This one key

Opens the seven doors

The beloved is hidden

Behind seven doors

Each door is

Located miles and miles

From each of the other doors

In the same series

Save me, save me.

The beloved is imprisoned

Behind each of the seven doors.

Though it is one beloved

And it is seven doors

Where have you been hidden

         (Pause)

Out of my sight

This door

Behind it?

Yes

Yes?

No.

Behind each of the seven doors, at once

Hide the single beloved

Here are seven keys

         (open 1 thru seven)

You have been using the wrong kewp

To open the wrong door

Try again –

Try again

   (open door, tube of gold)

Will this never end

These seven keys

Opening seven boxes

Inside each box

Is a pure fruit

That must not be eaten

Do not open such a box

Do not eat such a fruit

Wrong wrong wrong

Open such a box, yes

But do not eat such a fruit

I will use just one key

For all seven boxes

         (7 fruit out)

Of these seven  fruits—

This one

Is the one, that is most perfect

         (return others)

I will not eat this one

         (box out)

Wait—wait

The box which had contained the perfect fruit

Had disappeared.

This is not the perfect fruit

(monster eats fruit) (kill monster)

Small house on)

In this house

There is a single door.

Seven  keys must be used

To open that single door

         (all keys in wall locks)

Now turn them

Now the door inside the house

Can be opened

There is no enterence to this house

Which contains the door

That can be opened

Where now

Hides my bel;oved.

         (enter ass. Chariotte, hooked

         woman goes and sits)

Seven keys will open the door

Behind which, I must hide.

Then I will be perfect

         (open seven doors, cover with sheet)

(exit chariott. Cloth over doors removed.

(Seven swords. Extracted, returned)

This one

Does not budge.

Try again. Try again

         (extracts and throws away. Go try others, hesitate.

         Gets discarded one00.

Blindfolded, girl runs on sword, stagger out)

         (off blindfold)

I dodn’t know whether my beloved had come to me

Ands then disappeared from me.

I will eat the perfect fruit

I will eat the perfect fruit.

You will never die. You will live forever

Where is my beloved

He who never dies

Finds love

Behind the multitude of doors only

Each single door

Hides , nothing

The vast multitude of doors—

Seven doors

 No 7 times 7 times 7 times 7 (etc)

         (suitcase)

Inside this suitcase

I have not the key

Ah, there are no keys

To this suitcase.

It is the suitcase of the beloved.

It is the suitcase of the beloved

Bind it to me

The suitcase of the beloved is never to be opened

Live a normal life.

Live a life that is 100% normal

Will I forever hold

This suitcase

Bound to my body

Here are seven keys

I have no idea

How to use such  keys

Here are seven animals

Ready to swallow seven keys

I have been forced to sleep

In the beds of seven animals.

Each of whom has swallowed one

Of seven keys

I hav e been violated

By each of the seven animals

One after the other

(kills animal)

Where is my beloved

Here

No, you are not my beloved

Here are seven keys! Etc)

In such a situation

My friend Wanda Pearson was wont to say something like—

“Dismantle knowledge,

without damaging it’s component

perceptions”

Remember: the Gods reach past

each and every one of us

and yet some, nevertheless

feel touched

Reject all perception

All connections to what has been before

All interrelations, follow ups, disguises.

Remember: making good use of your time

Means never amounting to anything

Unfinished thoughts—

Free of all calculations—

Too swift for the head that registers them

To ask

How might this be used

Degraded, humbled

The only hope in defying death—

Is that these moments

Must remain fragments

Not organized, not unified

Folded back into death

Without being corrupted

By the system of the beast

Nothing is more unbearable

Than the mechanics of thinking.

For that reason

Disrupt its progression

After each registered moment

All leaps in knowledge

Occur sideways

The way knights move

On a chess board

Anything that grows in a straight line

And in a predictable manner

Is without significance.

The skewed and lateral knowledge

is alone decisive

To live in  secret

Could there be anything

More wonderful

Never sharpen your thoughts to a point

Break them off

In their nakedness

When everything fits together

As with philosophers

It no longer means anything.

Disconnected

It wounds and it counts

It could be

That certain ideas

Are not supposed to have any effect

But to exist only for their own sake

But in that case

Undistorted. Nothing more

Tell oneself continually

How fruitful misunderstandings

Really are.

Collect such misunderstandings

Living a life of wasted moments

But moments which light up

Suddenly, all at once

A shattering thought

There may be noting to know

And error comes

Only because we try to know it

The solution is

To keep smashing yourself

Until you become, whole

To find something truly new

Guard against any method

Of investigation

(this responsibility lies in the entire man

and not in one special undertaking)

It is still something to have lived, thought

And fought with oneself— Even if

no one  else finds out about it

Be indifferent to the question

Of whether you will prevail

Only find out what you sense is there:

That’s all

Never tell me who you are

I want to  worship you

Sometimes things get so close

They ignite each other.

Such illumination, coming from closeness

In whatever realm—

This is what we live for

A philosophy of intersections

Condensation without falsification

Not to tamper

With suddenness

A better way of listening:

Listen to the unexpected,

No longer knowing

What one is listening to

The definitive statement is

The least conclusive.

What is vague or careless

Acquires substance

By virtue of what it lacks

Suppose I were  to tell you that

The beauty of your physical presence seems

To flash important messages

(which obliterate the more questionable

body-factory

that I know is at work

beneath the surface of things)

1)

Probably, his

Was a generation ready

To re-write history.

The problem was

(such) automatic glue

2)

Instructions in the new

Behavioral patterns

Fell through the cracks,

But something or other

Flourished

3)

The giant step forward

Was accompanied by appropriate musicians,

In transit, hence

The destination solidified

4)

Certain messages

Flashed simultaneously:

Therefore a worrisome silence

5)

The science of the peripheral

Vision in which

No discoveries

Could surface

6)

Having chosen a direction

He quickly

Populated

The realm behind his back

7)

I didn’t feel protected

So I perform gestures

That anticipate

The application of a

Different realm of being

From this realm of being

8)

At the moment when

Everyone glances

That moment reveals the truth

Why is there still that

Tangle of emotions

9)

It couldn’t be helped

He depended on others to

Compress a life of

Indolence, into one

Intense piece of information

10)

To be in the realm

of the vulnerable

Where great plans

Statistically

Capture the imagination

11)

He was never able

To forget his roots

In site of a brain that in mis-firing

Flourished

12)

The figures following him

Were given secret names

But there was no need to understand

Their motives, they simply

Flourished

13)

Turning ideas into physical reality

Was no longer possible.

The world was

Something else.