5.0 out of 5 stars
An oneiric magus of the marvelous ..., January 15, 2010
This review is from: Secret Games (Paperback)
A book of conspiratorial analogies, a poetics of stealth, love, larceny. Involved are the seizures of insoluble light and the inviolate nature of secret games. This is the continuing dialectic of You & She, metaphorically begun in Bogartte's THE WOLF HOUSE. This is the intersection where the marvelously erotic transforms the nuptial alchemy into the the conjunctions of paradox; a game of carnal & spiritual combat between King & Queen in the promenade of The Wedding Night.
"Your first intent is always the grooming of the bride and her fearless claws"
"She moves her presence closer to yours ..."
"You lick her claws, bathing her shadow"
"She licks the blade, summoning eros with her tongue ..."
Under the gaze of the wolf, the wedding couple, in sacred tryst, does the work of fire, the work of the marvelous imperative. The wolf as cinematic symbol, as symbolic cinema: as in "nuptial ravishing practices". Within the crucible of "mercenary tenderness" does the presence of the wolf become the ground where "prey seduces the predator" - "she partakes of his pleasure by adding her own distractions".
A shadowy narrator speaks from behind the veil, from the floating surfaces of some of these prose poems, where "the voices ... are threaded ... into the eyes of wolves". And as in THE WOLF HOUSE, the sequence of these prose poems loosely links the images of transformation that inhabit the horizons of a fluid dream-space - a en-gendering crucible in which image is loaned to word and thereby vouchsafes this fiat of fire-language. It is the transparent bride, her "secret rendezvous" indicating her identity and "the obsessions of the bridal chamber", who is both "the key and the lock, the shadow and its reflection".
SECRET GAMES is a continuance of cryptic spectacles where the marvelous erupts into the cracks where the crumbling mortar of igneous juxtapositions reside. This is where "the brides come and go like silences ... where the silences come and go like brides". Under the orphic shapes of a conspiratorial wedding night, "there is no darkness lonelier than an invented one".
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