The Recluse, v2

[wasellajam]

Hi, River. I understand that the lack of white space adds to the sense of rant but I don't think this poem could lose its rant if it tried and a pause here and there would add to the readability, there are certainly changes in direction that would allow a few. Some notes:

The Recluse


Bodiless powers enter frenzied revels
where contraries intermix. Where whirlwinds stir
wilderness dust, there genies pitch their tents
and transform the nearby cliffs into the walls
of an open marketplace---where fiery rays
shed by the summer sun shear through thick sheets
of falling water,[ b]Strong images through here, love the cliffs into marketplace and I can see the rays.[/b]

there foxes or witches or ghoulish
hybrids of men and horses pledge their troth,
exchanging rings then receiving crowns of gold
from their presidents---and all who witness them Presidents when I expected kings of past brought me down to earth.
that better partake of this material world
learn how the blessing of flesh is in fact a curse
when confronted by such caprices. Only so fast
can the limbs fly, the colon or bladder void
their troublesome load, the veins and heart supply
blood to the bulk's extremes, the eyes and ears
absorb such sights and sounds, the doughy brain
cross its wires to comprehend both how
its vessel falls apart and how the surrounding
tempest beats and batters:Strong and fluid rant on rot.

only so gently
can devils display their sundry wares and haggle I like the gentle devil.
in tongues beyond the merely hopeless to grasp This line is awkward.
for those not of their race, the tigbàlang make
their solemn vows then purse their lips and kiss, 
by one way or the other spittle sweetened
with supernatural nectar being exchanged. Strong hissing here.

I've travelled the world---I've seen and heard these all
if keeping my distance, if wary to lose my wits
by watching from where the eagle builds his nest
or straining my ears from well within the safety
of mortal civilization---if wholly confined
to a room that overlooks the setting stars,
who needs to walk or ride or sail or fly
when man, as an image of God, can image the world
by working with his fingers or his tongue? I'm having trouble following this and the way my brain makes sense of it changes meaning. I think you could tweak this with a few small changes for clarity.

Beware, then, the patch of light bespattered with shadows, lovely
the field of green specked red or blue specked gold.
Beware the silence broken by pulsing tones,
the drone that over and over stops and starts.
Beware the assembly that pledges to welcome all,
defining no outside group or force as other:
either it lies, or madness is its goal.
Strong ending.

Bodiless powers enter frenzied revels
where contraries intermix. Where whirlwinds stir
wilderness dust, there genies pitch their tents
and transform the nearby cliffs into the walls
of an open bazaar---where fiery rays
shed by the summer sun shear through thick sheets
of falling water, there foxes or witches or ghoulish
hybrids of men and horses pledge their troth,
exchanging rings then receiving crowns of gold
from their presidents---and all who witness them
that better partake of this material world
learn how the blessing of flesh is in fact a curse
when confronted by such caprices. Only so fast
can the limbs fly, the colon or bladder void
their troublesome load, the veins and heart supply
blood to the bulk's extremes, the eyes and ears
absorb such sights and sounds, the doughy brain
cross its wires to comprehend both how
its vessel falls apart and how the surrounding
tempest beats and batters: only so gently
can devils display their sundry wares and haggle
in tongues beyond the merely hopeless to grasp
for those not of their race, the tigbàlang make
their solemn vows then purse their lips and kiss, 
by one way or the other spittle sweetened
with supernatural nectar being exchanged.
Beware the patch of light stippled with shadows,
the field of green specked red or blue specked gold.
Beware the silence broken by pulsing tones,
the drone that over and over stops and starts.
Beware the assembly that pledges to welcome all,
defining no outside group or force as other:
either it lies, or madness is its goal.

Thanks for posting this, it was a challenge for me. While its imagery is clear and strong it's painful for one who tries to be a recluse. I think it's worthwhile to keep at it.