Rant By: Diane Di Prima

You cannot write a single line w/out a cosmology a cosmology laid out, before all eyes there is no part of yourself you can separate out saying, this is memory, this is sensation this is the work I care about, this is how I make a living it is whole, it is a whole, it always was whole you do not “make” it so there is nothing so integrate, you are a presence you are an appendage of the work, the work stems from hangs from the heaven you create every man / every woman carries a firmament inside & the stars in it are not the stars in the sky w/out imagination there is no memory w/out imagination there is no sensation w/out imagination there is no will, desire history is a living weapon in yr hand & you have imagined it, it is thus that you “find out for yourself” history is the dream of what can be, it is the relation between things in a continuum of imagination what you find out for yourself is what you select out of an infinite sea of possibility no one can inhabit yr world yet it is not lonely the ground of imagination is fearlessness discourse is video tape of a movie of a shadow play but the puppets are in yr hand your counters in a multidimentional chess which is divination & strategy the war that matters is the war against the imagination all other wars are subsumed in it. the ultimate famine is the starvation of the imagination it is death to be sure, but the undead seek to inhabit someone else’s world the ultimate claustrophobia is the syllogism the ultimate claustrophobia is “it all adds up” nothing adds up & nothing stands in for anything else THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST THE IMAGINATION THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST THE IMAGINATION THE ONLY WAR THAT MATTERS IS THE WAR AGAINST THE IMAGINATION ALL OTHER WARS ARE SUBSUMED IN IT There is no way out of the spiritual battle There is no way you can avoid taking sides There is no way you can not have a poetics No matter what you do: plumber, baker, teacher you do it in the consciousness of making or not making yr world you have a poetics: you step into the world like a suit of readymade clothes or you etch in light your firmament spills into the shape of your room the shape of the poem, of yr body, of yr loves a woman’s life / a man’s life is an allegory Dig it There is no way out of the spiritual battle the war is the war against the imagination you can’t sign up as a conscientious objector the war of the worlds hangs here, right now, in the balance it is a war for this world, to keep it a vale of soul-making the taste in all our mouths is the taste of our power and it is bitter as death bring yr self home to yrself, enter the garden the guy at the gate w/the flaming sword is yrself the war is the war for the human imagination and no one can fight it but you/& no one can fight for you The imagination is not only holy, it is precise it is not only fierce, it is practical men die everyday for lack of it, it is vast & elegant intellectus means “light of the mind” it is not discourse it is not even language the inner sun the polis is constellated around the sun the fire is central

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