yesterday my friend Guillermo Gonzalez, the guitarist with Banda Elastica, some of whose work can be heard in this gallery, stopped by to give me a listen to a recording in progress of some additional choral music he was composing for "Penelopea", a theater piece based on Homer's Odyssey.

the selection here is called "Hades".

this morning a dragonfly landed on the window of my workroom, and not long after Book XI took form. [the rest as they say is history*]



The production was directed and designed by Susanna Frank, with an original script by Manuel Lavaniegos inspíred by the Odyssey of Homer and "Sed de Mar" of Esther Seligson. It premiered early this year in the Mexico City Theatre for the Fine Arts to wide critical acclaim.

*the bracket above was added on 1.06.06 when sufficient books had been translated to reposition them in numerical order rather than order of composition.

Book XII

I've seen this face before.
It was in thirteenth century Provence,
or on the way back
from bleeding in Jerusalem
or at the entrance of a peculiar little theater
down some lonesome alley
or whapped on DMT—a brazillion of such faces
coursing through my blood
Leonardo Da Vinci was trying to re-route the Arno
to the advantage of Florence
it was that scheme he and Macchiaveli concocted
it had nothing to do with Calypso
or any other drum beat
I left my heart
just where it was
it didn't help
so what if the shrapnel detonates
across symmetrical spaces
so what if webs of unnameable chromatisms
integument subspace
the elephants will not return to their immemorial burial grounds
the worlds for which their intentions are responsible
will not be renewed
I am so old
I can't remember that word for mother-of-pearl
I used to try to sneak into poetry
nacreous, yes nacreous
so what if the background is nacreous
and the sweetest luminescence
is possessed of an occult swirling
strophalingos is greek for that kind of angular purturbation
that suspends Nature (physis)
from Great Hekate
on the left side of her womb
a hollow full of lumpy gruel
gushes abundantly
it is the primordial fount of psychic fluid
while on the right
her hymen remains intact
the Oracles say
and it ain't symmetrical
-------------

Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
19.05.06
---------------

XII:

Lampetie, the daughter of Helios, who snitches on the companions when they slaughter the cattle, together with her sisters Phaethusa, mentioned here, and a third one, Aigle, who will be a mistress of Apollo--are the Heliades who accompany Parmenides and lead his horses to the gates beyond the paths of day and night. Their mother is Neaira,
"the New," as in New Moon, as Kerenyi says--so these girls are the daughters of the Sun and Moon, clearly of proto-alchemical provenance, and to be distinguished from their three half-sisters, Medea, Hekate, and Circe, with a different mother, sorcerreses all.

--------------------------------

BOOK XII

But when our ship left the stream of the River Okeanos

and returned from the waves of the open sea

to the island AIAIA

which is the house of the early dawn

where the nymphs dance the rising points of the sun,

we beached the ship on the sand

and we ourselves fell asleep on the shore

and awaited bright dawn.
And when early dawn with rose-colored fingers appeared,

I sent my men to the palace of Circe

to fetch the corpse of Elpenor

and, swiftly cutting timbers

and taking them to the outermost point of the beach,

we performed his obsequies

grieving and letting flow copious tears.

When the corpse and the dead man's armor

were consumed by the flames,

we heaped up a tomb mound

and set a pillar upon it

and into the top of the mound

we plunged his well-balanced oar.

We busied ourselves with these tasks,

but our return from the House of Hades

had not eluded Circe.

With particular haste she prepared herself and came to us

and her maid servants were with her

and provided bread and plenty of meat and flaming red wine

and the bright goddess stood in our midst and said:

"Extravagant men, who went down to the House of Hades though alive,

two-time diers, while other men die only once—

but come—eat food, drink wine, right here this whole day through,

and when dawn comes, set sail

and I will chart your course

and indicate each particular

so that through no faulty planning

will you generate fresh woes for yourselves

on account of sea or land."

So she spoke,

and our hearts were persuaded

and all day until sundown we feasted

on abundant meat and sweet wine

and when the sun sank and the dark came on

we lay down by the ship's stern cables

and she took me by the hand

and brought me away from my companions

and sat me down while she herself lay down

and asked me about each detail of our journey

and I told her everything just as it happened.

Then Circe addressed me and said:

"These things have thus come to pass.

Now give ear to what I am about to say to you—

and a god himself will bring it before your mind.

First you shall come to the Sirens—

these beings enthrall all men who do come before them:

whoever draws near without knowledge

and hears their voices

will never go back home again,

that his wife and little children

might stand beside him rejoicing,

but the Sirens cast him under a spell

with their pellucid song

sitting in a meadow,

with a great heap of the bones

of rotting men about them

shrinking beneath their shriveling skin.

But you must row right on past them,

having stuffed the ears of your men

with honey-sweet bees wax that you've kneaded

lest any of them should hear.

However, if you yourself wish to listen,

have your men bind you hand and foot to the step of the mast;

let them tie you tight with the ends of a rope

so that you might thrill to the two Sirens' voices,

and if you implore your companions

or even command them to set you loose,

they must bind you with ever-more cables.

Now when your companions have rowed on past these Sirens,

I do not tell you in detail what the path should be,

but you yourself must consider this in your being—

I but set out the alternatives.

On one path you come upon high beetling cliffs

against which a great wave of black-eyed Amphitrite dashes

causing an uproar.

The blessed gods call these The Planctae.

Not even winged things pass by them,

not even the timid-breasted pigeons

who carry ambrosia to Father Zeus,

but the smooth rock always snatches one of them

and the father always sends another in to complete the count.

No ship of men has ever yet escaped the place

but waves of the sea and storms of raging fire

bear away the planks of ships and the bodies of persons—

except for one ship, the famous Argo,

sailing from Aietes,

and even she would have been smashed against the enormous rocks

had Hera not sent her through

because Jason was dear to her.

On the second path—two crags.

One reaches broad sky with its sharp peak

and a black cloud surrounds it.

The cloud never passes away

nor does clear ether ever shine

above that peak

even in summer, even at harvest.

No mortal person can climb it or stand at the top,

even if he'd twenty hands and feet,

the rock is so smooth, as if polished.

In the middle of the cliff is a cave—all shadows—

faced to the West—towards Erebos—

towards which even you, oh Illustrious Odysseus,

shall one day turn your swift ship.

No man, be he ever-so mighty,

can shoot an arrow

from his hollow vessel

to reach in to that sunken cave.

In it Scylla lives

emitting sharp cracking cries,

like the voices of whelping pups,

though she herself is a wicked beast

and no one takes pleasure in the sight of her, even a god.

She has twelve legs, all oddly disoriented,

six long gangly necks, on each an awful head,

in each three rows of teeth, dense and closely packed,

full of black death.

Up to her middle she's plunged in her cave,

but she holds her heads out beyond its hollows

and goes fishing—searching

around the crags for dolphins and sea-dogs

and whatever other beasts she may happen to seize there

among the myriads

deep-moaning Amphitrite has in her care.

No sailors yet can boast that they've escaped her

safe in their ship

for she'd hold one man in each head

having snatched him from the black-prowed ship.

You will see that the other peak

is closer to the ground, Odysseus.

They're near each other.

You might shoot an arrow

across the gap between them.

On it is a great fig tree,

luxuriant in foliage

beneath which Charybdis

sucks down black water.

And three times daily she disgorges it,

three times, ferociously, she swallows it down.

You do not want to be there when she swallows,

for there's no one who can pull you from its range

not even Poseidon.

But cleaving to Scylla's cliff, quickly drive on past—

better to mourn in your ship six companions

than to mourn for all."

So she spoke, and I answered:

"But tell me this, truly, whether it is possible

for me to flee Charybdis

and to fight off that other one

when she would harm the companions?"

So I spoke, and the goddess responded at once:

"Extravagant man: that even now you consider

deeds of war and improbable labors.

Will you not even retreat before immortal gods?

That thing is not mortal, but a deathless wickedness—

feral, exorbitant, to be treated with exigent dread.

There is no defense against her.

The bravest thing to do is to flee from her.

I fear that if you stop by the rock

to prepare yourself to battle her,

she'll attack with her heads again

and seize as many as before.

Row away as fast as you can

and call upon Krataiis her mother

who bore her but to be a torment to mortals.

She'll stop Scylla from thrusting once more.

You will come now to the isle, Thrinakía.

There, in great numbers, graze

the cattle of Helios-Hyperion and his plump sheep—

seven herds of cows and as many

handsome sheep flocks, fifty beasts in each.

No young are ever born to them

and they never die.

Goddesses take care of them—

Phaethusa and Lampetie

nymphs with handsome tresses—

whom radiant Neaira bore to Helios Hyperion.

When their honored mother had finished their fostering,

she sent them to dwell far away on the isle, Thrinakía

to guard the sheep and cattle of their father;

and if you refrain from harming them

and keep your mind on the business of your home-coming,

you will reach Ithaca yet,

suffering nevertheless further evils.

But if you harm them, I declare this destiny:

destruction of vessel and men,

and though you yourself may elude this,

you'll still reach home

late and in sorry condition,

having lost all companions."

So she spoke; and at that moment

gold-throned Dawn came on

and the radiant goddess left the ship,

went back up to her island

while I went back to the ship

to urge my men to embark and loose the stern cables

and they climbed on board at once

and took their seats at their benches.

Sitting in fit arrangement

they struck the gray salt with their oars

and Circe, awesome goddess, who uses human speech,

goddess with handsome tresses,

sent a wind to swell our sail from behind the black-prowed ship

—a good companion—

and once we'd fastened the cordage throughout the vessel

we sat down

and wind and the steersman held our course.

Then I spoke with the men, though with grieving heart.

"Oh friends, I ought not be the only one

who knows what Circe told me,

so I'll tell it all, that knowing it we may die

or else escape, eluding death and destiny.

First she instructed we evade

the voices of the magic Sirens

and their flowering meadow.

Only I, she advised, should listen to those voices,

but you must bind me with implacable cables

so that I stick where I'm planted

upright at the step of the mast,

and you must tie the rope-ends to the mast itself;

and if I beseech you or command that you set me loose,

you must bind me ever-the-tighter with more cable."

Thus going over each thing,

I made them known to the men,

while the well-built vessel speedily came up

to the island of those two Sirens

for a propitious wind conducted.

But then the wind stopped and there was a windless calm,

and a god caused the waves to slumber,

but the men stood up and took down the sails

and stashed them in the hollow ship,

and, sitting again, made the water white

plying the polished oar-blades.

And I cut with bronze sword

a great round chunk of bees wax

and kneaded it with my hands

and soon the wax got hot

under the force of the rays of Lord Helios Hyperion

and I stuffed it into the ears of all the companions

and they bound me hand and foot

upright at the step of the mast

and tied the ends of the rope to the mast itself

and taking their seats, they beat the gray salt with their oars.

But when we reached a point as far off shore

as a shouting voice might carry,

still propelling swiftly on our course,

the Sirens started their pellucid song:

"Come hither, overwhelming Odysseus,

great pride of the Achaians,

stop your vessel and hear our voices,

for there is not anyone yet

who has passed in his black ship

but that he listened to th' melifluous sounds from our mouths,

and once he has thrilled to their pleasures

he goes on living a more knowing life,

for we know all that happened at Troy,

how Argives and Trojans suffered through the will of the gods,

and we know all that occurs on earth

with its many cows."

So saying, they sent out their beautiful voices

and because my heart wished to hear them,

I commanded my men to release me,

nodding and working my brows,

but they stuck to their oars and rowed on,

Perimedes and Eurylochos standing up

and binding me ever-the-tighter with more cables,

and when they'd rowed on past

so that Siren voice and song had got beyond earshot,

my companions pulled out the wax I'd stuffed in their ears

and freed me from my chains.

Now, no sooner had we left the Sirens' island

than I saw smoke and a giant billow and heard a great noise,

and the oars flew out of the hands of the men in terror,

and everything smashed together in a torrent,

and the ship stopped where it was

for the men were no longer plying the oar-blades.

I went throughout the ship

and sought to encourage my companions

and with gentle speech spoke to each one, standing before him:

"Oh friend, since we have been in no way unversed in misfortune

before now, surely the evil upon us

is no worse than when Cyclops penned us in his cave

by brute strength alone,

but through my valor and cunning tactics we escaped,

so I think this too one day will be but a memory.

But come: let all obey what I tell you

and keep on beating the deep broken salt with your oars

that Zeus might grant us escape and we flee destruction.

And to you, Oh Steersman, I command this:

since you control the steering blade,

get the ship away from that smoke and billow

and hang close to the cliff

lest you forget our course

and tumble us into fresh misery."

So I spoke, and they were quickly persuaded.

But I did not discourse on Scylla—trouble for which there's no cure—

lest the men stop rowing in terror

and clump together in a huddle down in the hold.

But then I myself grew forgetful

of a difficult thing that Circe had bid me remember

when she advised me not to prepare myself for battle,

but I donned the shining armor

and took in hand my two long spears

and climbed to the prow of the ship

to wait for stony Scylla,

—she who was to work ruin upon my companions—

to first appear.

However, I couldn't discern her,

and my eyes grew weary as I cast my glance all about

in the general direction of that misty rock..

Nevertheless, soon we were sailing

through the narrows, groaning.

On one side, Scylla, on the other, numinous Charybdis

terribly sucking salt water up from the sea,

and then when she disgorged it,

she bubbled and steamed like a cauldron

over some mighty fire, but all a-tumble,

and from high overhead the foam

would fall on the tops of both cliffs.

And whenever she sucked down the salt sea water,

everything within her appeared in tumult

and the rock echoed ferociously all about

while below, the earth looked black with sand

and livid terror gripped the men

and terrified, we saw our destruction.

Meanwhile Scylla grabbed six companions right out of the ship

and they were the strongest of arm and most vital there were,

and as I glanced towards the ship to look for my men

I gleaned feet and hands sailing above me

calling me by name for the last time with heart-rending cries.

Just as a fisherman, standing on a jutting rock

throwing his stick with bait meat attached—

a fishing stick made from the bone of a wild ox—

as a trick to catch small fish

casts into the sea,

and when he catches a fish

he tosses it convulsing into the door of the hold,

so, convulsing, the men were drawn up the rock,

and once in her door she devoured them

as they uttered sharp piercing cries,

stretching their hands to me in unendurable struggle.

It was the most piteous of all the things

I witnessed with my eyes

while I toiled traversing the paths of the salty ocean.

As soon as we'd fled the cliffs of Scylla and dread Charybdis,

we arrived at a quiet island belonging to a god.

Handsome cattle with broad brows were there

and the many sheep flocks of Helios Hyperion.

And while still in the ship on the ocean,

I heard the bellowing of cows

being driven back to the barn

and the bleating of sheep,

and a saying of the blind prophet Teiresias, the Theban

came to mind,

and how Circe of AIAIA strenuously charged me

to avoid the island of Helios

though it seem delightful to mortals,

and indeed I spoke to my men with troubled heart:

"Listen to my words, Oh companions, I know you have suffered—

but I must tell you the advice of the Prophet, Teiresias

and of Circe of AIAIA,

who particularly charged me to avoid the island of Helios

though it seem delightful to mortals.

For at this place they say there exists

our most unendurable danger,

so drive the black ship away from this island."

I spoke, but their spirit already was broken.

Eurylochos answered at once with strident speech.

"Unbearably resilient are you, Odysseus;

your strength is excessive,

your limbs never weary.

Everything in you is fashioned of iron.

But you would not allow your companions

worn out with weariness and requiring slumber

to step on the earth, here on this sea-girt island

where we might cook for ourselves a tasty supper

and you even bid us to wander through the night

straying away from the island

over the misty sea.

Difficult winds that wreck ships are born from the night,

so how might we flee destruction,

if a sudden blast arises

either Notus the South wind or Zephyr, or the blustering North—

winds that can dash ships to pieces—and often do—

in spite of the ruling gods?

Let us rather be persuaded by black night

and prepare our supper, remaining by the ship,

and after dawn we'll board it

and go back out onto the sea."

So spoke Eurylochos,

and the other companions nodded their assent,

and I knew right then that some daemon

was plotting evil against us,

and I spoke to Eurylochos, addressing him with winged words:

"Eurylochos, you have the advantage of me because I'm alone.

Very well. But let you all swear an oath

that must be all the stronger for that reason

that if we find a herd of cattle or some great flock of sheep

no one whatsoever, out of wicked folly,

will slay a single beast

but rest content to eat such provisions

as immortal Circe has provided."

So I spoke, and they swore as I commanded.

But once they had accomplished the ceremony

of swearing the oath,

we set the well-built ship into the hollow harbor

with a spring of sweet water close by,

and the companions disembarked from the ship,

and thereupon went about preparing their supper,

and quite expertly.

But when they put away

their desire for food and drink,

they wept as they remembered their dear companions,

whom Scylla ate, plucking them out of the ship,

and sweet sleep overcame them

while they were weeping.

When the third watch of the night came on,

and the stars had proceeded this far,

Zeus who gathers the clouds aroused a furious wind

by means of an extravagant storm cloud

and the earth and the sea together were hidden by it,

and when early dawn with rosy fingers appeared,

we dragged the ship and bound her into a hollow cave,

where nymphs gather and dance.

Then I gathered an assembly of the men and addressed them:

"Oh friends, since there is food and drink in the ship

let us leave the cattle alone

lest we suffer for molesting them,

for these are the cows and plump sheep of the sun god Helios

who oversees all and hears all."

Thus I spoke, and their proud spirit was persuaded.

But the South Wind blew for a month,

and no other wind rose

except the South and the East.

As long as there was grain and red wine

they stayed away from the cattle

being anxious for their lives,

but when all the food in the ship had been consumed,

they were forced by necessity to go wandering

hunting wild game—fish and fowl—

whatever they could lay their hands on

or fishing with crooked hooks, for hunger galled them.

Then I went up island alone to pray to the gods

that perhaps one of them might manifest

a way to depart.

But while I was washing my hands

in a place out of the way of the winds,

and was praying to all the gods who hold Olympus,

they caused sweet sleep to fall upon my eyelids.

Just then did Eurylochos

deliver wicked counsel to my men.

"Listen, to my words, Oh companions

as you suffer this sorry plight.

Every manner of death is hateful to wretched mortals,

but to die in hunger and thus to meet one's fate

is most wretched of all.

Therefore, let us separate the best of the cows of Helios

and sacrifice to th' immortals who own the big sky

and if we ever get back to Ithaca our homeland,

we'll build a sumptuous temple

to Helios Hyperion

and put in it holy statues, many and handsome;

but if he harbors anger

because of his straight-horned cattle

and wishes to wreck our ship

and the other gods concur,

still I would rather be abolished

while gulping down a wave in a single gulp

than be subject to slow starvation

on this desolate island."

So spoke Eurylochos, and the other companions nodded assent.

And they separated the best of the cows of Helios

from among those near at hand,

for not far off from the dark-prowed ship were grazing

sleek, handsome cows with wide foreheads,

and the men circled about them and prayed to the gods,

plucking some foliage from an oak tree, lofty and swelling with sap,

for they had no white barley on board the well-benched ship.

And when they had prayed and cut their throats and flayed them,

and sliced the thigh pieces and covered them with fat, double-folded,

placing bloody meat on top of that

so as to cover the sacrificial joints.

They had no wine to pour on the sizzling sacrifice,

but they made libations with water

over the roasting entrails.

But when the thighs were consumed

and they'd partaken of the innerds,

they sliced the remains and pierced them with skewers.

It was then that sweet sleep withdrew from my eyelids

and I went walking by the strand of the sea, back to the swift ship;

but when drawing near to the ship-that-is-easily-handled,

the sweet odor of the fat wafted about me.

I groaned and howled to th' immortal gods.

"Oh Father Zeus and the other blessed gods who are everlasting,

for certain it was to bring about my ruin

that you lulled me to pitiless sleep

while my men, remaining awake,

were contriving horrendous action."

And a messenger came to Helios Hyperion—

Lampetie, with the long tapering robe—

to the effect that we'd slaughtered his cattle

and he spoke among th' immortals with rage in his heart."

"Father Zeus and the other blessed gods who are everlasting,

make the companions of Odysseus, son of Laertes, pay—

for they in their insolence have slaughtered my cattle

in whom I delighted while I coursed towards the starry heavens

and when I turned back down from them towards the earth.

Dammit—if they don't pay fit requital,

I'll go down to Hades and only shine for the dead."

Zeus who gathers the clouds responded to him:

"Helios, shine among mortals and immortals,

shine upon the arable places of the grain-giving earth.

I'll strike forthwith the swift ship of these men

and shatter it to pieces

with my blazing thunderbolt

in the middle of the wine-dark ocean."

I heard these things from Calypso, with the beautiful hair.

She said that she herself had heard them from Hermes.

But when I came down to the ship and the sea,

I went to the men, one after the other, and reproached them,

but we were unable to cook up a remedy—the cows were already dead.

The gods at once showed omens:

Flayed hides crept on the ground;

both raw and roasted meat bellowed on the skewers;

and there were sounds like cows out of nowhere.

For six days the companions dined

on the best of the cattle of Helios,

but when Zeus brought the seventh day,

the wind quelled its tempest.

We boarded the ship and set out on the wide ocean

as soon as we'd put up mast and white sail.

But when we were well off the island

no land appeared—only sea and sky—

and the Son of Kronos cast a dark cloud

over the hollow ship

and the sea grew black beneath it.

We sailed for no great length of time,

for the shrieking West Wind

soon blew up a gale

and snapped both the forestays of the mast

and the mast fell backwards

and the tackle was tossed in the hold.

On the stern of the ship

the mast struck the head of the steersman and smashed his skull

and he dropped like a diver from the deck

and his noble spirit departed from his bones.

In a single blast Zeus thundered

and empaled the ship with a bolt

and the whole vessel trembled

and filled with smoke

and the men were tossed into the water.

Like sea-crows they bobbed on the wave

about the black ship

and the god took away their home-coming,

but I kept going back and forth through the vessel

till sea-surge ripped ship-sides from the keel

though the wave continued to carry her stripped down bare

but at last tore the mast off at the keel,

its ox-skin back-stay flung over it,

and I bound the two together, keel and mast

and sitting on these was ferried by the violent wind.

Then the West Wind stopped its tempest

and the South Wind came in its place,

bringing my spirit a grievous new apprehension—

that I'd have to trace the path to Charybdis once again.

I was carried along all night

and when Helios rose

indeed I was near the peak

of Scylla and dread Charybdis

and Charybdis sucked down the salt water

but I sprang up to the fig tree high above it

and clung like a bat.

It was impossible to remain secure there

or plant my feet firmly or climb it

for its roots were far away

and its branches out of reach

though long and gigantic, over-shadowing Charybdis.

Yet I clung without let

waiting for her to disgorge

the mast and keel once again.

To the satisfaction of my ardent desire

eventually they emerged—

just at that hour

when a man gets up to take his supper

from an assembly convened to decide

the many quarrels for which young men seek a judgment,

just at that time,

the timbers showed themselves from out of Charybdis.

I released my hands and feet

and plunged from above

into the middle of the waters

just beyond the planks

and taking my seat upon them

paddled away with my hands.

And as for Scylla—the Father of men and gods

allowed that she not catch sight of me,

for if she had I'd surely

have failed to escape utter destruction.

For nine days I was carried there.

On the tenth night the gods conveyed me

to the Isle of Ogygia.

There dwells Calypso, with the beautiful hair,

awesome goddess, who talks like a mortal,

and she loved me and took care of me.

But why should I rehearse these things again?—

for it is but a day or so since I told this story

in your house to you and your noble wife.

It would be a distasteful thing for me to repeat

a plain-told tale.

-------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
20-28 July 2006

Book X

while the image above came to be, lines from book iii of the poem began to occur as a face of poseidon transiently emerged from the infoldings and rotations of the by then almost insubstantial dragonfly photographed with an intergalactic topaz transpoder (in a convex silvered mirror). a couple of inversions later it began to look like it does now and i began to see and hear all the winds save the one that takes you home trapped in the ill-fated gift of aiolus to the hapless wanderer of many minds. stein saw and heard this

::

You seem to have produced in this globe, the skrying stone itself. To
SEE it is to see IN it, to see in it is to elicit FROM it, images that
are NOT it, yet are OF it.

Didn't Z write a book called Prepositions?

Now, oblique spheroid that it is, still it functions as a crystal globe, introjecting its own environs, which, eye reports, are crystalline as well; so that objects, circumambient, recur, even where they aren't, as objects in the Stone. The Stone invents (inverts) the conditions that discover it. Thus the very Beelzebubish fellow who indwells the lower portion of the central band of the Stone, must verily EXIST outside itself, there among the verities of colored facets that surely, though external to Our Stone, or Stone perhaps themselves, introject from otherwhere. Thus I, who find as well as the Beelzebubishkeitlich fellow, fond pyramidal magus who often visits these panels, in no way suspect myself of skrying mere reflections from an outside that is my fascinated inside: rather pretend this maxim: that the inside is already outside, and ponder further: Outside of WHAT exactly? Exactly. Outside of what exactly?

---------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
2 June 2006

----------------------------

X 1-75 Aiolus

We came to Aiolian Island

whereon dwelt Aiolus, Hippotas' son, dear to the gods immortal—

to a city on a floating island.

An unbroken wall of bronze runs around it;

a smooth rock cliff runs up to it.

Aiolus had twelve offspring there in his halls,

six daughters, six sons, in the vigor of youth.

And he gave his daughters as bedmates to his sons.

They feast perpetually with their father and trusty mother,

and before them lies an inexhaustible store.

By day the palace reverberates out to the courtyard

with an atmosphere of feasting;

by night they lie down in peace

beside immaculate wives in well-crafted bedsteads

under woolen carpets.

So we came to that city and its handsome palace.

For a month Aiolus welcomed me and questioned me concerning

Ilion and the ships of the Argives and th' Achaians' return,

and I recounted the whole tale just as it happened;

but when, in time, I asked that he send us onward,

he denied us nothing, but furnished our leave-taking.

In particular he gave me a wallet

made from the flayed skin of an ox, nine-years old,

and in it he trapped the very pathways of the blustering winds,

for the Son of Kronos has made this man Winds' Steward,

to stir or to stop whichever wind he wishes at his whim

and he bound the wallet into our hollow ship

with a rope of shining silver,

so that not a whisp might wheeze out,

but to further our voyage he sent out

a breath of Zephyrus, the West Wind—

to convoy both ships and ourselves.

But safe convoy was not to be brought to fruition

for we were ruined on account of our folly.



For nine days we sailed—day and night, no difference.

On the tenth our native land appeared

and we drew so near we were able to distinguish

the beacon-tenders standing at their lookout.

But then sweet sleep overcame me because I was weary.

I had plied the sail myself without relief;

I would not give the task to my companions,

so that the more swiftly we might arrive at our native country.

But while I slept these companions began to speak to each other.

They said that I was taking gold and silver home in the wallet,

which I had as a gift from Aiolus, Hippotades, the magnanimous.

And thus would one speak with a side-long glance at his neighbor:

"Out on it! Look how this fellow is honored and befriended by all men

at whatever land or city he happens to come to.

Many and gorgeous treasures he has horded, looted from Troy,

while we, who have accomplished the same sojourn as he,

come home empty handed.

And now this Aiolus gives him these things, freely, out of love.

So come, let us see, and quickly, just what 'these things' may be,

whether there is some silver and some gold

stashed in that wallet."

So they spoke, and a wicked intent prevailed among my companions.

They opened the wallet

and all the winds erupted

and a wild gale seized them

and bore them wailing away from their native country

back out to the open ocean.

But as for me, as I wakened,

I turned it over in my blameless mind

whether to throw myself from the ship and perish in the sea

or endure it all in silence and remain among the living.

I endured and remained

and hiding my head lay back down in the ship.


The ships were carried by the blast of that evil wind

back to Aiolian Island and companions groaned.

Once we were there, we went ashore and drew water,

and companions took a meal by the swift ships.

But when they'd taken food and drink

I took a herald and one companion

and went to the shining palace of Aiolus

—found him dining with wife and children

—sat down by the threshold.

They were astonished and put questions to me:

"Why have you come back here, Odysseus?

What evil god has assailed you?

We sent you forth in kindness

so that you might go home to your native country

and whatever else there that is dear to you."

So they spoke, and I spoke up among them with sorrowing heart:

"Evil companions rendered me reckless;

accursed sleep overcame me.

But will you repair me, my friends, as is in your power?"

So I addressed them with gentle words,

but they were not forthcoming.

At last the father responded.

"Oh most contemptible of all living things, be gone from my island!

It is not fitting to rescue or commend on his way

that man who's condemned by the gods."

So saying, he sent me away from the palace, heavily groaning,

and we sailed on

and the spirit of the men grew exhausted from painful rowing

because, on account of our folly, there was no wind now…

----------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
25-30 June 2006




Book X (The Mind of the Dark Lord’s Lady)

In America…the eagle is passionately felt, not as a raptor, and
certainly not as the consummate instrument of a falconry practiced
nowhere any longer but the Steppes of Central Asia, according to an
estimable item I surfed the other evening on Animal Discovery. Let the
Eagle Soar, sang Attorney General Ashcroft. But no, Empires don’t soar.

The whole point of an empire is that it has already gotten where it is
going: its expansion is by right, not Energetic Exercise of Talent.

America is no longer a salutary image of energy; that is because
know-how—the yankee derogation of savoire-faire—has become frayed and
multiplied in its projection: focus is impossible; intent leaks from the
can. No sooner is Will expounded, but the circumstance of chronic
feed-back deletion, for instance, causes the canister of explosives to
blowup or blowback in terrified grim enthusiuasm.

But is a claw a hand? Are digits talons? And how can The Dark Lord's
Consort, if that is what "Lady" denotes, be other than an inverse of the
Lord Him-Her Self—the completed figure an explosion or expulsion of
radiance, implosion driving light, adjudicated at a point of
disappearance and emergence which, because Time is Not, exceed distinction?

The disturbance of the Eagle is such, that its energy has intruded upon
its own introjection, the convex mirror which the eagle embraces, cigar
store Injun jewel-eyed wisdom raging. There are two of them outside the
tobacco store in Rhinebeck to this day.

--------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
4 July 2006

X (Circe)



….We arrived at the isle, AIAIA.

Circe lived there—awesome goddess with the beautiful hair

who used human speech, not the speech of the gods;

Aietes' full-blooded sister of malicious mind—

both being an offspring of Helios, who brings light to mortals,

and Perse, their mother; she—Okeanos' child.

We came to the beach in silence, to safe harbor,

some god guiding—disembarked and lay there two days, two nights

devouring our hearts for weariness and sorrow.

But when on the third day Dawn came, Dawn with the beautiful hair,

taking my spear and sharp sword,

I went up in a sprint from the ship to a place of wide lookout,

that I might see some evidence of mortals and hear their voices.

So, going up to a rocky point of some scope, I took my stand

and smoke appeared from the earth,

rising from what were the halls of Circe

through thick woods and copses.

I ruminated in heart and mind

over whether to reconnoiter

since I saw that flaming smoke.

Taking thought, it seemed best

first to go to the ships

and to give my companions a meal

and then to send them out to reconnoiter;

but as I approached the ship,

some god was touched by my solitary plight

and put a great high-horned stag right in my path.

He was going down to drink at the river

out from his woodland grazing ground,

for the strength of the sun had gotten to him.

As he came out of the woods,

I struck him mid-back on the spine,

and the bronze spear pierced straight through him,

and down he fell in the dust with a groan,

and his spirit flew away from him.

Then stepping on his hulk,

I drew the bronze spear from the wound

and let him lie on the ground

while I twisted some twigs and withies into a cable,

artfully plaiting from both ends, crossing, recrossing,

and bound the feet of the fearsome animal,

and slung him over my neck

and went back to the black ship

supporting myself with my spear,

it being impossible to carry it on one shoulder with my hand.

for it indeed was a great beast.

And I threw him down in front of the ship

and encouraged companions with honeyed speech,

standing before each man:



"Oh friends, I do not think, in spite of our sorrows,

we'll go down to the House of Hades

before our day of fate comes upon us.

But as long as there is food and drink in the ship

let us remember our supper,

so that we not consume ourselves with hunger."



Thus, I spoke, and they were quickly persuaded by my speaking.

They came out from shame-faced hiding behind their cloaks,

by the beach of the desert sea,

and marveled at the stag,

for it indeed was a great beast.

But when they were sated with gazing,

they cleansed their hands and went about

creating a glorious dinner.

All day until sundown we sat feasting

on inexhaustible meat and sweet wine.

When Helios descended and dusk came on,

we lay down on the shore of the ocean;

and when early dawn with rose-colored fingers appeared,

I called my men to assembly and spoke to all.



"Oh friends, I do not know

in what quarter lies the nether gloom,

nor where the dawn is,

or whither Helios, bringer of light to mortals,

goes beneath the earth or where he rises;

but let us inquire at once,

whether there is some clever device

that yet remains for us. I do not think there is.

For I climbed to a rocky lookout point and saw that this island,

around which the boundless sea is set like a crown,

lies but a little above it.

In the middle I saw some smoke through the woods and the copses."



So I spoke, and their spirit broke within them,

and they brought to mind the acts of Antiphates, the Laestrygonian,

and the violence of man-eating Cyclops,

and they uttered a shrill clear cry and issued big tears,

but the upshot of such lamentation was as nil.

I split the well-armored companions into two bands

and assigned a leader to each;

I myself took one of them,

and commended the other to godlike Eurylochos.

Without delay we shook lots in a bronze helmet,

and the lot of Eurylochos leapt out.

He set out together with twenty-two companions, all of them groaning,

and left the rest of us behind, all groaning too.

In an open glen they found the palace of Circe

built of polished stones,

with wolves and mountain lions all about the place,

whom Circe had put under a spell,

for she'd fed them wicked medicine.

They did not rush the men but just came up to them

fawning and prancing about them and wagging long tails,

like dogs that fawn on their master

returning from a feast,

knowing he always brings home some morsel to please them.

So these sharp-clawed wolves and savage lions fawned.

And the men were afraid, when they saw the beasts.

Now they stood before the gates of the goddess, with the beautiful hair,

and heard her singing within in a beautiful voice,

going to and fro

before some great ambrosial web on a loom,

such as is the craftwork of goddesses:

delicate, graceful, gleaming.

Polites, leader of men,

dearest to me of the companions and most trusted,

initiated speech:



"Oh friends, there's someone going to and fro

before a loom in the palace, singing beautifully

so that the whole place resounds,

either a woman or a goddess;

but let us call out to her now!"



So he spoke, and they cried out loud to her, calling,

and she came out and opened the shining portals

and welcomed them in,

and all followed after in their folly.

Eurylochos, however, stayed back, suspecting a ruse.

She led them in and set them down on chairs and thrones

and fed them a potion of cheese and yellow honey

and barley and Pramnian wine,

but she stirred into the provender deleterious medicine

so that they completely forgot their native country.

But when she'd administered this and they'd downed the potion,

she struck them with her wand and turned them into pigs

and penned them in pig sties.

Now they had pigs' heads and bristles and bodies and voices,

though their minds were implacable and remained just as before.

And Circe flung them the fruit of the ilex

and the fruit of the cornel tree,

such as abject pigs customarily feed on.

Eurylochos went back to the swift black ships

with news of the companions and their harsh allotment,

but he was not able to say a thing, try as he might,

for his heart was stricken with great anguish,

eyes full of tears, spirit set for grieving.

But when all of us marveled and questioned him,

he recounted at last the doom of the other companions:



"We went as you commanded, Oh Odysseus,

through the bush, and we found, in an open glen,

the fair palace of polished stones,

and there, going to and fro before a great loom

was someone singing clearly, either goddess or woman,

and we shouted out to her. She came at once

and opened the shining portals

and bid us in, and everyone followed together in their folly.

But suspecting a ruse, I remained behind.

Then they were made to vanish in one mass,

nor did any of them appear again,

though for a long time I sat there watching."



So he spoke, and I flung my sword, studded with silver nails,

across my shoulders, and my great bronze bow,

and commanded him to lead me at once by the same path.

But he took my hands and beseeched me, grasping my knees

with grievous wailing and winged, urgent words:



"Do not command me back there against my will,

Oh person, fostered by Zeus,

for I know that you yourself will ever return

nor will you lead back the companions.

But let us flee as fast as we can with those that remain;

then perhaps we might yet shrink back from the evil day."



So he spoke, but I responded, saying:



"Eurylochos, stay then in this place,

eating and drinking beside the black ship,

but I must go, for a strong necessity is on me."



So saying, I went up from the ship and the sea,

but when I was about to go up through the holy glen of Circe

and come to her great palace of many pharmacological wonders,

there, then, Hermes with the golden wand accosted me

as I approached the palace

in the likeness of a young man

at that most gracious moment of youth

when the first growth of beard is on the lip.

He took my hand and said:



"Where now again, Oh man of distracted destiny,

do you wander alone through the hills,

being ignorant of the place?

Your companions have come here to the palace of Circe

and are penned in its recesses like swine in tight-bound sties.

And have you come to unbind them?

I tell you you won't return

but you too'll be stuck here even as the others.

But come: I will release you and save you from these evils.

When you go to the palace of Circe,

you'll be fortified with noble medicine,

strong enough to ward off the evil day,

and be instructed in all the cunning arts of Circe.

She will fashion a potion, throw medicine into your food,

but not have the power to enthrall you,

for the noble medicine that I give you will not allow it—

I'll instruct in each particular pertaining to its use..

When Circe strikes you with her great wand,

taking your sharp sword from your thigh, you must rush her,

as if raging to slay her.

She'll be gripped by fear and bid you to bed down with her.

You must not thereafter refuse the bed of the goddess,

so that she might loose your companions and be hospitable to you.

However: command her to swear a great oath by the blessed gods

that she'll contrive no fresh mischief against you

lest when she has you naked

she disfigure and unman you."



Having spoken thus he issued the medicine, drawing it from the earth

and instructed me in its nature.

It was black at the root but its flower was milk-like

and the gods call it Moly—difficult for mortals to extract

but gods are capable of anything.

Hermes went back to blessed Olympus, passing through the wooded island,

and I to the palace of Circe

pondering many disturbing thoughts in my breast.

I stood at the gates of the goddess with the beautiful hair

—stood and called out, and the goddess heard my voice,

and at once she opened the shining gates

and welcomed me, but I followed with aching heart.

She led me in and sat me down on a throne,

studded with silver nails, beautifully appointed,

beneath it a footstool.

She prepared me a decoction in a golden cup

so that I might drink

and in it she put the medicine

plotting wickedness in her heart.

And when she had given it to me and I had downed it

but was not cast under the spell,

she struck me with her wand

and uttered a word and addressed me:



"Now away to the sty with you!

Lie down with the other companions…''



Thus she spoke, and I drew my sword from beside my thigh

and rushed at Circe as if I were raging to slay her.

She let out a cry and dropped down and grabbed my knees

and wailing addressed me with urgent winged words:



"Who are you among men? and where is your city? who your begetors?

Amazement has me that drinking my decoction,

you are not under its spell,

for no other man has ever been subjected to it

and not been transmuted

as soon as it passed the barrier of his teeth.

The mind in your breast indeed is impermeable to enchantment.

You must be Odysseus, man of innumerable devices,

whom the Slayer of Argus with the golden wand

has always said would come to me

on his way back from Troy with his swift black ship.

But come, put your sword back in its scabbard,

and lets go to our bed

so that bedding down in love

we might come to trust one another."



Thus she spoke, and I responded:



"Oh Circe, how can you ask tenderness of me

when you have just turned my men into swine

in your halls and, keeping me here,

command me with guile in your mind

to go to your chamber and climb into your bed

so that when you have me naked

you might disfigure and unman me?

I do not wish to got to bed with you

unless, Oh goddess, you agree to swear a great oath

that you'll not contrive any further mischief against me."



Thus I spoke, and she swore at once, just as I demanded.

And when she'd completed the oath

I went to her bed,

and he handmaids were busy in the halls.

There were four of them, born from springs and sacred groves

and holy rivers that run to the ocean,

and one of them covered the couches with gorgeous purple rugs

and spread linen beneath them

and another put silver tables in front of the couches

setting gold wicker-work baskets down upon them

and a third selected a sweet, honey-headed wine in a silver bowl

and poured it out in golden cups

while the fourth brought water and lit a great fire

beneath a giant tripod and the water grew hot.

And when it was boiling in the gleaming bronze cauldron,

she set me into a bath and washed me with water tempered to my liking

tumbling it over my head and over my shoulders

until she'd extracted all spirit-depleting fatigue out of my limbs.

And when she had washed me and chrismed me richly with oil

she decked me out in a beautiful cloak and tunic

and set me down on a couch fantastically crafted,

studded with silver nails, with a footstool beneath it.

And a domestic brought water for cleansing my hands

in a golden pitcher and poured it over a silver basin

and she drew up a polished table,

and a solemn food-serving official

brought in bread and much meat (was it a kind of bait?)

graciously providing it all.

And she told me to eat

but I was not inclined to do it.

Other thoughts possessed me

and my heart intuited evil.

Now Circe, as she noticed that I sat there without reaching for food

but that powerful grief still possessed me,

came up beside me and spoke winged words:



"Why, Odysseus, do you sit there like a person incapable of speech

not taking food or drink but eating your heart?

Perhaps you anticipate further villainy!

But you've nothing to fear, for I sore a great oath."



So she spoke, and I responded:



"What man could take food and drink

before his companions are freed

and he's seen them with his own eyes?

If you wish me to drink and eat, release my companions."



Circe went out through the hall, taking her wand in her hand,

opened the door to the sty

and drove out my companions

in the guise of nine-year-old pigs,

so that they stood before her;

and going about among them

she applied some further medicine to each one

and the bristles fell away from their limbs

that the spell had made to grow there

and they became men again

but younger and taller and more comely to look upon

and they knew me and each clung to my hands.

A yearning to weep came over them all

and the palace resounded

so that even the goddess herself felt pity

and she drew near me and said:



"Son of Laertes, sprung from Zeus, Odysseus,

man of many machinations,

go now to the swift ship by the strand of the sea

and draw it onto land

and stash the ship's tackle and other goods in caves.

Then you yourself come back here at once and bring your worthy companions."



So she spoke, and my heart, that was wont to resist, nevertheless consented.

I went to the swift ship by the strand of the sea

and found there my remaining companions

piteously weeping, shedding copious tears,

and just as calves in a herd come back to the barnyard

when they're finished feeding on fodder

and all of them come frisking together in thick bellowing bursts

so that the pens no longer have strength to contain them,

so these men, when they saw me, let pour their tears,

and it seemed to their hearts they'd arrived

at their native country, the rugged city of Ithaca

where they were born and reared.

And still wailing they said to me:



"You have returned, Oh person, fostered by Zeus

and we are overjoyed,

just as if we'd arrived back home in Ithaca,

but will you not recount for us the doom of our other companions?"



So they spoke and I answered with gentle speech:



"Let us first draw the ship onto land

and stash the ship's tackle and other goods in caves.

Then follow me, and you will see the companions

in the magic palace of Circe, drinking and eating,

for the palace has limitless store."



So I spoke, and they were swiftly persuaded by my words.

But Eurylochos would have restrained the companions. He said:



"Oh wretched people, where are you going?

What evil is this that your hearts are set upon?

If you do go down to the hall of Circe,

she will turn you all into pigs and wolves and lions

and force you to guard her palace

just like Cyclops, when our companions went into his lair,

even though this reckless Odysseus went with them.

These men were killed because of that man's folly."



So he spoke, and I pondered whether

to pluck my long sword from beside my stout thigh

and sever his head and conduct it straight to the ground,

despite the fact that through marriage

he was a close kinsman.

But my companions, one after another,

sought to restrain me with gentle speech:



"Oh Zeus-born one, let us leave this person, if you command,

to stay back and guard the ship

while you bring us to the magic palace of Circe."



So speaking, they went up from the ship and the sea.

And as for Eurylochos, by no means

did he stay back with the hollow ship,

but he followed for fear of my excessive rebuke.

Meanwhile, back in the palace,

Circe was bathing the other companions

and anointing them with rich oil,

and throwing fleecy cloaks and tunics about them

and generally treating them with kindliness and care,

and we found them all being well-feasted in the halls.

When the full complement of companions

saw and recognized each other face to face,

they wept and cried aloud and the palace resounded,

and drawing near to me the bright goddess said:



"Cease now this lamentation. Though I myself

know the woes that you have suffered on the fish-laden ocean

and those that hostile men have foisted upon you on dry land—

enough! Come, eat food and drink wine;

bring your spirits back into your breasts,

just as you had when you first left rocky Ithaca, your native country;

for now you're all spiritless and wasted,

always remembering the difficulties of the sea

your hearts never rejoicing in gladness,

since indeed you had suffered greatly."



So she spoke, and our proud hearts were persuaded.

Day after day we feasted on flesh abundant and sweet wine;

but when indeed a year had past,

and the seasons had turned a full cycle,

and months had wasted away and the long days were ended,

then my companions called me out and said:



"Demoniac person: it's time to remember your native land,

if indeed it is fated for you to be saved

and go home to your high-roofed house in your father's country."



So they spoke, and our proud heart was persuaded.

All that day until sundown

we sat feasting on flesh abundant and sweet wine,

but when Helios had descended and darkness came on,

while my men went to rest beneath the shadowy halls,

I myself went to the bed with Circe

and beseeched her clasping her knees,

and the goddess heard my voice as I spoke winged words:



"Oh Circe: fulfill the promise you promised me:

send me home. My spirit is eager to be gone

as is that of my companions,

for they cause my own heart to waste away,

moaning and wailing about me when you're out of earshot."



So I spoke, and the bright goddess at once responded:



"God-born son of Laertes, Odysseus of many devices,

No longer are you to remain here with me, against your will,

but remember your home.

However, you must first traverse another path

and come to the House of Hades and dread Persephone

to trouble the ghost-soul of Teiresias, the Theban,

the blind seer whose spirit remains continuously stable

for Persephone has granted Mind to him, even in death,

that to him alone belongs a sound understanding,

while the rest of the ghost-souls flit about like shadows."



So she spoke, and my spirit at once was broken



I wept, sitting on the bed,

and my heart wished to live no longer

nor to see the light of the sun,

but when I'd had my fill

of wallowing and weeping

I said to her:

"Oh Circe, who will lead us on this path?

for no one yet has gone in a black ship to Hades."

So I spoke, and the radiant goddess responded:

"Zeus-born son of Laertes, oh Odysseus, man of many devices,

do not be concerned

regarding the lack of a pilot for your ship,

but set up your mast and spread the white sail and sit—

Boreas, the North Wind, will take you.

But when you have crossed Okeanos in your vessel,

there—on a jetty o'er-grown with brushwood,

at the sacred grove of Persephoneia

with its tall poplars and willows

that drop their fruit early,

beach your ship by deep-swirling Okeanos

and set off for the grim House of Hades.

At the place where Coccytos and Puriphlegithon flow into Acheron—

the Coccytos being a tributary of the Styx—

there is a rock, and the confluence of two roaring rivers.

At that point stir your comrades and command them

to burn the sheep that lie there,

their throats having been cut by the pitiless bronze,

and make a prayer to the gods—

to Hades, the Noble One, and Dread Persephoneia—

and take your seat and draw your sharp sword from your thigh-sheath,

preventing the impotent heads of the dead

from getting at the blood

until you've consulted Teiresias.
Without delay the prophet will come, leader of men,

and he will tell you your way

and the measures of your path,

and how you might travel over the fish-burdened ocean."

So she spoke, and then gold-throned Dawn came on.

And Circe clothed me with cloak and robe as raiment,

while the nymph herself put on a long white robe,

subtly woven and lovely.

About her waist she threw a golden girdle

and veiled her head.

And I sped through the palace

arousing the companions

with conciliatory verbiage,

addressing each man in turn:

"Sleep no more in sweet slumber but be aroused—

for Lady Circe has spoken to me."

So I spoke, and their proud spirit was persuaded by my words.

Now there was a certain Elepnor, the youngest of the men,

neither particularly courageous in war

nor well-put-together mind-wise.

This fellow had taken himself apart from the companions

in the holy palace of Circe,

seeking a bit of cool air, and had lain down,

for he was heavy with wine.

But when he heard the noise and commotion of the companions

as they were moving about

he got up precipitously

but forgot to descend to us by means of a ladder

and fell from the roof.

He broke a bone in his neck

and his soul went down to Hades.

But as my men were getting themselves together

I spoke among them:

"You think that you are headed, along about now,

back to your dear native land

but Circe has appointed

another journey for us—to the House of Hades

and Dread Persephoneia."

So I spoke, and their spirit was broken within them

and sitting down in the place where they were

they groaned and tore their hair,

but no profit came from such lamenting.

And when we continued on our way

to the swift ship on the shore of the sea

in sorrow, our rich tears flowing.

Circe had gone ahead

and bound a ram and black ewe beside the black ship

for she easily had sped past us,

for who can see a god

that intends that you not see her,

whether she be going hither or thither or yon?

----------------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
3 July - 8 August 2006

from :: Book XXIV

Hermes Kyllenian summoned the ghost souls of the wooers.

He held the beautiful wand of gold in his hands

with which he spell-binds the eyes of men if he wishes

while others, conversely, he rouses from spell-bound slumber.

He used it now to set the souls in motion

and they followed, chattering.

And just as night bats in the depths of a magic cave

flit about chattering, when one of them drops from the rock

where they hang in a ring and cling the one to another,

so these ghost souls went along together, squeaking and chattering.

And Hermes the guileless led them down

the grim, mouldering pathways.

They went passed the flows of Okeanos and the White Rock,

passed the Gates of the Sun and the district of dreams;

--quickly reached the asphodel meadows

where the fantasms of restful ghost souls dwell.

They found the soul of Achilles, son of Peleus,

and Patroklos, and Antilochos the blameless

and Aias—he the most noble in body and form of the Danaans

after blameless Achiles.

The ghost souls thronged about Achilles

and the soul of Agamemnon drew near to them, grieving,

and others gathered about—men who had died

together with Agamemnon in the house of Aegisthus

and found their fate.

And the ghost soul of the son of Peleas spoke first:

"Son of Atreus, we thought that of all the heroes,

you were most dear to Zeus,

because you lorded it over

many strong men at Troy

where we Achaians suffered;

but indeed it seems a violent fate

was meted out too early, also to you—

that fate that none who come into being

ever can avoid.

Oh, would that, enjoying that state of honor

of which you were the master

you had died at Troy and there worked out your destiny.

Then the Achaians would have made your tomb

and great glory accrued to your son in future times;

but now it seems it was destined that you be convicted

by a most lamentable mortality."

And the ghost soul of Agamemnon responded:

"Fortunate Son of Peleus, Achilles like unto the gods,

who died at Troy far from Argos:

and others were cut down around you—

the best of the Achaians and the Trojans—

contending for your corpse—

and you in a whirl of dust

lay so mighty in your mightiness,

all your skill with horses forgotten now.

We fought all day and we'd not have ceased contending

had Zeus not stopped it with a storm.

And once we had carried you out of the fight to the ships,

we lay you onto a bier and purified your fair flesh

with water and gentle resin.

And the Danaans shed many tears and cut their hair.

And your mother came out of the sea

with immortal sea nymphs

when the message reached her

but a magic cry went up on the water

and trembling seized all the Achaians

and they would have rushed down to the ships in terror

had not one man, wise in ancient matters, sought to restrain them.

It was Nestor, whose counsel in the past had often seemed best.

With kindly understanding he addressed them.

'Stop, Oh Argives, Oh Achaian youths—don't run away.

It is Achilles' mother coming out of the sea,

immortal sea-nymphs with her,

to countenance the death of her child.'

So he spoke, and the great hearted Achaians stifled their terror.

The daughters of the Old Man of the Sea now stood around you

with piteous wailing

and decked you out in an ambrosial cloak.

And all the nine muses with sweet antiphonal voices

struck up the threnody.

None of the Argives were tearless then,

so did the muses move them with pellucid voices.

For seventeen nights and days we grieved,

immortal gods and mortal men alike.

On the eighteenth day we gave you to the fire,

and many fat sheep and cows with crumpled horns

in your honor were slaughtered.

You burned in garments of the gods,

doused with sweet honey and unguents.

Many Achaian heroes stirred in their armor

about the fire as it sizzled—

footmen and horse chariot drivers, and a great din ascended,

but when the flame of Hephaistos had quite consumed you,

after dawn, Oh Achilles, we collected your white bones

and laid them in resin and wine that had not been diluted.

Now, your mother had provided a golden amphora [amphiphorea] with double handles.
She said it was a gift of Dionysos, the work of famous Hephaistos.

Your bones now lie inside it, glorious Achilles,

mixed with those of dead Patroklos, son of Menoetius,

but separate from Antilochos,

whom you honored most of all your companions after dead Patroklos.

And over them we built

a great and blameless mound tomb—

we the army of Argive spearsmen—

on a promontory by the broad Hellespont

so that it might be apparent from afar over the sea

to men that are now alive and those that shall come after.

And your mother requested from the gods beautiful prizes

for whomever should prove the best of the Achaians in the funeral games.

No doubt you have taken part in the funeral rituals of many heroes

some king having perished,

and the young men equipped and girded themselves for the contests.

But seeing these preparations would have astonished your heart,

so sumptuous were the prizes

that silver-footed Thetis set down in your honor.

For you were so singularly dear to the gods

that you do not lose your name even in dying

but your renown will remain forever, Oh Achilles.

But what pleasure is there for me, in this:

that I carded the skein of war?
For on my return, Zeus devised for me a grievous ruin

at the hands of Aegisthus and my ruinous sometime bedmate."

So they proclaimed such things to one another,

but the Slayer of Argos, the Conductor, mosied over

leading the souls of the wooers, overwhelmed by Odysseus,

and, amazed, the two Argive heroes moved towards them

as soon as they saw them. The spirit of Agamemnon, son of Atreus,

picked out the dear son of Melaneus, renowned Amphimedon.

Agamemnon had been his guest when staying in Ithaca.

The son of Atreus' ghost soul spoke first.

"Amphimedon, what have you suffered, that this gang of you

has sunk beneath the black earth

and all of you choice men and of like age?

For one would select no others if one were to gather

the best men from some city.

Did Poseidon overwhelm you on board your ship

arousing monstrous waves and grievous winds

or did hostile humans waste you on land

because you were leading their cattle away

or their fair flocks of sheep, and they

fighting to defend

their women and their citadel?

Tell me what I ask, for I proclaim I was your guest,

or do you not remember that I came to your house

with godlike Menelaos, urging Odysseus to follow us to Ilion

in the ships with good banks of oars?
A full month we tarried on the broad sea,

for Odysseus, sacker of citadels

was not to be hastily persuaded."

The spirit of Amphimedon responded:

"Most praise-worthy son of Atreus, Lord of men, Agamemnon,

I remember all these things, Oh Zeus-fostered one, just as you proclaim them,

and I shall tell it all perfectly faithfully.

An evil consummation of death was fashioned for us.

Long had we wooed the wife of Odysseus, who himself had long been away,

and she neither rejected the abhorrent nuptials nor made an end to our wooing,

but rehearsed a black fate and death for us in her mind,

and she also worked up this other ruse:

setting a great loom in the halls, she took to weaving—

a fabric both fine and broad, and she said among us:

'Oh young men, my wooers,

since divine Odysseus is dead, forbear a while,

though you are eager for the match—until I finish my sail.

I would not that my spinning be undone, as if it were blown to the winds,

it being a shroud for Lord Laertes against such time

as a grievous fate of death, stretching him out, should take him down,

and that no local Achaian women despise me

if he who laid up so much, should lie without a sail to wrap his limbs in.'

So she spoke, and the manly spirit within us was persuaded.

By day she wove there at her great loom,

but by night with torches beside her she loosened the strands.

For three years by this ruse she beguiled the Achaians,

but when the fourth year came round, and the seasons turned,

and the months passed, and many days were completed,

one of her women, who knew it all, spoke up,

and we found Penelope unraveling the shining web

so that she was forced to complete it, though she did not wish it.

And just at that time when she showed us the shroud she had woven—

that is, as soon as she'd washed it—

just at that time—an evil daemon lead Odysseus out from somewhere

to the outskirts of Ithaca, there where the swine-herd dwelt…"

----

Charles Stein
June 12- 22, 2006
Barrytown, NY

Book VIII (Hephaistos Ares Aphrodite)

One would have thought some sort of cross-hatching or cross-reference appropriate, but no, the whites line up on the left, the blacks on the right (or reverse the sense, stage right stage left, no matter) separated by a coarse wrist band or watch band, a chain to bind together, what no god would keep apart, except by some ugly law of exchange whereby beautiful (or otherwise) women are sold to ugly (or otherwise) husbands, or clever men who ought to know better attempt to appropriate through exchange of funds what does not by nature or right belong to them. The oldest woe in the world, that beauty itself is flattened by the application of the language of number to the desire to generalize value. A common coin. Not.

Nevertheless, there are registers, beyond all registries. In the ether, Being is held within Mighty Bonds, says Parmenides, and what he meant has eluded authority and anarchy alike.

For several asiderials now, I have failed to remark upon the arcs and sweepings that cross crash the more figured imagery, here enframing the double figure, the Dark Lord, now familiar, with pyramid head above, the pretender to the sponsor-ship of the whole shebang, and the happy hooded one below, sustaining Atlas-wise, the globe of cosmos on his willing shoulders. In the Oracles (remember them?) Atlas functions as a membrane, sustaining the severance of earth from sky, enforcer of the Prime Deviation. And since it is indeed a dyad that is at stake in this cartouche, why not? Atlas it is.

Otherwise, for the sake of "completion" (ha!) I remark the pinched point and its metallic radii at the center of the band or bond that binds the unhappy couple, the cone beneath the Pyramid, the inverted pyramid beneath the cone, as if to say, where Two Remembers, Inversion Zones.
--------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
15 July 2006
--------------

bialy: the band that binds is the final fading vestige of the winged icon of the wily one 'himslef' (cuernavaca, 15 de julio 06)

--------------

Book VIII : Hephaistos Ares Aphrodite

The lyre awakened in prelude to the beautiful singing

about the love of Aphrodite and Ares,

how at first in Hephaistos' house they secretly commingled

and Ares gave Aphrodite many gifts

and dishonored the marriage lair of Lord Hephaistos.

But Helios soon came bearing tales,

for he had recognized them as they lay in love.

Hephaistos, when he heard the heart-breaking story,

went straight to his bronze forge

and forged wicked things in the deeps of his mind.

He set the anvil on the anvil block

and struck off a web-net of many fine chains

that could not be loosened or broken

so the lovers might remain, stuck where they were.

Now when he'd fashioned the trap in his wrath against Ares,

he went to the room where his bed was

and stretched the net around the bedposts

and suspended the chains from the roof beams.
As fine as a spider web they were,

so that not even a god would be able to see them,

so cunningly were they crafted.

But when he had spread

about the bed

the trap entire,

he pretended that he was going

on a to journey to Lemnos, well-built citadel,

of all lands the one most dear to him;

nor was Ares keeping a careless watch.

When he saw Hephaistos was out of the way,

he went to his house,

just barely able to contain himself for love of the fair-crowned Cytherean.

She, however, had just come into the presence of her father,

the mighty son of Kronos,

so Ares went into that house,

and grasped her hands and said to her:

"Come, my love, and let us to bed

for Hephaistos is no longer in the vicinity

but is off to Lemnos,

the land of the gruff-talking Sintians."

Thus he spoke, nor did to bed down with him

seem to Aphrodite like something not to be tasted,

so they two went to couch and did sleep soundly!…

until the cunning web-net of thoughtful Hephaistos closed about them

and they became unable to move their limbs or raise them up.

Eventually their plight was clear—that there was no escape.

At that point Hephaistos drew near

for he'd turned back on arrival at Lemnos,

Helios, keeping watch for him, having given the word,

so he went to his own house, agrieved at heart.

He stood at his own gates and savage rage took hold of him.

He cried a terrible cry and called on all the immortals:

"Father Zeus and the rest of you who exist forever:

do come here—that you might witness deeds both laughable and unseemly;

how Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus,

holds me in contempt because I am lame,

but she loves that Ares, the destroyer,

that he is handsome and intact,

while I was born maimed and halting,

the blame for which belongs not to me

but to my two progenitors—

would that they'd never begotten me.

But see how these two

have climbed into my bed

and lie together in love.

Indeed I am troubled at the sight,

but I expect that they won't wish to lie thus very much longer

however much they're in love—

no, they'll not wish to lie there even for a minute,

but my cunning halter shall hold them

until such time as their father gives me back

the nuptial gifts I put into his hands

for the dog-eyed girl,

because his daughter is beautiful but out of control."

So he spoke and the gods gathered at his house

whose foundation was fashioned of bronze;

and Poseidon, the earth-enfolder, came,

and Hermes, quick-as-death,

and also Lord Apollo, who acts at long range.

The goddesses stayed at home for shame,

each in her own abode,

but the male gods crowded the bedroom doorway

and irrepressible laughter rose among them

when they saw the artifice of thoughtful Hephaistos;

and thus would one of them speak with a wink to his neighbor:

"Evil deeds don't prosper! Slowness catches the quick!

For halting Hephaistos has over taken Ares,

though he be the quickest of the gods that hold Olympus.

The lame one has done it by craft

and Ares owes the adulterer's forfeit!"

They said things like that to each other,

and Lord Apollo, son of Zeus, said to Hermes:

"Hermes, would you still wish, though squeezed by mighty chains,

to lie in bed with golden Aphrodite?"

And countered:

"Ah, would that it would occur,

Oh Lord Apollo, who shoots his darts from afar,

that thrice as many chains—unlimited—closed about me

with the gods and goddesses to boot staring at me,

if only I might bed down

with golden Aphrodite."

So he spoke and laughter rose among the gods,

but Poseidon wasn't laughing—

he kept begging Hephaistos, famous for his works,

to set Ares free, and addressed Hephaistos with winged words:

"Set him loose; and I guarantee that he, as you demand,

will pay all that is appropriate, before the immortal gods."

Hephaistos answered:

"Don't demand this of me, Poseidon, earth-enfolder,

making craven pledges to pledge for craven knaves.

How might I bind you, before the immortal gods,

if Ares should be loosed

from chains and debt together

and simply skeedaddle?"

Poseidon, earth-shaker, answered:

"Hephaistos, if Ares is loosed and evades his debt and departs—

I myself will pay you."

Then the famous Hephaistos, the god with two mighty arms, replied:

"It is not possible or seemly for me to refuse this."

So saying, Hephaistos undid the web-net,

and when the lovers were loosed from the bonds,

which indeed were peculiarly strong,

they sprang up at once—Ares off to Thrace,

while genital-fondling Cyprian Aphrodite left for Paros—

there they have a precinct

set-off and sacred to her

and keep a fragrant alter.

And the Graces bathed her

and grazed her skin with an oil of ambrosia

such as makes the gods gleam,

and dressed her in lovely raiment, a marvel to see.

-----------------
Charles Stein
Barrytown, NY
26-30 June 2006