow the tangled lying brambles grow
And take from me my candle's holy spark
And cast me, blind again, into the dark?
Justice will be served if I will kneel
Releasing from my soul the deadened steel
Of power that was never mine to take

And flee the mists that rise
Like the pride I now despise

From the demon-glowing eyes
Of wraiths in flowing mist
From hot Zebratta's boiling lake.

12-29-90
 
 

The Canticle for the Sun

And so I leave Zebratta's blackened shores
Where rusty leaves are swept into the bay
The tired faces fade from red to gray
And fruits conceal their wormy, rotted cores.

I saw Helios rise into the Sun

What rare and perfect canticle
Could I give the rising of the Sun?
As I departed ruined shores
And ripened fruit with rotted cores

I left the ship and walked the pier
And listened to the Sun
It played on strings within my ears
And Sun and Song were one.

What sad, lamenting canticle
Could I give the setting of the Sun
As it snuffed Zebratta's candle brief
Stilled to silent grief?

I climbed the hill and heard the call
Which echoed from my Song
And there I watched Zebratta fall
Until its shore was gone.

12-30-90
 

How Many Hells?
Ordeal in Agenor

He leaves me at the border
As we descend from space
It is the realm of Agenor
Zebratta's hidden place.

I must traverse this hell alone
Ordeal of soul by night
Furthest reaches seek in blindness
For my only source of light.

It is as cold as evil
Shadows loom as black as ink
I cast about for Numen's light
And there, perhaps, a wink.

Is there a wink on the horizon?
Is there a harbor light?
Will something shine and land here?
Will something come tonight?

The druids stand in ragged ranks
They scan the naked shore
Their faces stare in eyeless blanks
The damned of Agenor.

How many hells have they traversed
To find this endless beach?
How many demons heard they curse
A mad and mindless screech?

Is there a wink on the horizon?
Perhaps the Numen lights.
Will something shine and land here?
Will Numen come tonight?

How many hells have I traversed
To find the druids blind?
How many deaths have I rehearsed
In terror in my mind?

Lift me out of Agenor!
I cry to Himmel's height
Bring me from this boundless shore
Of dark and hateful night!

The lizards shift their ponderous weight
Upon their basking rocks
Their scales knock on the steaming slate
Like madly ticking clocks.

Is there a blink on the horizon?
The hooded blind men stare
Will something shine and land here?
And drive them from its glare?
The gaping reptiles gulp and grin
Cold beasts of Agenor
They watch me struggle with my sin
Upon their starving shore.

How many hells have I now dreamed
In naked frozen fear?
How many demons fought and schemed
Within my ringing ears?

I beg relief with empty hands
I cry out for my soul
To free me from this sterile land
Release me well and whole!

There is a light on the horizon
Casting all in shadows stark
When the Numen comes to take me
Druids fade into the dark.

How many hells did I traverse
Upon that horrid shore?
How many hatreds did I shed
When I left Agenor?

And shorn I come, and humbled
To the gate which borders Dyne
All my pride within me crumbles
While I drink the Numen's wine.

How many hells have passed beneath me
Now I see with opened eyes
How much gold they have bequeathed me
As I stand on Himmel's rise.

And all the priests are chanting
For salvation of the One
While the druids start their ranting
In the depths below the sun.

There is a sun on the horizon
Rising bright on every shore
And every priest in Dyne is praying
For the damned in Agenor.

1-12-91
 

Summa Regrade

Greying dark aloft from Himmel
To hear an Angel on the wing
Thence to send an army back
Across the borderland of night
Into ships of wood and iron
After days of hasty flight;

Sailing swift through bitter waters
To the necromancer's pool;
Gathering thorns in hidden caverns
Where human souls await the scale...
Regrade shadow blacks to ink
As wretched druids wail.

2-22-91

 

 

Retrograde Motion


1. Breaking Out of Time

There is no time. So they write: Time is the greatest illusion
of physical life. Those who refuse to bow to the tyrannies of
time have torn away the thickest veil of illusion which
hypnotizes humanity and immediately enter a state of greater
spiritual receptivity.

The hierophants of Dyne speak in detail of the evolutionary
process, its gradual ascent to perfection, the meaninglessness of
time:

Numen, could the time not matter
Within the gates of Dyne?
Could I ascend that ladder
And be free of tyrant Time?

For as they say:
All time is an illusion
If I remain within its grasp
I live in a delusion.

Free me from Zebratta's hand
And lift me out of time
They gave me, poet, all those keys
But I can't find that land.

2. Unbound from Spells

I have gone back to all I have written in the past year of
poetry. I have written a thousand thousand pages, it would seem,
some of them brilliant and shining, guided by the hand of the
Numen, and some slack and dull,

I cannot say the spell I seek
It comes from realms beyond
The old familiar hells

Shadows edge the forest ponds
Reflections cast those spells.

3. Handel's Birthday

Dactylic Baroque, majestic music soars
Chamber music, from my chamber freed
Iambic for my ears, to fill poetic need.

How luckily for me
Was Handel born today
For rhythm beckons bodily
And now Baroque holds sway.

Lento, lento violin
Draw my taut emotion in
Then pluck a lone viola string
To keep its tone encouraging.

4. I sang a prayse

I sang a prayse to God and wept
And while he listened
Deep I slept
He answered full my lengthy prayer
And spread his Glory through the aire.

For though I believe it every day and say it, and live it, do I
really know that no matter how far I go there is further to go,
that no matter how many lives are lived, there is more life and
yet more life? Isn't this what I always wanted to know? Do I
listen, do they really tell me that partialness will become
wholeness without my trying?

5. Take Me to the Heights

And while the violin
Sings beauty out of noisy din
I will seek the Numen
In the deep and empty mines
Finding light in tunnels
Along the channeled serpentines.

Do we have world enough and time
To give this land a pleasant clime?
Is this our burden to bestow
To send our love to earth below?

Ah, Numen, sometimes I feel so lost along the corridors of time,
and weary soon of this steep climb.

Take me with you to the heights
Where I can glimpse at last the might
Of Himmel in its radiant noon
A hundred suns, a thousand moons!

Bring me to the inner keep
Where mystic nests of serpents sleep
Among their golden ornaments
Redolent with frankincense

Bring me, Numen, to the Star
And heal at last my wicked scar
Take me with you to the heights
And show me all of heaven's sights!

6. Flags of Iron

Will we go? when will we go?
When all the time is lost
When all my hope is gone
And all my loves are weather-torn?

And where will love remain?
When all the soil blows to sand
And flags of iron wave in sheets
Above the wasted land?

That was Agenor.
The deepest well I ever had explored.
I walked among its living dead
And scanned its naked shore.

I left a penny for the dead
Who lived along the beach
And never glanced behind for dread
Or peer into its breach.

Ah, that was Agenor.
The blood I lost was poured into the winy sea.
I ne'er looked back, for I refused to be
Chained again, Promethean
Dying piece by piece upon the blackened rock
In haunted dreams of madly ticking clocks.

The serpents drew their flattened heads aside
And calmly grinned as they observed the tide
It rose in waves and lapped upon my feet
While they awaited meals of salt-fresh meat.

But that was over, so I thought
And all the nightmares fell to rot
Until the dark descended on the sky
And once again I heard the ragged cry.

And then the rain began.
And all the colors bled and ran.
Wooden planks were soaked with salt and brine
Drawing blood into the sea like wine.

And that was Agenor.
The place from which I thought I had escaped.
I stood on sand and watched as lizards gaped.
And waited death upon the hated shore.

And it ended once again.
The rain had danced like slivers on my skin
And was no more
And all the mists retreated from the shore
And all the land was gone
And beams of colored light created dawn.
It was no more.

I could not decide:
Between the light above me
And below, the bloody tide.

6. Will We Live Forever

Will we live forever in this wise
And wait between our nightmares
For hope again to rise?

For I waited out the morning
For the sea to wash to sand
I sought the far horizon
Of a cold and futile land.

7. The Devil's Maze

I gave the Lord a song of prayse
And slept within a devil's maze
But soon He stopped the bloody play
And answered full my prayer this day.

For so the voices speak from Dyne:

The experience of pain should be welcomed as confirmation that
the nervous system works properly and is not numbed by anger.

2-23-91

 

Mission


The Numen sent me on a mission to the fire
Which shines unholy red upon Zebratta's spire
Where I abandoned once the child I had borne
When he had helped me flee the city's hail of scorn
Escaping from the darkened wood to refuge on the plains.

The haunted wood of Lynn remains
Like pillars girded fast with chains
I saw it clearly from the heights
And I took leave of Numen's flight
To bring the child of Zebratta home.

I felt the hatred of the city in my bones
I heard the mutters, and the whispers, and the groans
And the hissing of the seven-headed dog
As he reared in anguished fever from his bog
When I erased the shadows and revealed the hidden child.

I walked again among the fallen and defiled
They clutched at me with cold cupidity and smiled
The fallen empress fleeing like a thief, alone
But undeterred, I sought the place of weeping stone
Where she awaited rescue from the enemies of light.

Zebratta's prison towers shine at night
With reddened ire, maddeningly bright
And the torture fires glow
As we rejoin the Numen on his flight.

5-16-91