The Edge of Abstraction and the Voice of the Muse

In an Ancient Dialogue between Drama and Psyche, or a more modern equivalent, between the Artist and his Muse one wonders if it is dialogue, whose dialogue? Who speaks the poem? What is the source of the poetic voice?

Do not these questions about the essence of poetry, what metaphor is, and who it serves?

If I listen for metaphor behind a narrative or expository composition, will it explain the ancient Greek use of theatrical techniques to ritualize confrontations between the conscious mind, and unconscious psyche?

I hope in this essay to parse dialogues of some modern and Romantic poems into dramatic characters.

Reading re-enacts. Poetry is a voice performance. The voice moves in and out of a dramatic space the ancients correctly attributed to Dionysus. In this manner metaphor inhabits a numinous space - the poets make an approach to what is numinous.

Why the overlap in subject with the nine Muses? Here I'll posit a quick notion, and then get on to the substance of my primary argument.

The numinous implies a divinely infused quantity and needn't arise from an accepted canon. For instance, Modern Hindu mythology amalgamates a historically complex pantheon into a simple trinity of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. This implies that the many other named 'gods' in India are now either phases, or aspects or incarnations of one of the three primary Gods. The divine experience that an approach to one of these 'Gods' can bring about, eventually tires, as it becomes reduced by history, when all the tributaries of all the rivers coalesce into one gigantic stream which spills it's essence into the sea.

So the numinous in poetry may arise without a trace and without explanation. Calling the source of Western poetry the Muse is enough. Study of her brings one no closer to her phenomena. The numinous is indeed found upriver, by a rustling brook, or a vital youthful river plunging down out of the mountains.

In poetry we make an approach to something we have lost touch of. A poem is an appeal for direct contact. The mythos of most divine experience degrades into a tired tract which holds little mystery.

The classic Greek pantheon, being more complex than the one practiced through worship in present day India, leaves the amalgamation of simpler roles less complete. The ritual of this worship is preserved, or rather was preserved, through drama, without explanation. As the universe constantly generates stars, so Gods are born. They rise, as characters in a mythos, and are merged into greater bodies, larger longer stories. Every so often the entire mythos explodes, or there is death, and recycling into the Underworld.

In the modern day, this process continues unabated, due to the shadow effect of science, which purports to have put  stake through the heart of any God-like vestige.

For the Egyptian, whether a pharaoh seeking Osiris, or laborer awaiting judgement in the passage of the soul via the Egyptian Theatre of the Dead the Journey into the Heavens, may be seen as an flow opposite to the return of Demeter as experienced at Eleusis experienced through the ingestion of ergot tainted wine.

The practice, the theatre at Eleusis, was in essence group poetry,  a collective approach to the numinous.

-=](:W:)[=-

Over Me

Over me, I can, I will, almost know heaven.
You belly dance and surf,
Whose saucy women will phone?
Think through dreams,
Some know,
     a more aggressive cuddle.

Babe, he talks behind dim harmony,
Gives dates, a fit Husband
     plays rank.

Glorious spotted slug! Hypocrite lust party!
     Your body blossoms through ruin.
Understand. No grander diagnoses are upon her,
     You are dazzled by a silent crowd.

January 7, 2008, with Tiana Hunter, 3, 4, 4-2, 5



[She comments that my neural model for psychic intelligence is far too mechanical to 'know heaven'. (can you find where she says this?) . . . She adds this as an aside at the beginning of the cardboard, dismissing in one line, much of the work I've done this year. 

[Then she turns to shapely Tia . . and mocks . . "you who belly dance and surf!" . . . imagining that Tia does these things. . .  then she asks "whose saucy woman will phone" . . . which girlfriend will call later . . . ? . . . possibly commenting, Tia this guy's busy! . . stay away! . .  and further dismisses my speech as "talk behind dim harmony". "Give a date fit husband". . . what sort of date? . . the date she is talking about is something else . .. a date by which I must ?. . .  haven't figured this out . . . .

[She calls me a 'glorious spotted slug', that I'm holding a hypocritics "lust party"! . . . Yes in some ways . . . and then to Tia who had expressed concern about her 'body wearing out'. . . "Body blossoms through ruin", Ah, here she has all of us, mocking all mortal life . . for whatever blossoms is soon not to be in flower, whether beauty, drive, lust, creativity. 'Pick ye flowers (Gather ye rosebuds . . . ) while ye may.' 1.]

1. Robert Herrick, "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time", stanza 1
     "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
      Old Time is still a-flying:
      And this same flower that smiles to-day
      To-morrow will be dying.

Muse Poems:

   1  2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45

46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54

55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72

73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

05/03/2006 - "East" , Aesthetics after, what she meant

[This is a commentary on one of the Muse Poems, written as a journal entry a day or so after working.]

KNB wanted very much to work with me, so I made a late appointment on an evening that I already had scheduled earlier work.

When she arrived I noticed she was quite pretty through the face. I liked her immensely. She was witty intelligent, and understanding of the project. We smoked quite a lot of weed together after making the initial drawing, and then went to the pile of words to finish the piece.

Words were drawn randomly from the pot, in groups. I would call out to her, "Pick 5 words", and then she would read them to me after a little arranging first to give it the most meaning. "Pick 7 words". Neither she nor I wrote the poem, though I did the writing on the drawing. She assisted, and drew the words from the inexhaustable supply.

Sometimes the words made no sense at all so I would exploit the alliterative facility to round them into meaning.

In a few instances where there was a word that K___  just didn't understand, I'd let her draw another.

In the middle of the poem there's a comment, "Daddy needs his smoke." 

We got up to go smoke!

This was an incredible moment, I felt I had tapped a reservoir of meaning, all knowledge, all that was original. I also felt that there was a limitless flow - the only danger was that the crude radio I've devised to tune this energy in, would somehow fail, or drift off station, and that I would never hear this voice again.

Here are my thoughts on meaning:

Aesthetic after observation / He said it after observation

[Observe her first - then apply an aesthetic. Observation might lead to an aesthetic ideal being false or worse, ugly. Aesthetics, or the philosophy of beauty and art,  may be viewed as scientific theories, indulged until facts emerge that prove them wrong, or, make them unwearable. She's saying, if you use aesthetic judgements, make genuine observations first. So we expand understanding by pulling on the tight fitting clothes of our theories.]

"Think, feel subject, follow no hate"

[This is yogic universal love. Study, and love, but follow nothing motivated by anything less than love. So far so good.]

"Night appears Pregnant"

]How could the divine feminine be anything but pregnant? The existence of all existence is born in the Divine, and conceived within her.]

"Sculpt, assist her, then health, clever character the finger, must thou impression."

[I seem to be getting the advice go with my own hands as an implement of creation.]

"Mother is like Peace, like angry wild howl. Paint my differences."

[Paint all the faces of Kali. Love all aspects of Her.]

When it came time to assign her initials to the work, I asked K____ what her real name was. She was incredibly surprised the reading had spotted her lie.

She told me her real initials, LB reluctantly. I wrote it in.

LB wasn't willing to lie to Her.


[How am I changing the words? The poem is sound, silly sense arranges to thought, if emanating from a light producing activity. Right wood, right ghee. Think right thoughts, hear right sounds.]

03/07/2007 - Warrior and Child

This piece was completed
at the end of a very long evening . . .

M____, who plays violin expertly
posed with her 'Baby'.

I traced her poem around her
The Amazons did this.

Her bow was her sword,
she carried her 'Child',
into Battle.










[That ancient race of female warriors the Amazons, it is written, took their children into battle with them. There is debate though as to the origin of the word Amazon. One explanation derives from the Greek 'a', without, and 'mazos', fr. A.Greek μαστός (mastós) or breast, because one breast either was covered by a sling for a quiver, OR, by a nursing child, OR, as it has been suggested by historians, was removed entirely as an expedient way to free up the drawing of the bowstring. This would explain why in 'memory', (history is cultural memory, or 'mammary'), the Amazons were re-membered as being one-breasted. 

There are curious synchronistic associations with other usages, such as 'history is one-sided',  'half a memory', 'having lost one's memory', . . and so forth. The power of roots reverberate through the work of an eon of poets who listen for sounds, affecting usages everywhere.  Etymologists will quibble, because the roots are different; 'memory' is latin derived. How about 'in memorium'! Just having fun with my memory banks. 'Newborn babes have no memories, but their Mommy has two mammaries!' 

M____, in this painting, had no idea what she was portraying when she took the pose. But she took it. And when she spoke of her violin as her 'baby' I knew what she was referring to.]

You Won't Cover All Love II

TRANSCRIPTIONS OF POEMS WRITTEN WITH TIA HUNTER DURING TWO SESSIONS
Jan 7 and 28th, 2008.

Transcriptions from five cardboards, in reverse order as they lie on my floor. The psyche can't wait for the pen of a secretary. Like an unexpected dream, content begins to evaporate.

We wrote poetry, then set it out on these bits of cardboard. What follows is my my honest attempt to transcribe then understand what was written.

[Already I see deviation from what was put into the paintings, Tia re-arranged some words, I also took transcription liberties and made some errors, as well. Transcription liberties? Again, I follow rules, the minimum that may be done to a sequence of sounds to give them sense. Verbs change tense, plural may become singular, vice-versa, pronouns and prepositions dispensed as needed, but only as needed. The objective: attain some sense. Always to praise. Never to flatter. Always listening for 'her' voice. If in doubt, self-deprecate. The cruelest message is preferred to the kindest.]


CARDBOARD ONE

He caught some bird of black
who want under my fear
Relate me how dirty canvas come
s chameleon who guts earth    [add letter 's' to prev. word, make plural.]
then say wry marry have trouble
pathetic parasite envy ing music
humidity give s notorious skirt
a share our pride hearted system

CARDBOARD TWO

you passion in sleep
for uatch capture sure face     [interpret ''uatch" as 'watch]
what howl did serve my young face
to always need
as slimy curvy and emotional snake


MY INTERPRETATION CARDBOARDS 1 and 2

He caught some bird of black
Who wants under my fear
Relate to me how dirty canvas comes
A chameleon who guts earth.
Then say why marrying has trouble

Pathetic Parasite! Envying music!
Humidity gives notorious skirt
A share in our pride-hearted system.
Your passion in sleep
for watching captures, sure, faces.
What howl did serve my young face?
To always need a slimy, curvy and emotional snake

[The Muse speaks about my becoming an expert tracker of Raven . . . or rather. . . the principle of guidance. Remember the Muse, or 'She' as I often refer to her in these rambling diegeses, and 'Raven' are in a sense 'cousins'. Raven's from Native America, the Muse from Ancient Europe. Both are mythic representations of a psychic force present in all being(s).]

My friend Rainbow called me after Tia left to say "Mark there are two hundred crows in my yard" (why two hundred?) . . . She (the Muse) is curious how I 'found' this principle, likes the story, and so she asks me to tell it again. . . "Relate to me how dirty canvas comes. . . " . . . about the 'chameleon who guts' / cuts, earth. . . This chameleon. . . or representative of Quetzalcoatl, the sacred lizard / snake / bird . . . then says . . . 'Link that thought to 'why marrying has trouble'. . . i.e. 'tell it to me again!'

The Muse, and here I am speaking very much of Robert Graves' Muse, loves to be told stories. In this she is not unlike a child at bedtime. She becomes quiet, dispenses with her prognostications, and clairvoyances which she normally dispenses as if they are condemnations, or commands, and in this mode she is truly terrifying. But her eyes glaze over like a child ready for sleep, as if she needs our dreams to see and understand.

She blasts us again with the phrase 'Pathetic Parasite' . . . Envying Music'.

Yes I do envy music . . the gift of the Muse herself . . how is it not possible to envy the nature of music, the mystery which is sealed away even from our most talented.

"Humidity gives notorious skirt' as if 'make it damp enough and it will get sexy'.

Really? 'Humidity' sounds like "Humility'. She is the first to call down any mote of ego.

So she continues 'take a share in our pride hearted system . . . . your passions in sleep' . . .for watching captures. . sure . . . faces . . She is talking about my night-time projections and journeys . . . . . Then she asks why do you always need a slimy curvy and emotional snake? . . . meaning why are you endlessly attracted to the notion of original sin. . . Garden of Eden . . . Woman in that role. . . To Tia . . what howl did serve my young face . . meaning does this poem make sense to you?]

CARDBOARD THREE

Over me, I can, I will almost know heaven
You belly dance and surf!
Whose saucy women will phone?
 . . .think through dreams some know
as more aggressive cuddle

Babe he talks behind dim harmony
Gives date fit husband
 . . . plays rank.

CARDBOARD 4

Glorious spotted slug, hypocrite lust party!
Your body blossom through ruin!
Understand! No grandeur diagnosis upon
are dazzled with a silent crowd.


MY INTERPRETATION CARDBOARDS 3 and 4

Over-mechanical will almost know heaven
You belly dance and surf!
Whose saucy woman will phone
Think through dreams, some know
. . . as more aggressive cuddle.
Babe he talks behind dim harmony
Give date fit husband!
Play your rank!

Glorious spotted slug!
Hypocritical lust party!
Your body blossoms through ruin
Understand no grander diagnosis's are upon her.
Dazzle with a silent crowd.

[She comments that my neural model for psychic intelligence is far too mechanical to 'know heaven'. She says this as an aside at the beginning of the cardboard, dismissing in one line much of the work I've done this year. 

Then she turns to shapely Tia . . . . 'You who belly dance and surf!' . . . She clearly imagines Tia doing these things. . . then she asks "Whose saucy woman will phone" . . . i.e. which of your girlfriends will call later? . . . Tia, this guy's busy! . . stay away!, . . and further dismisses my speech as 'talk behind dim harmony'. "Give a date fit husband'. . . I am a husband and somewhat fit for my age so that's me . . . but give a date? . .. . oh well I tried but Tia turned me down . . no the date she speaks of must mean something else . .. a date by which I must? . . . haven't figured this out yet. . . . 

She goes on to describe me as a 'glorious spotted slug' running a hypocritical 'lust party!' . . . yes in some ways . . . and then to Tia who had expressed concern about her 'body wearing out' . . . she warns 'Your body blossoms through ruin' . . this is true of all things as beauty appears invariably before decay . . . . But she also says that Tia is healthy . . . and goes on to encourage me to work silently . . . this is a constant theme in her statements, and is always telling me to 'shut up!'.]


CARDBOARD 5

you wont coward all love creature
hone how minion nerve esteem fellow
clean here there it
little sister breathe sweet
thoug did forget my only
past has yet ebb
observation
I
sure marvelous
emotion electric
or his play
our many companion
concrete vapour
palpable past
infinite faithful idol
more balance will free
make important and very crass
impulse & sculpture
drive chisel sculpt when aware together


FIRST INTERPRETATION CARDBOARD 5

You won't coward!
All love creatures hone how I'm in nerve
Esteemed fellow come here, there it is.
Little sister breathe sweetly!
Thou didst forget my only past
Has yet ebbed your observation.

I sure marvel, emotional electricity . . or his play.
Our many companions. . . concrete vapor . . .
Palpable past . . infinite idol . .

More balance will free and make important a very crass impulse.
And sculpture drives chisel, sculpt when we're aware together.


FINAL INTERPRETATION CARDBOARD 5

You won't cover all love!

Create your home, how I am enough?
Esteemed fellow come hither.
'Tis your little Sister,
Breathe sweetly,
Thou didst forget my only past
Has yet ebbed your observation.

I sure marvel, emotional electricity . . . or his play.
Our many companions . . . concrete vapor . . .
Palpable past . . . infinite idol . . .

More balance will free and make important, a very crass impulse.
And sculpture drives chisel, so sculpt . . .
 . . . when we're aware together.

[in our last cardboard the Muse, after calling me a coward, but also an 'Esteemed fellow' and addressing Tia as 'Sweet Sister', goes on to admonish Tia for forgetting her . . .

Why 'Sweet Sister'? Ah. . . . The Muse, whether she be Calliope as defined by the latter Greek poets, or, Demeter or Hera, or Artemis (goddess of the hunt), or any of their antecedents, or, even the Mother of all these Goddesses without a Greek lineage, . . . . who ever she 'is' indeed she is acutely aware that Tiana last name is "Hunter", and that her first name means 'princess'. So she calls Tia, "Sweet Sister". One Goddess to another. 

She admits to being marveled by emotional electricity (from the work) . . as well as the dramatic 'play' aspect of it . . . but wants me to take the abstract past. . . all the 'companions'. . . the 'concrete vapors' of the past and make them real . . this will take a very crass impulse (i.e. sexual attraction) and make it 'important' . . i.e. endow it with grace. She wants me to make sculpture 'when we're aware together.']

What Did She Mean?

When confronting this work it is important to understand there are other poems hovering nearby. The idea is to extract a 'reading' from the Muse / Oracle that makes sense for the moment.  


The ritual produces a drama.
The drama produces some sounds.
The sounds we think we understand.
We ponder them
Consider them.
She will not repeat herself.
We are outside in the light
With nothing
But memory.


Like crystals, the possible 'readings' are inexhaustible, and keep changing. The 'reading' is the sound, that arose, . . from the work. The work is the drama that led to the reading:

     Model, Play companion hard.
     So always laugh when in such worry.

[She  means you are working me very hard here, and also commenting that you laugh nervously when worried or stressed. It's a sign of inner unrest. This line implies that your laugh is your finest quality, demure, sweet, . . . releasing tension. Any such undertaking is fraught with worries, concerns. Who knows what we will find in our search? This activity then is similar to worrying . . .  because we worry, i.e. we are attentive, whilst we are engaged in any kind of new or important activity. We are 'on the edge' so to speak. . . between dreams and wakefulness, between Life and Death, between Gods and Mortals . . .  so laugh . . . what else can we do?]

     Finest Life Bothers Him
     Feeling crushed, breaks new competition.

[She is saying to you, JF,, that my fine life actually is a bother to me, that I enjoy in almost a masochistic way "feeling crushed", having to start over, or throwing myself into emotional turmoil. "It breaks new competition", that is, gives rise to new possibilities. She is commenting on me, and saying 'Don't worry about stressing me out, he likes it.']

     Why am I fashion?
     I kiss when I know I have space

[The original line here is "Kiss when neo s have space". 'neos', Gr. for 'twins', i.e. the two of us. She is saying, "I cannot account for my popularity - but don't crowd me". The Muse does not like to kiss when cornered! She also implies, 'I kiss (bestow Grace) when you know yourself, 'Γνῶθι Σεαυτό' , fr. Thales 'Know thyself.' This is a complex answer, 'know' also means 'to know carnally', meaning that she will only kiss when she knows, thus obtaining space as a result. No one can survive the carnal kisses from an Immortal. The other root, remember for the sound, not the spelling, is Greek 'neo' which means 'new', which is also the homonym of 'knows', They sound the same remember. Spelling doesn't count. Know becomes 'knew' becomes 'new' beomes 'neos' becomes twins. In this manner all language is structured. I'm saying structured, as you woud 'observe' structure, not how it was made. It was made differently. 


     If they reach behind, feel!
     Act out vintage missive like silent patience.

[She is telling me to shut up when my muses, i.e. you!,  reach into their past. Instead of interpreting verbally, I should 'act out the vintage missive' - like an old letter, patiently. She's giving direction in how I conduct the process, and how to react when certain things happen. She says I must find a way to ritually act these things out. In other words just as this poem acts out a reality, so my activities must be part of that act. Understanding is not the same as knowing.]

     Weep all! Howl! we represent the null set.
     Discover Mother Dust in beggars!

[The original line here was "We represent the anal Pal howl we said." . . . There are ways to go with this.'Weep All!' from 'We' and "Pal' . . . . 'the null set' / which sounds like  'and all is said'. It is all sound and vibration. She is saying, 'Listen Guy, I say everything'. We, in other words ('your models and I'),  represent the Null set, that is the entire set of things that are nothing in number.  . . that is the set of nothingness. Death and Absence, pure Void, able to overcome all, out of which everything comes. So weep and howl all you want! If you want to understand nothingness go and use beggars for your models! She's fiercely critical.


My later interpretation of this line takes it back to original sounds. . but reworks the order for clarity. Having done that the sense of 'We represent the anal', is discomforting. She's reminding us that 'null' and 'anal' have similar meanings. Kali is at the bottom of the world. So I'm reading it as:


     We represent the null
     Pal, Howl we said.

Remember, the Muse speaks metaphor, like crystal, and could have just as easily meant:


We represent the Interpol!


 . .  which caused me immediate concern when I read it! She does not assign any of it a single meaning. All of it has infinite meaning, but is true to itself. In this way mythos is like fire or water.]

     Confront your passions, empower!
     Your wasted selves appear many.

[This is typical of the way she addresses supplicants, particularly me, with a generous dose of disgust, even blatant derision. There's no point in trying to round the corners of what she says. Stand near fire you will get burned.


'So you aren't using beggars?' You can hear her derision, 'He prefers to work with young women!', she mocks. "Your wasted selves", appies to us both. She is saying that until we confront our passions, we waste our selves (pl.) not Self (sing.). Selves may be cast down like elves, but only the Self is the way out of Hell. (cf Bettleheim, Snow White) Ok then, use this to confront your passions! This is the essence of Tantra. There is historical precedence as well.  You have both wasted many lives, or selves by following passion, instead of understanding passion. Understanding passion means allowing it.]

     No one can question Father,
     Understand, learn inclusive dark earth.

[She flat out says the Father i.e. the principle 'of 'the Father, the male principle, cannot be questioned simply because it does not have answers. She is also saying 'don't bother asking him!' (me) because he doesn't have answers either! Again a derisive tone. Matter has strength. Energy dissolves in Matter. It is akin to saying "No one can question a stone." Only the Feminine has answers, which must be understood and learned, like dark earth.]

     What could please her?
     Sculpt her glorious smear.

[What work of mine could please the goddess? Sculpt her! Her transcendant beauty is like a smear of Mother Dust. Glorious Smear also refers to her sex, the yoni is like a smear, a touch or caress. When not filled it is not Void, but when filled it is the essence of Void.]

     Here mellifluous style's above opportunity.

[She is saying that "mellifluous style", poetry, or rather the style or art of sound, pleases her, and is above or more important than opportunity of any kind. Above all she cares about form, style, rules, and manners. Hers is the ritual path. Remember no matter what she says, the response must be in poetic form.]

     We give from love, free thought
     Come lost Infant!

[She says her gifts come from love, and are given freely. Come and take them lost child.]


This is not all that she said. In one voice, she took your voice, and mine, and your parents, and your lovers, and those different men you talk about, and she has them all talking. What do you want to hear?

What Bird?

This is a commentary on one of the Muse poems, "Bird of Black"

Here she speaks about becoming an expert tracker of Raven, . . . or rather. . . the principle of communication throughout the psychic / mythic universe.

He caught some bird of black
Who wants under my fear
To relate to me how a dirty canvas comes . .
A Chameleon who guts earth.

Then say why marrying has trouble
Pathetic Parasite! Envying music!
Humidity gives your notorious skirt
a share in our pride-hearted system.

Your passion in sleep,
for watching, captures, surfaces.
What howl did serve my young face?
To always need a slimy, curvy and emotional snake.

                                                                         1/7/08 with Tiana Hunter

Can Raven be tracked if Raven doesn't wish it so?

This is an interesting question and pertains to all the spirit guide deities, collectively some of the most powerful forces in human history. Ganesh, Hermes, Raven, every culture has one.

A spirit 'guide' is a psychic force, given form and prayed to for guidance. All of the forms taken by spirit guides move, that is they transition from one state to another, and can pass through any barrier. Hermes guided an old man through the embattlements at Troy. Ganesh is famous in the Vedas for providing guidance to the needy, through any barrier. 'Hermetically-Sealed' was a Pasteur-era way of saying that early canning processes sealed food against the spoilage caused by Hermes.

But can the spirit guides themselves be tracked or followed? Can they be followed if they do not wish it?

Years ago I found the embodiment of Raven in a young woman named Rainbow. She called after Tia left to say "Mark, there are two hundred crows in my yard" and is curious how I 'found' this principle . . . so she likes the story. .  and asks me to tell it to her again:

"Relate to me how dirty canvas comes. . . " . . . about the "Chameleon who guts [or cuts] earth." This is a representative of Quetzalcoatl, [Quetzalcoatl is mythologically much the same being as Raven. In Central America he is the sacred lizard, half-snake half-bird, who travels with ease between heaven and earth.]

Here she asks me to link that thought to why "marrying has trouble". . . or . . . 'tell it to me again!'

She blasts us with the phrase 'Pathetic Parasite' . . . "Envying music". . . Yes, in my defense, I do envy music . . the gift of the Muse herself . . how is it possible not to envy the truth or beauty of music?

"Humidity gives notorious skirt'", as if, 'make it damp enough and it will get sexy'

"a share in our pride hearted system . . . . your passions in sleep" . . . for watching captures, surfaces [your faces] . . She speaks about [my/your] night-time projections / journeys then she asks why do you "always need a slimy curvy and emotional snake" . . . meaning 'why are you endlessly attracted to the notion of original sin?'  Here she refers to the Garden of Eden, and the woman cast in that central role of Eve. . .  To Tia, who is Eve-like. . 'What howl did serve my [thy] young face?' . .  . meaning, 'does this poem make sense to you?'

She knows poetry; "Howl", a famous poem by Allen Ginsberg, is her reference to poetry in general.