Negative Theology of the Child from ‘The King of Tars’

The muse calls me ‘Digenia.’ It is not my real name; that is suspended while I am traveling through these verses, now some 690 years old. To pass through this realm of allegory and myth, of device and symbiotics, one needs to carry a standard. Mine is of the ‘two-blooded.’ Twice-blooded, I want to say. Down through the ages, this language which I speak and write in has no words that contain me. There are plenty of hyphenated adjectives: Half-breed, mixed-blood. But, like the Great Mystery, symbols slide off me. Looking too close is dangerous. I might look back.