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A Limnal Hymn
Sic! Raum für Kunst
November 7 – December 6, 2014

The key to joy is disobedience.
There is no guilt and there is no shame.

A moon piece to fetch up the golden cup,
A snow piece to avoid the great heat of the sun
Is kept in the night and by the light of the moon.

An ice piece so as they seem forever fallen,
A night piece of the dismal supper and strange entertainment,
A rare chance-piece, a handsome piece of deformity,
The skin of a snake bred out of the spinal marrow of a man.

With stones and illegible inscriptions found about great ruins
Pictures of three remarkable steeples, or towers,
Built purposely awry, so as they seem eternally tipping and falling.

A transcendent perfume
made of the richest odorates
Kept in a box of translucent scale.
A glass of spirits made of ethereal salt,
Hermetically sealed up,
Kept continually in quicksilver,
Of so volatile a nature
That it will scarcely endure the light
And therefore only shown in winter,
Or by the light of a carbuncle, or a firefly.

And batwings sing this limnal hymn.
A wideness opening and closing
To keep the darkness sealed within.

To keep the darkness sealed within
A moon piece to fetch up the golden cup.

Johnn Balance after Thomas Browne.