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  Everyone abides you

  Blake come soon and next and often

  Dante Cavalcanti Sappho Hafiz Mallarmé all Saints of Poetry

  And Saints also of any holy thing

  Our Lady of the Pillar, in mind out of sleep tonight

  St. Sephra Seraphim, be with me

  Goddess of Scriptures and Scriptoriums hold fast

  Simon Magus’s death giveth fire

  Apostle Peter is watching, nary no scold

  St. Francis of Assisi suspended above earth and watching

  Christina the Astonishing help my troubled bifurcation

  Rebbes, mullahs take heed

  Archangela Girlani hold up the 3-brane world

  Buddhas of compassion everywhere

  Please release us from your spider’s cradle

  Peaseblossom, Mustardseed O pray appear

  Deciders: return to your neutralized stations in the shadow world

  Your language stops revealing anything,

  instead revealing the nothingness of all things

  Can we dream our own melancholia for what is irretrievable?

  The Deciders think the troubadours were a problem

  Erasure, a suicide pact

  Magic doubles deceive you

  The stuff of your sex and the projection of mind…

  This is normal and sinuous

  They are taking you apart in the time/space machine

  Reading one upon another in fulmination of other lives

  Don’t go crazy, Original Anne

  Let’s go excavate some poetry

  on papyrus in cuneiform magnetic tape

  solid-state memory save on the cloud

  faced by an electronic pentameter

  “claw out some poetry eyes?”

  save on a cloud

  switching code in the runnels

  circling a moat devised as a first-front defense aporia keep moving, keep dancing

  mountain shifts

  ice crystals form on her duplicated mouth

  a forked path on forehead

  more streaks on screen bank

  which way to caress a broken brow

  familiar as your deadly Belle Dame sans Merci

  reels of orality

  chalk, obligatory calcium

  in marrow of women who wrote in ancient diaries

  bemoan their Heian imprisonment

  shape of crying like a mourner

  you could establish in humility this pose

  “shape of a mourner”

  who are we kidding?

  when Deciders cheer inside

  break sound they said

  manipulate pitch

  vocal cords

  phonation’s

  a discourse

  for the impostors

  what is language?

  “We use it, don’t we?

  in our copious memos, in our ‘releases,’ in our

  power documents

  in our homilies to the world

  cliché quotations on

  life

  suffering

  the passage of time

  on Patriotism

  on the need for downsizing

  on ‘tighten your seat belts’

  on finding the childlike naive spirit of servitude within the workplace

  don’t look now while you are looking away we will replace you

  with our own poetry, our mission statements of despair”

  This is a template application for the Deciders

  images of rows of normative coffee mugs

  as if we are having a pleasant chat over

  a freshly brewed cup of virtual coffee

  Hardest problem in science

  is the origin of language

  “we bend science,” they say

  prelinguistic system among primates

  our early human capacity for song

  level of public trust

  to sing your song

  bend or break it

  in ritual/speech evolution

  100,000 years ago to

  Homo ergaster, the first human to vocalize

  “can we find her and bend her over?”

  “vocal grooming, could be low-cost”

  “is she vocalizing? is that all she does?”

  language not separate adaptation but an internal aspect of

  something much wider

  human symbolic culture

  without it you die

  low-level marketing and publicity Decider has the bright idea of how to encapsulate his vision of “poetry making”

  “Aha,” he thinks, “a lone rocking chair at the edge of an ocean, then you can make what you will of this desolate nihilism: will she submit?”

  phonemes produced on the outsides of our body

  shed skins to be nameless

  decided the pipeline that will change the cartography of living things

  deciding the Grand Canyon

  hundreds of water bodies threatened

  endangered habitat of whooping cranes

  pallid sturgeons

  decide the future of American burying beetles

  decide assault weaponry, blood on hands

  decided the model of air, water

  of earth

  of fire

  in

  empire

  offer a truced tribunal, tear down the wall or they shake within your cacophony the end of wilderness

  memo: we need a commission for the scrutiny tribunal

  Deciders of all accounts

  took the stratus off a poet-face (stratus = layer)

  kept her in a cage

  cumulus more of heap like severance pay

  cirrus = mere curl of a hair resembles coil of sound

  double bind

  decided our debt to one another

  was it not humanitas & caritas?

  none of that, they said

  those who created a system of amnesia

  other gateways, escape hatch

  cascade of timeless motion

  hiding behind an ambivalent waterfall

  a waterfall just falls

  faceted elemental tableau

  it doesn’t notice your paranoia

  cloned sisterhoods in the dark castellum

  where is our feminism?

  your job disturbing the edges?

  crying like a mourner

  wish she’d disappear that other…

  nimbus

  halo around your words

  words like combs, twigs

  prowl the low and complicated grasses

  as a brick turns to dust

  nimbus is relational

  nimbus is the older sister

  more experienced

  hidden

  can’t shake her

  and shadow government

  off

  radar

  sequence by sequence selling off the genome

  Let me explain, the Poet said

  no vagaries I hate that you would think that

  not knowing but echoing mentor’s extant scheme

  neither pounce nor sweat nor becoming intentional

  the “that” in not knowing her agenda but make the writing clear

  would speak of the innovation of poetry

  anxious in the wings

  as if knowing might spark intimacy

  to bring release from knowable things

  of this world

  impermanence of the altostratus and such

  faint beads of sweat staining gossamer robes

  altruistic, asymmetrical

  altiplano did ascend together?

  did we climb the jeweled stair?

  or here

  did tryst?

  as in

  transfer and truce

  her part in my drama translated,

  she was an impostor of the worst order

  all landscapes not inviolable

  all terrain not off the map

  she bea
t me to the antechamber, and

  may I speak of urgency?

  spider thread spun

  rubble in late fall

  she took this man of mine and then she took that one

  It was a time of Gos = goose

  + summer

  Swedish sommer trad

  a summer thread

  silk goose down

  Mädchen Sommer girls’ summer

  Filmy…and took the women too

  Alter ego

  Bi-locator

  Capgras delusion

  Clone

  Fetch

  Ikiryo

  Vardøger

  struggle for Marriage Equality

  and escaped to scope the Tundra

  seeing the shape of a monster to come

  she studied these things

  Poet did this and then she did that

  she didn’t really want this or that

  but she did it this and that way

  anyway for the verbal motion of that and that movement and motion, the participial -ing for the sake of being in a verb

  Decider wanted blood in cunning

  and the possibility of poetic emblem, rune, insignia

  a symbol—a device—a ruse—of power to hold a master language together

  A world domination, Decider thought

  If he could but get the right word or words, he mused, the right combination of vowel of consonant of phones of phoneme of melopoeia

  and translate them all into every language in the world…

  he would know…he would hold…he would prosper

  but she withheld her knowledge

  and plotted the rescue of the tapes that would be held hostage

  my doppelgänger knows not the magic formula of

  look closely, the undertaker said:

  serpent ring entwined upon itself with ruby eyes,

  shapely waist, not as dainty as the others

  an amber “stone” the Poet had purchased at the Goddess Conference that magnetized wary opponents to her cause

  The Capgras delusion theory is a disorder in which a person holds that a friend, spouse, parent, or other close family member has been replaced by an identical-looking impostor

  Cases in which patients hold the belief that time has been warped or substituted

  have also been reported

  It occurs most frequently in females

  “They have taken her place!”

  “I will lock my bedroom door!”

  Psychologists have hypothesized that patients with Capgras delusion may have mirror images of “prosopagnosia”

  The conscious ability to recognize faces is intact

  but they might have damage

  no emotional arousal

  This could result in the experience of recognizing someone while feeling something was “not quite right”

  A phantom on my brain

  Not quite right

  replica, spits image,

  facsimile identity

  duplicate papers

  not quite right

  a ghostly counterpart

  ghost wife in debt or offered

  substitute in old revenge

  a double walker

  a double goer

  left temporoparietal junction

  conceptual elaboration kicks in

  blue as an iconographic polysemic reading

  space = akasha

  shining and clear

  keep it that way please

  you out there? in my brain?

  wanting to be who you are in the right body

  marry the one you love

  body against a boundary of space

  peripheral vision

  bi-location

  in need to project a body off my own

  let her take blame

  or credit

  entwine

  not quite right

  cryogenized?

  devices of Moroccan sky and geometry

  women cover themselves in hand of caution of curtain

  richly adorned

  undulate across public space

  Jamaa el Fna

  dressed like a hippie

  one in wig, bell-bottoms, with instrument case

  but down under, raging terrorist

  not quite right in the Argana Café time machine

  impostor you sing of

  secret knowledge in the medina

  impostors trick

  then leave you,

  endarkened prison cell, who gets inside

  subterranean bondage

  tit for tat

  I give you “bullet”

  you give me “stash”

  I give you numbers

  passwords, key codes

  identity papers

  people die

  more people die

  you give out

  murder in broad daylight

  as I pass through Switzerland

  dead faces of their youth

  in and on the blunt news and media channels

  artifact: a fruit vendor setting himself on fire in Tunisia

  The Deciders are concerned about damage control

  They are concerned about everything as the day comes to a close

  Day’s end, they say

  “At day’s end…”

  Deciders of the upper echelon are hidden inside towers

  and protected by radioactive shields or hunkered down

  in caves like secret cities

  Deciders send their signals all over the world

  They are themselves all over the world

  with passwords like “destiny” and “tintinnabulation”

  But the lower echelon workaholic Deciders

  spend long hours hallucinating an enemy

  of flesh, sinew, bone, of poetry and its portents

  They will design their clones to be mortal enemies

  They will wear the clothes of the superpowers

  Dark uniforms with powder-blue helmets

  They will create policy upon policy for pepper spray

  “Just give them some gunpowder,” they say

  They could also put a well-dressed provocateur in the Deciding-Way

  In the midst of a situation

  “A situation at day’s end,” they like to say

  “in our Deciding-Way”

  This is quite a feat, creating and visualizing an enemy:

  “A situation at day’s end in our Deciding-Way”

  You have to have a keen imagination

  You study hard to know how to do this, creating enemies you will need to destroy

  What color should they be

  Atom by atom you put the enemy together

  Giving your factotum gestures and dark poetic substance

  Or maybe he/she/it remains invisible

  A game in cyberspace

  And then you give him some attitude

  and he/she/it takes off

  He seems to be a player in the spectacle of life

  The upper-echelon Decider observes

  “Job well done”

  It has become quite clear the enemy will progress with attitude and firepower

  You can summon any machine to be activated in the Deciding-Way

  At the end of the day they always say it’s what they really mean that dreadful “at the end of the day”

  A tombstone, at the end of the day

  what use have we of spies and they be hanged for less

  look-alikes created

  in order to delude someone into believing

  that someone

  actually absent

  is present

  (reset the electronic security device)

  for example, a princess appears as wife of Taladhyaja

  you see?

  her sandals leave no prints…

  she walks above the ground

  carefully, slowly in trance

  her sari a sheaf of gold

  and this story might ci
rculate

  how to beware of her

  her theme of illusory “double”

  might shake confidence in the uniqueness and solidarity of

  her waking persona

  jolt her awake

  peculiar ambiguity of dream

  where the dreamer sees herself

  simultaneously as subject

  and as object

  the way the soul in limbo watches its own corpse in the Tibetan text

  way I touch you, gossamer,

  streaks strands hair filament

  splash in raw daylight

  dragonfly

  signal of gnat-life

  and with light

  striation

  expands explodes

  further

  to complex variant

  double of the dreamer who is both author and character behind the waterfall

  and press against outlying reaches,

  splash the boundary of allegory

  web of gossamer light

  to have a scrim of water separate from the space under the cavern and outsider worlds

  to melt a line between

  observer and observed

  the droplets disperse nearby to replicate the same way again

  what lives is harvested

  double in myths dreams

  or illusion between duplicadas

  walk this earth

  shell of emotion

  makes possible witnessing of the dream process

  protects the dreamer

  from dangers of complete solipsism

  of enclosing herself in a world

  in which she is the only citizen

  the living living

  living living living living

  the living living dreaming dreaming

  dead dead walking living dreaming dead living

  the living thread

  and in the laboratory grow life

  with a glint of DNA

  “I am the only one at day’s end,” the Poet might say