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Extract the juice which is itself a Light.

Pulp,  manna,   gentle
                    Theriasin, ergot
like mold on flame, these red leaves
                    from mesquite by the side
of dry creekbed.         Extract

the tar, the sticky
                                of things
(each plant a star,  extract

the juice of stars
                                by circular stillation
            the inner man w/the coction
till he burn
            like worms of light in quicksilver
not the false
            puffballs of marshfire,      extract

the heart of the empty heart
                     it is full
of the star soul that paces fierce
in the deeps of earth
                       the Red Man,
in furs
            who carries a club
who carries
             the pale homunculus
in his belly.
                         For you are angel, you call
the soul from plants

                      or pearls of ambergris
out of the grudging sea.
                       Extract arcanum.  Separate
true Archeus from the false
                       the bitter
is not less potent—nor does clarity
bespeak truth.

                        Out of the heart of the ineffable
draw the black flecks of matter
                               & from these
the cold, blue fire.
                               Dry water.  Immerse
              though it be but a drop.
                                                      This Iliaster
flowers like the wind.
               Out of the ash, the Eidolon of the world


© Diane di Prima