Six Cantos: Poetry by Jon Rappoport

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Six Cantos

by Jon Rappoport, Outside the Reality Machine
March 22, 2019



Miles of unrecorded sand are

The skin of the dragon…

Haunch around the night

Preparing to shrug off hotels



This is the age of the actor

Who’s found that every other age

Was lying in its rooms,

In fumes and spice,

Weary of the pose in its own device.

This is the age of discovering

That every other age was dying,

Muted in a flame,

Born in presentiments of gold

In the pose of the honored name…



Lamps are lit

Along the Appian Way

Caesar steps out on the running board of his tent and waves to the surging crowd

This can only end in elevation to heaven

What else is left?

How many conquests until the gods tap him as one of their own?

Assassination? Impossible!



I dreamt we fought a war to build Time from

A column rising out of the sea

And now, mystified by our own presence,

We aim to destroy it



“Burned flowers of the field

My noon is over, growing old,

Everything I love is finally sold.

Sewed designs for men with money

Thinking it was duty,

To watch them lead the world to war,

From my little field of beauty.”



There is no army of artists of reality

There can never be such an army

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