The Harbor Shoal Baptists

 

The Harbor Shoal Baptists

 The shrinks of Newtown cleanse the mind of Casanova's Colon.   The epath of Leviathan flows beneath, down earth and under sea, up aquifers and fracked. Old world  dying new, monsters grow. Great news to the genetic machines covering the globe. DNA alters of  food, strange government camps, Blackbox and Red Rover ops. The thing about digital tentacles is they reach through land and sea. Placed under the pyramids, a capacitor to fractalize DNA sprays out of the top rebuild/re-create the earth, but not an earth we know, the ritual ashes of Scalia spread with nano code. The level of synchronicity is so mythical  that LevBy Sound off Long Island at Montauk point seems alive with Hydra heads and tongues lashing. Its eyes look over the west, long necks with dragon heads tailored specially as if it knew where you were going, or ha!, where you were or should be going. Now you know why Odysseus put out its eye. And here's another clue, it reveals clues only you can find. It wants to be caught, sneak up on all colonists.  If you study it it studies you. Paranoia mon amour where they argue Fortean fish stories. These lives surround like some Alternative 3 of research dictates.RockaBilloy and the effigy of Achilles Arch  thrust fault this land.

Deep River inhabitants where the LevBy flows up the Coloni avoid them. Those on the beach name their port with glandular humor, Lev-By, which should not obscure its actual name as Leviathan By the Sea,  waiting for it to appear, Profusion of myth and mellow fruitfulness spreads so easily on wings of cloud and fire. Be advised to shoot those birds before they land. Too late for some places. Note Pishon and Gihon, lost rivers of Eden and Phlegethon and Lethe, rivers of hell. Some haptic French oracle toasted Old Town LevBy as Leviathan camouflaged as a fish. Marinas and buildings formed piscine architectures. Not marlin or tarpon, bigger than blue whales contoured and massed, finned and tusked, metallic surfaces scaled like Pharaoh, monster of the depths. All nonsense if Leviathan is beast government produced out of shale like oil and gas and mined like one of four beasts come up from the sea. Springs of oil in a temple shot up above like the vertical eyeballs vertical of a frog.

Because they have never seen the actual Lev their buildings take on different shapes of eels, whales, squid, materia proxima, materia remota, materia ultima. The new mystical man of the last chapter of perfection. Histories of patriarchal ages contained in the Odyssey and Iliad also account themselves, not to speak of the capture of Jericho. Behemists of Thuringia purled ecstatic over this time stream. Over rock and ledge, balsam pine hid in the small caves of landslide with the natural springs of Aurora, crystal  Philologus esoterica hid in the character of all things and prefigured a deliverance that thought soon to be displayed. Colonies attracted all the extremes.

 

Inlets of Coloni sail the rhumb lines of this continual debate. Some fill with water and some with iron oxide and rutile that wash the tangled hair and ice crust off that great brow of Christopher Colon which overlooks our port. Water distorts the vision of Old Town below the Mount as if there were a hook in its nose, as if under water souls make the water bubble. To look at the thing so many times lessens its power to disturb. No better preparation for Leviathan could occur than to have it preceded by such events in art which prevent it being understood. Mind waves in the untold hybrids loosed upon the world, worn on the arm,  bracelets, pendants, rings, in case you’re bored, refract in water to disperse. Chromatic aberration of light in water distorts focal range in the near by 33 percent, which scatters tidal architectures everywhere, seen as a marina undersea. Color fringing at the edge of an image distorts its geometry. This scattering blue-green removes red light and then the remaining colors of the rainbow. In other words, weather-altered culture changed in about  sixty years. You didn't have to be an intellectual to know it, just look at the physique of the 1/3 morbidly obese. Iron City beer never looked so good or the Iron Age of Ovid beside these experiments.

Followed by revisions and forgetfulness, if not of fact, the spirit that produced those times was lost to memory, only remembered in differing versions now of what had been, which continues in the present streets and on the beaches of these Mabinogians who  seek Leviathan, so far unknown, their predecessor only imagined. They visit upon ocean the vow that if they can only come to land they will lead a different life, but then being revived and seeing land wish only to remain on water free of the self so attained. Their present civilization is as unrecognizable to the elders as it is to the youth whose time and place are unimagined, waves breaking the shore in periods as various as the rhythm of currents, ocean, storms. Remnants of their driftwood, shells, crustaceans and occasional dumbfounded whales wash awry on land in byproducts of a billion billion cells.

 

 

Groups of water Baptists and monks with hired agents, the last of many, prevailed years before. The five microcosms did not recognize these elves as believers, but no one questioned their nerve. Oddities of this spiritual topography can be known. The Harbor Shoal Baptists begin speaking with eyes closed and go so long that even after the audience departs they keep up their antiphonies. These were elders in a Council of Watchers. Their women were virgins and their congregation Rachel sought to be pregnant after long ordeal. Her delivery awakening in fifty years became a colony which you can see in the upland meadows where these ideas came in.

The Harbor Baptists march the streets of LevBy singing Yesu, Yesu. Which processions unscheduled appear every other day or so. Long lines of tonsured monks chanting through streets might be an accepted order in today's towns if we had no TV or sublimal ads to make do. The singing isn't so bad, or so loud, but the spirit of abnegation is worse: "fill us with your love / we know how to serve / the neighbors we have from you." They hold immersions in the harbor, baptisms for the day they call it, to "spend the storm," since they view the  whole culture as dead and would substitute themselves for their neighbors.

To draw a net of crucifer about these offscourings of the ribs of refugee earth, that is Darwall's 148th Diademata, they wear a white dress. Through it can be seen in their lean bodies the transparency of how they suffer, for we can see through them. Singing to people listening from roofs, who hear wasserflussen to bring whole cities into the wool, as their saying goes, is not as imitation but as inborn. It is odd to see them walk side by side with colonials who worship the Lev.

Leviathan was invited there. A child born pure and innocent was not scrupled to live among ten millions of the womb. And just at the moment that the Chyld came to the wilderness, where all the rest wait for Leviathan, this new born come among the slaughter of innocence, belief drowned. Farmers praised their manure piles and the one eyed barns  prayed to their pigs. Figures swimming overboard could be seen under the waves after ships had sailed. In the normal unbiased world this idea presumes a vacant mind. Familiars act upon this with their own disapproval. Were we to expect to meet a certain person, as if they were dressed like an anchor snared on a reef, or an approaching figure were deceitfully to take their garb, merely the idea of walking makes our expectation endow it as a friend. Slight hints of the eye go a long way in the brain of one peeled naked. There is no distance at all to the brain of the other.

 

Ship channels dug into sediment receive these the way the Hudson enables Lev's passage further and further inland. Some covert arrangement seems to convey ship captains as administrators of Leviathan and Co, meaning of course the fish itself. Why not call it a fish or reptile of some sort which cooperates with the dredgers, marked by bodies jetting up and down the glacial canyons miles out to sea. Which churching, we should say churning,  perhaps makes for weird weathers of mist inland and on both sides, racing argues there is more than one. How else would they breed anyway, but leave that to the entomologists. An expert sees what the tyro misses, not from eyesight but improved mechanism of the higher centers.

 

Most histories of this time mislead by personality. Presidents were entertainers, not to deny monks and Baptists worldwide. Diverse mythmakers of that collective fiction fathered early and later government. Virulent self interest leapt to the Hemoth dish. Down at the other end Leviathan, chief magistrate, ruled unlike any man today.

We must remember the origin of the name of these Baptists came from the most radical one who lost his head. What did you go out into the desert to see? One eating and drinking or one wild dressed in skins eating honey? These Harbingers trimmed their lamps to observe signs moral and preternatural. So many anonymous became murderous out of greed they put small cards or slips of paper with a different couplets verse-spruch in a box for distribution among the worshipers. Whenever an oath was uttered the offender should be handed a paper to put under his tongue. They ate their religion as much as did the hermits on the sea ridge that held every vein or artery could prevent sickness if doctored for the citizens below, in the tabernacles, in the streets. They practiced this as a cometo-scopia, divination by comet, a stream, which divided in many small rivulets carried them all the way to the flood. There the Harbinger might appear with the Elamite Journals of Millennium, carried by the Baptists. Baptists intoned highest prayers of suffering, not that they should avoid it, but that it should come to them, to share in the universal pain like mystical Dominicans. It frustrated all later histories that Baptists should be as much near the waters as that Leviathan should be, coming up in house and home.

 

Up the hillside in caves, but not so deep, the precipice hermits built log tabernacles of planetariums upon the Brow, which novel planetariums could see the One who loves goodness so much as to allow his friends, good people not constantly to suffer. But for this reason he could not allow his friends ever to be without suffering, which humiliation they could suffer without suffering, for this was the woman in the wilderness spoken of as the colonies were swept in complete revolt.

 

 They were not ignorant of the apostolic Jerusalem where the trumpet of Illyricum would blow. That the sixth vial for the elect would measure out a barren wilderness. The fruitful wilderness of the elect with log tabernacles forty foot square, the logs themselves an impossible miracle today, number the perfection. Then the new earth swallowed all that aforementioned flood and its New Sun. The Blinding caused all stars to fall, some said disappear. This Pia Desideria of the Dunkers, the Ranters who combined that sixth principle of their belief, the laying on of hands on the seventh day with the conduits of these sea routes to Zion, revived the sixth trumpet together with the sixth vial.

 

In the matter of this contention wind was greater than water by what the water became in the wave that washed itself away.