Gossamurmur (6 page)

The management of the full range of metadata is through the Metadata Encoding Transmission Standard which provides a structure for encoding descriptive, structural metadata…etcetera
.]

The spectacle under suspicion. The gaze under suspicion. Orality is feminine.

The Deciders abjure feminism.

sorrow enlightens,
they say

sorrow knows no boundary

sorrow: an acerbic archival wilderness

sorrow penciled in red

a direction in my book of prayer

apocalyptic vehicle

interstellar vehicle

intertextual

intertidal

intertwined

but I would intervene

and call myself intervenient

an intervenient vehicle

convenient in sorrow

   a lurid interruption

someone who lurks

waiting to spring to life

prognostic,

and needing escape

tears that splash and are a running mate in all endeavors

but this illusory world is also sensuous and joyous and intangible

as a woman I drank wine and ate forbidden things

intoxication to distract the Original Anne

a plot on imagination, a romp through time and gender

as a wifeless sage,

or wandering singer who carries a lute

another version:

the sage emerges from the water

on the occasion

of his transformation

from woman

into man

he still holds his woman-hand above the water

it remains the hand of a woman holding a succulent fruit

he dives back into the water immerses his hand

turning into the hand of a man holding a lute

when the sage leaves the world of illusion,

a perishable memory turns a hard enduring lute

who decides reverie in the russet castellum

can force your dreams in their time/space machine

as I went to bathe in a lake I morphed

I came out on the bank as a woman among women

when they asked me who I was I said,
woman

             
I think woman among women

who I am where I come from and how do I have the form of a woman

I have no idea

I left my male form but woman I think woman among women
            is deception a pronoun?

Vishnu picked up my lute and went away

I forgot my former body

a king came by he married me

“she whose face is her fortune”

down with kings who decide magic

flavor my desire

a twist where we talk

we joke about language modules

and make love on the road

I could be created out of twigs and dirt

as he puts in the mechanical apparatus

the world is full of Deciders

I’ve always felt and say it such again

the world has to change for true identity (love) to burn

she sent a message to the Base,
whatever you do to me know this

I know this from Derrida

Archive is shelter

Archive is the disembodied voice of a palpable consciousness

Archive is a jumbled dream

Archive needs poetry you must never forget

Archive is inscription

Archive is aspiration

Archive tells many stories

I am archon

and a mere inscripted postcard is Archive

when we return to our speech

and start our own country

take this as directive:

memory of an animal is also yours

Archive all opposable thumbs we have record of

and many wisdom identities

Archive’s murmur circulates around the room

Archive lets originals breathe

you can’t tamper with Archive

it’s a strange cosmology

Archive is antithesis to a war on memory and stealing of poet fire

Archive is the tender footprint

Archive will not tread on the footprints of the most vulnerable

Archive is a trust

let Archive record the names of those going out of this world

Tristan Albatross

all disappeared

all suicided

Archive listens into the margins

Archive is a privileged topology

Archive exists as a map of the future beyond the exigencies of electronic media which has transformed the relative reality of
Homo sapiens sapiens

if you are good at this, please memorize

are you good at this?

memorize Archive

Archive could be safe from composite strife

[
Gain Intellectual Control of the Collection.

Consider cassette tape life expectancy.

Water pipes run through storage space: materials are housed in a100-year floodplain with environmental swings, no climate control.

Security: multiple keys to storage exist, the space is not secured—walls that leave space at ceiling height can be easily breached.

Digital collections on CDs which are at risk themselves due to disc failure and equipment obsolescence….
]

Archive is housed by, and reanimates sentient beings

Archive is nest, is house, is reverie

Archive will hold you

“And the line comes (I swear it) from the breath…”

Archive is aubade, is alba, is Tagelied

is seduction

is Mnemosyne

Archive is dying and Archive is not dying

who lives to push the buttons to install the implants of Archive?

a far agent, a forest, a mountain to climb, an orange sunset, a cloth for the body

strong ropes to circle and carry

dynamite with an App for soil content, an App to read constellations in the sky

moon a fingernail above you is a modest proposal

sometimes a wildebeest on the tundra remembers a former life

and an albatross crossed your shadow at sea one day

Tristan whose name means sadness quested the Grail and drank a love potion

This is the sublimated test of future identity

always felt a brain to be

fluctuating syntagma

a syntactic/semantic processing

semantic
as in being brain-and-consciousness-awake

syntax
as sister to succession, a superstition

do I have control in scenario? do I love my mission in life?

scenario: where they lock me up and take my poems from me

and make undue mockery and travesty of Original Anne

and control her life span

maybe she’s object of jealousy

open surgery in a theater of observation

scalpel coming down

I feel like the scream of a cyborg

as I watch my archival consciousness threatened

as the spirit struggles for survival

whisper that would cause a drop in the water table

no single river flows to the sea

whisper that traverses the braided river

as a tribal uprising might clash your civilization again

no leisure from the Deciders who take up so much of your attention

getting into the airwaves again

what brain will access that dangerous frequency?

no leisure from deciding

the worth of everyone

the dollar value of intellectual property

try to love within a system

survive the within: of being within system

gap in the charts,

life force dipped down yet still within itself a system

acts of marauding identity theft

will threaten life span of poetry

by gossip you get the story

a cautionary tale, amnesia

include:
Lycaenidae

About 6,000 species worldwide

whose members are known as the “gossamer-wing’ed butterflies”

The blues (
Polyommatinae
)

The coppers (
Lycaeninae
)

The hairstreaks (
Theclinae
)

And the harvesters (
Miletinae
)

all still extant because well hidden in planet-life

Some larva are capable of producing vibrations and low sounds that are transmitted through the substrates they inhabit. They use these sounds to communicate with ants.

Adult individuals often have hairlike tails complete with black-and-white annulated appearance. Many species also have a spot at the
base of the tail and some turn around to confuse potential predators from recognizing the “true head” orientation.

Ants have their own systems but receive survival “calls.”

These are signals to be collegial

she thought about her station in life.

did she understand the metaphorical
duplicada

and the philosophy as crepuscular which is fragile by definition?

ruse or trick of time to use her body and form as…Poet?

she would visit Chasm Falls

climb East Desolation Peak

she would scout for a safe haven to house all hope and fear

or did she aspire beyond station what she’d been born to…

flicker of it,

“place”

out, out of it

fragility, the joke about past lives

the hunting of the golem, stick and mud effigy

as when she first looked at a corpse

someone she had loved

wanting, watching as his body flamed

to smear ashes over her own body

ashes that were once steady arms

held her fast

sturdy legs of a body

twisted around her

a flame coiled at the center, below

as he enters her

dare speak of a face?

they were exceedingly young

she said, becoming one together

like a cargo cult of magical thinking

dark curls

saliva

l feel like a suttee widow

long hours at the Ganges

looking out on the water

devotees come to bathe

collect the drops of polluted water now

still sacred in the imagination

lineage of sacral tears

thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air
…

watch the flames on the ghats

dart like insects to the sky

a night sky this time

smoke coils like dragons,

sea serpents, or seeing the skeleton of a phantasmagorical airship

ascend through clouds

she put the ashes of her mentor in the duplicated river Tirta Gangga

spectacle of death

a phantom skull at the breast

gleam, did she kill her shadow?

polished bone—color of raven’s wings—turned

to blackest coral—at the breast

might still gleam

or the hollow sockets once his grand old poet eyes

wasted in spectral identity?

co-opted in a ghoulish meditation

how an impostor might coalesce

and enter when your mind is weak

turn away from it

but you know

how demons enter

backward

facilitating the extinction

of the Zoe Waterfall Damsel

she might set it down, all extinctions

would they be of any use in her prism

bringing events to order?
backward

she saw masses of fabrication in the stories others tell

saw through claims and exaggerations

saw through protests of love, fealty

way a daughter might, skeptic

of “history” might

especially “his” or rather a “his” might

or big sister or mother or “hers”

being ahistorical

see spectacle as separation, spectacle as end of our linguistic aid

a “mistress narrative,” you might say, perhaps preferable

subtle           persuasive

insistently oral

most melodious tone

studied other languages on foreign language tapes

spent time in the prison library

an auspicious time

up against uncertain worlds

shrinking

where human is finite, an invention of recent date

time that we say our fantasies are controlled by propaganda

born too into the middle of a century before

we are “gone”

or when the mores changed and

favored women who were set up against each other in jealous rage

that too passes…will pass

may allegory speak of unconditional love?

I want to amuse you, my doubles, hasty beloveds

come wash all your thoughts upon me, a seed-vault sanctuary on a remote sea

a living casket Porsephina keeps of Archive

old romances, antic lore, and scrutiny take over,

considered the centuries she had been born to cross

in crossing of millennium

twin broken vertebrae

interminable time, it seemed

growing

to archonhood…

what she was willing to part with

let go of

who lets go of

shed more skins

why she would go out as one one day

go out as another one the next

looking into the darkness of her own time

with congruent vision

artifact: a silenced vibration in your pocket

cause for alarm?

the other Anne took to the stage