Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Canto 36 - The Castle Calls

He tossed and turned,  never given a thought to what it was like
 to be alone, in  stellar slowness and a pause,
 of pause that made everything shutter,  from the wisp
of his hair,  towards the lock  of his four head.

And then suddenly  he woke to sudden sadness,
 as he did not know what to do with himself,
 glowering every minute of every hour,  and then some,
 how odd it felt after giving himself to sweep lullaby.

A division,  a vision,  and something  else besides,
 a memory,  a delusion,  a confusion,  a sigh
 taking task to that slumber which no man quite grasped,
 and yet when it takes him,  it is by chance, rattle  though at last,  peace.

He awoke on  his chest,   bound in circular sidelights,
 with one knee over one arm,  and the other knee in space,
 he did not think this was possible,  and he still did not,
 it was a malign figure which he strode from.

Then there was a knock on the door,  given to no prevarication,
 instead  it bluntly called his name,  as if the person
was happening for him, and for him alone,
 tireless  incessant tirades until it cascaded into oblivion.

"You are to come with me."  as  plain  as night of day,
 to figure said to him,  and looked grimly about  is  resignation.
 in figure cloaked in mystery,  garbed in black,
 with a fedora atop,  and a cloaked garb below.

With endless pause,  and no trepidation  or fear,
 he went out in to  the black hooded walkway,  which was the stairs
 and check to see whether any lights were allowed,
 the dimly lit bulb   screamed a dimly lit presence,  that something was right.

Each event behind the man beyond dimly lit screen windows and doors
 as if each one accused him of doing something wrong
 though he did not know what it was they accused him of
 it was something dirty,  and at all florid in its wares.

Then he got outside,  not through the main door,
 but aside into a side  way that he had not noticed before.
 there were rats chasing their tails to calm their  gnawing little  tails,
 and cats  to chase the rats  over the  entrials  in a scrub.

 The gnawing  party was a crew nasty and unhappy with what they did,
 and all the time with greedy eyes inflamed,  looking for the next opportunity
 to lash out at another foe  in this exultation of spam.
 it was the only way that they knew.

 It reminded him of,  oddly enough,  the  ancient  poets,
 and how they would hunt through each other's things
 and clean some strand, and put it in to different context,
from there to true to meaning,  as if to say "This was always like this."

The day was cloudy and spare in it demeanor,
 there was not a break in the clouds,  not a gap,  not a trace.
 he looked beside at the man,   cowled  in what looked like
 a jacket to large for his frame,  in fact to large for have again.

"Where are we going to?" He had to  ask.
 Then came a reply: "You are going to answer some questions."
 On one hand this was actually what was required,
 On the other hand this torturous route was not pleasant.

 Than at the curb of a main street,   they were picked up by  limousine,
 and then he watched as the town below group small,
 and the tower  above grew as large as a moonbeam,
 tall and gaunt and ever so much more malevolent.

 He looked over at the companion,  and at the crooked way his face
 to together several features which did not make sense,
 he had curvy lips and a crooked feature which was a mouth has again its size
 and shifty  beating eyes that seemed to look in all directions.

Then  settling back from this demans  he had to believe
 that things were going to be ever weirder and contemplative in  there course.
 there were things out of place,
 like the coffee that  spilled from his companions lips.

 he realized that he sat on a  crinkled paper
 and he dug it out and read  the tiny little lines:
"I know you must be thinking of when you got this letter,
 and I will tell you I do not know when."

"But I will tell you that I was sent by Don Dellilo
 and I arrived while you were sleeping.
 I hope you like the underworld,  and will talk about it
 if I perchance  see you,  if I ever know you."

 But what ever else they may imply,
 at least there were answers  and had in the palace.

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Canto 35 - out in to night air

 Nor wins would guide us from the calm,
 the moon and all the stars seem hung
 not as if fixed to distant sky.
 be here is rich with  moisture

 Movement made heavy thereby
 it is August,  in these regions without
 summer autumn winterring there are
 only seasons of wind. Becalmed trade storms will be.

 The steaming whispers of its delight
 surrounded him to Azure shimmering light
 when up from the Gaza Strip of Coeur d'Alene
 along the  cold morning light in an absolute dynne,

A gravelly came from deep within, far under the ground,
 of maul,  of some essential sound,  that blasted through
 the Joshua tree of journalism watch
 and it sourced from some unnatural err,  though one did not know what.

Their was a moon light,  but most was clouds,
 and a trickling amount came through it his face,
 as if some torrent  eclipsed the face
 and found its way down into  its guts,  and had a vision.

Alive as the moonlight was alive,
 cold as death itself was dead and gone.
 and as I said like the Joshua tree,  burned in cold moonlight,
 would be etched along a black and white starlight.

Because as the  Joshua tree was as a name for
 a distant din which could only be named by those alive,
 for those who staff  signified a bleating  life after death for a time
 which never was and ever shall be a brief decade.

It was calm and still,  almost reverential act it's wake,
 of time that people felt alive and alone both at  once,
 a torrid little memory from one's so long ago,
 that for little men try to reclaim the world's greatest rock 'n roll,  and couldn't.

That was the time which I am referring to,
 out of its twisted byways,  and merged in to a distant  memory
 that once was defined by picture of Vienna 1914
 and how it true it's like from the twisted byways of its era.

There were  stairs and  alleyways  going up size of the distant castle,
 where even stairways with their  gloom  of  depleted gas light,
 was a signifier which resembled the stars,  though upon the earth,
 and what else could be reckoned with,  the stars above,  and points below
 each one flickering at the other,  until they were alike.

There was a feeling of dropsy in the moonlight,
 which shook itself onomatopoeia as  it should
 with delight and on a month  via.
 all was calm as the flickering wins drenched the sky with a flickering light.

Yarns of darkness curdled down and extinguished
 the sledgehammer views of darkness engorged  light.
 an somewhere here he saw shadows of doorways and light
 that came in to view as being  shut in  by torturous grasping.

It was the insight shutting out what was outside,
 wresting its way  so that shivering like would not go in to the outside
 but remain we're it was curdled and prim  as if to say
 it was held within by shuttering light which only just escaped.

He looked up into  the night sky,  and saw blackness hide
blood seemed black but was  in truth the darkest blue
 which one could tell only from the true blackness within,
rotundity that eats out of the core,  and  blackened every shadow.

He remembered in his pocket the note to Dom DeLillo,
 and wondered if he had indeed  wroted  it or had he just imagine,
 it was sometimes hard to tell,
 he saw on the frame appear of dark towers shooting up.

The  were gone  now,  a vision of a future,
 which was not to last,  for then it was gone.
 to pair  of towers that were in a flash gone,
 by a madman field with dementia,  but with a plan.

He thought of all of this,  shimmering in the  nighttime
 and the oval the memories that it had gleaned
  from his twilight recollection of them,  gone as but a dream,
 gone as a different era had come to best the old.

Yeast tipped down little terrace ways,
 in to the   heart of darkness,  which was a home in prose
 dedicated to a man whose name he could not remember,
 but whose time we were still in,

He heard conversations which were dim
 and between his footsteps,  in murmuring convalescence
 things he should not have heard,  but did,
 in the wondered what was real and what was not.

Then he saw the lobby,  and do that it was time,
 to lay down and dream,  wondering what was alive and what was dead.
 and what was in between the lines he drew,
 and murmuring how to get out from there to  tetralogy.

Has a hierophant  polonaise  tip its way through the
 tulips  and then was gone,  with a list of Dawn coming.

Monday, March 2, 2015

Evan: every month is at female characters month

Canto 34 - A conversation

A disk it task it,  all that I love will  ask it,
 in the room there was mischief making and close
 the uncomfortableness of sound and fury
 until it could make a  ruinously tender as a tomb.

 I could see in the vision of my eyes
 such wonders as could not be described
 from the pathway with a sapphire  all covered with blood
 the expenditure of wit I could not judge.

 Deliberately has quick class it snaps and quivers,
 that door of door of my deep door it seems,
 and then it shut between itself,  though I did not know how.
 what resource commands the largess  gift and then some,

Who was standing here?  What was his  countenance?
who want where if how to we know  the final stepladder
 irrepressible rage,  who friends and fellow alike  avouch
 with little tales told on the side,  and then we hear meant
 to come back to reality and whisper thoughts.

As I was there to contain my thoughts expressions in the weeds,
 and contained in shepherds clothes to walk with dignity,
 even though they were unmasked as fools,
 giving no quarter,  nor asking any to this day.

 I stood and stared into the face of Ezra Pound,
 who with his Cantos,  was mine opposite inform and feature,
 twisted out of their statesman,  who blinded with theory,
 formed a rush of conservative thinking to this day.

He was irascible and crooked to a smile,
 each word he used was selected to be the meanest one possible,
 and yet for all of this he and only he could sing,
 such beguiling poetry as no one else could.

Others were given short verse,  but only one other
 could deceive the eye into believing that it was gifted,
 and that was W. H. Auden,  who formed an inverse of his,
 but in the desk Pound  had irascible joy to his gnarl  face.

Do realize I was talking with pound even eyes I was
 thinking aloud to myself,  because the thinking was more important
 then what I would relate to myself,  the meaningless was gifted
 a gamester yet sensible of really,  and the conversation  broke free.

"Do you not know of Kublai Khan,  and all the things he was said to do?
 Do you not know the lynx  of currency
 transferred to  transferred to Adam Smith
 which on that year Metevsky  to America Del Sud along the  lion's  gate?"

I was a in my  dreams,  everything made sense to me.
 now listening to Pound,   it seemed as if everything I knew was sand
 and it  glimmered and  glistened under his tongue,
I could not make sense of it at all,  not a single frame.

He galloped to a different drummer as an occasion rumpled up in paper
il duol che sopra Senna
Induce falseggiando la moneta - Paradiso XIX 118
Always thinking about money and how it governed our emotions.

It was as listening to a man struck alive and well.
 by a different drummer,  by a man who could not rest,
 until he said everything in his piece,  and then rested,
 as a cold gray stone would arrest  in a smooth  black pond.

Jurors refused to take oath saying while the
chief justice of this court stands impeached
 he will be rejoiced and returned once we have killed the union
 and all that it stands for,  under very God of very God.

 I was awestruck act is acts of fruition,
 and did not know what to say,
 where the forces of the United State  were called
 Pirates for almost resting

I think of a woman who I did not knew well at all
 and yet she is the person who in my minds eye
 I can truly say: "you are only person
the only person who who I love."

 Then I came back to listening to Pound,
 The magnetic dreams which he pushed into my eye,
 the regiments and banners will return
 as the siege skull returns with force and blisters.

 Then I laid my hand and said I had enough,
 so pound gave me a copy of Divine Comedy
 in the original Italian written in Duke Leopold in Siena:
"You should learn this"  he said, " and after this John Adams."

He said this with such a flare that for a moment I would do so
 thinking that if he is insane,  better that than what most people become,
 a twisted gnarled set which becomes straight in time in time,
 rather than the other way round.

The twisted tragedy of our age,  he said,
 was people  knowing fact as fiction.

An example for (Database)

Let's say  that you are going to get a flu shot,  there are three things that are involved with this:

1.  You - the patient
2.  The flu shot
3.  The hospital which will administer the  the flu shot.

So we can model this has a 1-1  correlation  between  you and the flu shot,  because after all because it  goes in, and it doesn't  come out again.  And you only need one.  So that means there is a one to one correspondence  between the flu shot and you,  but you and the hospital could have many interactions,  You, the hospital, and the flu shot have only one,  because you and the flu shot have only one.

So we can model it like this,  you and hospital have one to many,  because everything that they do you will be recorded,  but you only go to one hospital that day.  So the hospital has one to many patients that they seem,  but you have one to one,  because you only visit one hospital in that.

We can model you,  the patient,  in one table,  the flu shot in another table,  and the hospital in a third table.  we can then model the interactions,  the relationships,  on the grid.

Fair enough,  but what about the shots which have not been given yet? Where are they?  some of them might be distributed,  and the can use negative numbers for flu shots which do not have the patient yet,  but are ready to be distributed by the hospital.

But what about liquid which could be made into a flu shot,  but has not been distributed yet,  and may not be for a human being,  but for some other animal? We need to set up a fourth table,  one that measures  the liquid,  and determines which flu shots were extracted at what time.  This means that a flu shot has one relationship with the medication,  but the medication has many to 1 relationship with the flu shot,  because many flu shots can be extracted at once.

Now what about who works for the hospital and gives you the flu shot?  This needs to be a fifth table, that of an employee. But an employee and a patient share things in common,  and that means that there is things in common form a table,  and the subsidiary aspects of the table to determine whether it's an employee, a patient,  or both.

The same thing may be done with the flu shot,  yes it's a  flu  shot,  but in a larger sense it's "a supply",  and can be modeled as such.  And you can use a relationship which has more than one duty,  for example,  you may have a flu shot,  lets call it "FS" -  for flu shot -  and then a series of numbers which identifies which flu shot  it is.  So that way you have  a flu shot and then a string of numbers which identifies the flu shot exactly.

This story - and many other like it - absorb most of the power of a relational database.  but there is more to it,  and how much more is the subject of our story.  because you would think that since your dealing with finite objects,  then a relational database only deals with   finite objects,  but if that's the case then why have true,  false,  and undecided?  What is really going on here?

The reality is more complex than you can imagine,  and where going to make an attempt at teaching you this,  though you may not get it at first.  but that's all right,  because this information is hard,  and it takes a lot of people several throws of dice to master it. 


Look up here!
Could tune old war  perfect a curve?
Or soft living  marble contain edge form?

And what figure in geometry could explain,
What balance means in such visit terms?

But each measure of static perfection
Falls short in care description
of each figure four in perfect  motion,
Upon the source of pure devotion

How she gazes in deep thought
and concentration the being  ageless
Reading, judging, taking each
of the wisdom writ upon page
Ages human thought
and this the source of her altercation.

Her focused formed without distraction
Beginning hollow  formless function
Which holds no spark of inner motion.

The agonist blogs on blog Some think on where blog is going.

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Oli for NN

Its seems a vote for net neutrality... good job.

Turing machine and its wholes

A Turing machine is a Beta-0  machine, and it can do calculations,  and an infinite variety of numbers which are themselves finite.  But in the spaces in between these logical points,  there are  an infinite number of other points,  which go on for ever. In these points,  which we will number Beta-1 there are the spaces between  the whole numbers and finally fractions.  These points are what is to be found in living machines,  and that is why living machines can do a variety of tasks which computational machines as of this point cannot do.  Think it of it as an Apollonian gasket or Sierpinski triangle .

Canto 33 - The Lobby to Grand Hotel

The need demands, the need demands ones
full  attention span, and more than that, more than.
 each moment of time distilled into  a seething  bioluminescence
 that crystallizes into form,  and then is gone.

Across the street,  wafting in to view on this soot and  smoke
 was  a hotel,  which was the only one of its kind.
 across the Hurley burly of the railroad  crowd,
 was the delightfully refined sense of elegance.

Glistening with things never seem,  accept at the hotel,
 everyone else here did not use such things,
Because mama don't want no swinging round in here
 and you might as well become used to that desecrated fact.

Red,  of the richest kind was hanging floor to ceiling,
 it was indeed a medley lamentable course between rich and richer
 the way that a pocket garden of clarity ensues
 when it's course is to corrupt the  rich and furnish  the poor.

There were sparks of  purple around the room,
 to suggest that something was magical about the place,
an   warranting as was determined deeded and done
 by some larger   quiescence which had not shown it self as yet.

Added table with his stool next to a piano,
 there was a man cooped up by himself playing what he could play,
 for you know that mama doesn't want no swinging round in here
 so he pinked  a tune which was mauding  in  it's movement
 and so really corrupt that one could not tell what it was based on.

My eye gravitated towards this figure,
 because he seemed like a rock,  amissed all  this frippery
 so I stood next to where he sat and twinkled
while his hands did their work,  glistening on the keys.

He barely mentioned my presence,  but considered his station
 while the murmured that mama don't want no swinging around in here,
"What can I do for you,  Herr Boss,  we don't get your kind around here."
 you must have had some  twinkling in the eye,  though I might have issused.

"It seems that mama does not want swinging around in here."
 and without any breath he nodded that that was the rural,  strictly enforced.
"Is that all you would like  know,  or is there some reason for you to ask?"
 again without murmuring or stuttering out the phrase.

 I fiddled with the envelope to Don DeDillo,  but put it back,
"I am from the outside,  and want to know what people are summoned here for."
 he arched way up to the treble  notes and down to the bass,
"I thought you'd know why you were called round here."

 "I have no idea,  not at all,  I was just summoned and went, that's all."
 I paused thinking was there any control in the pattern of mine existence,
 but could find no clue as to its whereabouts,  and I gently shrugged.
"Then you'll just have to  weight like the rest of the troop." he said.

 East of the   Eden and West of the Sun,  that was my task it seemed,
  in a barroom,  which was left for souls not having a place in this world,
 but to dance to  modeling delight as  it seemed as if
 readers turned the pages over what was read.

Reader was held hostage by Beethoven on Beethoven,
 and it seemed as if he was in by the look of things.
 one man read Raymond   chandlers book,  though he seemed like Daschle  Hammett,
 and now to think of it the other man at his table,  was reading the Maltese Falcon.

All the riffraff of the room conjoined in this one place,
 a den of  iniquity concentrating on authors, composer,
 and the rest of assorted riffraff  in one place.
 then over in one corner I saw a book by  Ackerman.

There were two books on the pile, one proclaiming "Foundations"
 and the other "Transformations",  while he was writing a third book
 who  title in its frigidity I could not discover,
 and then I reached into my mind and discovered the name Bruce.

And then it hit me that he was still very much alive,
 as alive as a preamble bush,  as a life as an Orchard ticket,
 alive to be free,  which meant that dead was not where I thought it was,
 but alive or dead,  which was it,  or was  it some state in between?

I missed was the clock until it was six,
 and out came Qian Zhongshu,  who was confessing of surplusage
 and ordering drinks for everyone,  until decorously was everyone served.
 and then he went back to the bar to get everyone  lubricated.

"You can see that the place runs well for those who drink it."
 quickly commenting on the situation  announce the piano player.
 there was something about the piano player,  adulteress in the eye,
 but I could not place where he was from.

Then I looked over to see "Washingtonian"  on his name,
 and then I realized he would become  a person, of some note.

Saturday, February 28, 2015

Agonist: Mandrin seekers use more of the Brain according to one survey

Canto 32 - A whistle stop campaign

Canto 32

"A whistle stop campaign"

 Rush of steam boils out of the plate
 and makes noon all of the new  egressive,
 that exploding like that exploits all who wander past,
 and engage in an asexual reproductive cell.

Is steaming cups peaked in fruition,
 to join in fact a  pique  whirligig
 upon a  harangue  etiquette that mediates
 upon a single node,  which is a crooked line.

Splendor of splendoring,  he looked back and forth
 to see what other passengers alighted from the train.
 mostly they were old men,  and a few young ones,
 only one group of rather tawdry women were among.

Mischief making he could see at a glance,
 while there clothes  looked petite,
 they were embroidered with wastage and want,
 not the same thing as Bloomsbury commands.

Amidst  the  clinging,  clawing cadavers notions,
 was a gentleman,  like the others in gray and black,
 who was fiddling with  ardor and abandon
 with a musical toy of his own devising.

Wafts  of steam inverted everything,
meaning that everything was stamped in  effulgence.
The  odious  not verdant flow of  poison thorns
 which quick  as you spray from view.

No winds would take you is from the calm,
 the moon and all the stars seem hung
 not as if the fixed to distant sky.
 the air is rich with moisture,

Movement  made every there by
 it is August, and these regions without,
 summer, autumn, winter, spring - there are
 only seasons of wind -  become trade storms.

"Are you of the Raj, British Indian the Regime
like The New Regime by Isser Woloch
Gave Order in 1789-1820s, in France
wrought  by undeniable  blood of that past."

The elder gentleman regaled me with a flourish.
"The  opportunities of Mr. Disraeli are to my liking,
 I have never been hurt of his Indian adventure.
 allow me to introduce myself,  I am the  quavering dissomatic."

"What is your name, good sir, what may I ask your name?"
 a guffaw came out of juicy  lips and formed:
"Yes,  my name is Darwin,  and I was playing
 with a form most perpendicular,  and translucent."

Now everyone has heard of Darwin,  and people
 do not realize that there is a fight between ultra-Darwins
 and mere Darwinian think there is more to Darwin then Darwin.
As Darwin is so Woese does.  but most people have not heard of Woese.

 I was shocked by meeting Darwin,  as Darwin is Darwin does,
 and more so because I thought he was dead,
 and then I chanced to know something about myself,
 that wretchedness aside,  I was in living,  death.

 And that all that I thought I saw
 were signs that I was in some sense  feigning
 a living death,   since I came in to this slaughtered land
 that somehow I had been marked as distrustful to the slaughter.

So I took my chances and be led it known:
" I thought you were a phantasm of my imagination,
 and I thought as one who is dead."
 he replied: "Of course I'm dead,  aren't you?"

His peace was innocent of every guile,
 be nine and just in feature and expression,
 though only Dante through Ciardi could say that in just the same.

"No",  I rasp,  "I did not know that I had mortalized."
"It happens to us in very many ways,  all of life
 divides in to 3,  before we are born,  life,  and afterlife."

This division of life confronted me with a parody,
 because life is all too fleeting a grip on reality
 and then it is soon to be gone,  as a dream,  and nothing more.

 Then the gentleman waved ado,  as if nothing had been exchanged.
"Good by my good man hence,  look me up at the  discontinuity,
 and we shall have some tea and scones."

 And with that he retired,  and left me  to  fend  for myself
 where men are men:  and all is for not.

Friday, February 27, 2015

(Databases) machines that count

A new poem from Ishmael

Canto 31

The  Castle ( or is it a Palace?)

Canto 31

A very ordinary man typed a very ordinary view
 to a distant friend named Don DeLillo
 explaining how this very ordinary trip
 was the sulfation of his life,  so far,  as he knew.

He looked out the window of the very ordinary train
 at the very ordinary plants,  especially one
 which bloomed yellowish blooms,  each one ordinary
 in such  profusion and delight,  as to be extraordinary.

He was hypnotized by its  splendor,
 and seemed to think what a wonder it was.
 blooms scattered on to blooms
 in ever  Myriad that it was copacetic in nature.

As I said,  he was an ordinary man,
 thought he was on a very ordinary trip.
 little did he know this was not the case,
 and disturbingly it would creep up.

It would creep up that untempered gold
 untampering with  indisputably granted fact
 eruption momentary though it was,
 lamentable though it was,  a true and obvious fact.

Thus,  he sighed,  because in the back of his mind,
 though he may mistrust the mind of man,
 wanting all  proud ambition,  he knew that
 it was a succession to the inheritance
 that was calling his presence,  and would would mean

No, it must, through all prevarications and lies,
 that the story he was told,  was a transference,
 to involve in some other scheme,
 and their first site was a star.

But he brooded on this accidentally,
 trying to breathlessly form a more voluntary
 banishment of the eye,  so as not to come to this
 peace be upon peace,  or what it will.

But restless was and retraced discontinued
 was his nature stilling at your command,
 his eyes were such by trees that had come in to being,
 and  new that he was going down into the valley.

He thought he was like Lyndon Johnson,
 all gruff and he here as a master of the Senate
 whipping and routing  with the means of ascent
 till at last he would stand at the passage of power.

You that that was truly not the case
 but a poor vagabond rending  with vestment
 over his  shattering beams  asundered,
 with a quaking  detachment that was unnerving.

Thinking about Amartya Sen  and how he wrote
 of the  unintended consequences that economic policy
writ on  the history of the world,
 and we who try to decipher  a recapitulation.

It was metadata,  applied upon meditate  Joseph Stiglitz,
 and Noam  Chomsky was his name,  in better fights,
 for the application of what  data really  meant -
 he was a philosopher,  or so he thought,  in his day.

A myriad track through Kuhn  unconvinced him
 with his  Classics in Game Theory,
 that that would not be the case,  pronounce  irrepressibly
 born my and bred  mine,  it was not to be.

Eclipsed outside the window,  and saw the thickening
 of trees,  because now they were truly  lackadamition,
 and the trees were conifer not deciduous.
 how truly dense they were in the round.

Then have of the corner of his eye,  he saw the tower,
 of the castle,  strutting outwards over all it possessed.
 it was not medieval in torque and kind,
 but Baroque leaping from point to point.

It was a scene out of Gödel Escher and Bach
 with each of three managing to draw intricacies
 which were not meant for any eye to see
 presumed by the archenemy, to  declares repugnant  to vision.

He fixed his gaze at the tower,  realizing that have was  medieval,
 and have was   Baroque,  depending on which time of day it was.
 he could not decide whether that was intentional,
 or just an illusion brought  quickly to the floor.

He wondered what was inside the house,
 how many wonders could fix the naked eye,
  unmitigated  though they might be,
 voluminous though they are,  but with a vision.

If  he knew then,  what he knows now,
 he still would be completely befuddled and his nature.

I am getting started on the fourth Canto

 I knew most of you out there do not care,  but so it is.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Bad News from Cyprus


Doubt discussed -
The distant in its logic as decision
 towards divinity denied
 that no in the day or night
"All planets revolve in the ellipse,
 with son had one  focus."
 faith finds solace then
 in God the geometer -
 in the shape even if
 Unexplicable  the shaper.

A disturbing picture...

Canto 2Z - Wallace Stevens


He pauses, and then begins again,
rushing for the present and but a line through it
as it to say that there is a pause,
that he stops over a moment thus to pre-consider
is if there is something in that moment some
that he wishes us to reflect upon
before the moment captures thus
and then perchance to dream
to sleep.


If it stops and joins within
this time that was never was
realize it was most ascended
when every hour had stopped.

It paused as if it would
crinkling over every pass
without a pause to anoint each victory
because what is victory without a cynosure,
a pause he was death by trying
to ease a bit around the edges.


A delightful felicitous eve
Herr Doktor, and that is enough
though Amie would be better
it sounds more felicitous.

Though Aix on Stockholm was bitter breath
of vibrancy that would not make principally
this way and that

because each syllable that was created
in sound and stand of to be misled
transparently connected

to whatever sound it has
to whatever sound it accomplishes
a grotto in the mist,
stands quietly as a Cyclops
estranged by tender godolphin,
its brightness burned the way good solace
adorned with generations
the mast of thousand pardons to us all,

Farewell to an idea, a cabin stands
forlorn and forgotten reminding
all of us to return
a mothers face
the purpose of the poem fills the room
and they wait for dinner brunch and other things
less to be forgotten


A geranium withers on the window sill
and I have not gotten that a transformation
stands alone into the darkness,
etching every miraculous multiplex
the essential complex of the poem,
a compositional inerrant order
that yet alone seeths with anger
that an altitude here restored
a meditation of a principal.
A beneficiary, a repose but most propose.


In space and the self that touched them
formation microsize, as is its want
a deliberation which composed of death
is the same principle of shither-shade
that reveals and reviles the pragmatist burned
and tell its dust.

The pensive man sees that Eagle flood,
for which the intricate Alps our a single nest.


Book around brand name brand bird as you rise to fly
think away grounds of zither quailing
attend not.

This is where the serpent lives, the botanists
his head is air beneath that tip that night
eyes open and fixed upon every sky

or is this another wriggling out of the egg
another imagine at the end of the cave
under the bodiless for the bodies slough?

This is the form golfing after formlessness,
appoints a man in music, say, today,
which the priests desires. Which the philosopher desires.

And all it is madness muses grow mad
with monastic man myosotis
being for vernal and stale of moonlight, amidst shabby sleep.

A primitive like orb, the cuckoo's flaw dewily
the arias that lords asunder along this clandestine,

he ultimate elegance the imagine lands.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Canto 29 - Qian Zhongshu



To a smile  discovered,  and  line that was untrue,
 from a mission  that was misspoken,  to an error that was blue,
 from a place that was  ungovernable,  to a land that was clear,
 it was a place it was a time that clearly had been misspoken
 and buying misspoken it was true.

 I am famous for a trifle,   the creamy center
 from a warm summer night,  which has as its center,
 a quipe  from Francais  about
how everyone who was in  wanted out,
 and everyone who was out wanted in.
 though it was talking about marriage,
 anything would do.

 Their are three parts,  a ship,  a train,  and then
 dissolution as everyone knew that he hadn't really
 gotten a degree in France or the United Kingdom.
 Fortress Besieged indeed!

 Over the Red Sea,  and under the Indian Ocean,
 from the last 10 day period of the month,
 it seems like a terrible year in a cabin under the deck
 he went in to exile with the Jews and the Indians,
 as if to play cards and to chase after women,
 though the Hong Kong women had departed,
 and they were the best,  because even the fiancés
 had a sort of hither to expression.

 But hometown  was the best to managing  a mate,
  but you had to get her away from the manager,
 and speak to her of love,  saying you'd called off your engagement,
 because of the father in law,
 you'd expressed condolences and sympathy,
 as any good son in law would,
 pretending you studied philosophy and foreign currency
 because in that time Europe was a strange place,
 and London was the place to go,
 but Paris and Berlin,  by degrees, attracted
 foreign investment  studying with high sending
 but nonsensical Carlton investment schemes
 that thought by correspondence. it was a diaspora
 by any other name.

 The man who was supposedly the hero
 looked  sharp in his garb.
 he was intimate and clever
 but unconventional in lifestyle,
 and pretending that he was cold,
 since he left Saigon pretending to be a relative
 of the girl,
 though he sounded have footsteps in the night
 to calm her suspicions.

 He offered to use a franc,
 to Palm her hairpin,  it was the style  in France,
 and she was deceived,  while behind her back
 he noticed she was dressed up,
 and he wanted to accompany her.

 It didn't mean anything that Hitler was in power,
 he didn't matter that Vietnam was under the old name,
 the Qing  Dynasty had fallen,
 though it's manners had been set,
 because they were not formally married,
 and they said that they were informerly married,
 by which they meant they were screwing each other.

 And what else is there to marriage?'


 Came down to the clock
 chiming away the minutes and seconds
 until there was no woman
 to catch his fancy.
 just chiming and  rhyming
 of the clock.
 chime chime chime
 13 times

Monday, February 23, 2015

Shaula Evan: the sci-fi and fantasy diversity Gap

Canto 2X - Laura (Petrarch)


 to Pandulfo Malatesta,  Lord of Rimini

Lo Aspect of virto,  which in you flowered
 when love commenced  daring battle,
 produces more fruit which flowed assured
 with which my hope  papered arrives.

-                             one chart assembled
 because of the sound of vivid names impassible
 which in part seems intangible

 credit Caesar or Marcellu
 or Paulus  or Africus   fashioned -
 including games or  martial games

Pandulfo  mind such hopeless is frail
 not long  to endore,  maligned  studio is source,
 which fine paper famed gives humans immortality.


Vicious  Hannibal!  but separate use  potted
 benefit of victories adventure
 therefore, signore mio,  carry

Ursa,  rapid  for Orsini  which were slain,
 who in trouble may gain acerbic pastor,
Rode sedentro,  her Don and  hunger endure
 for vindication screams he soprano noise

 meanwhile he knew dolor  like dimemed L'accora
 to not repost with honored blade
 and so sequite  seek  like Dove chase

 newer fortune:  direct and straight
 that virtu  dares even double death a new
 and mile  after mile at more to honor and to fame.


Alas,  being sought by undying predator
 denying in turn every human  pardon
 and rabidly makes us abandon
 the world and pics are time to  fame.

 every moment languished passing comes merciless
 oratv that ultimate day in my core thunders
 such iniquity,  love never means not sparing me
 how which usual tribute open eyes now shades.

 so come days,  come moments and hours,
  that portend going years never received again
 means force  assailing  more great than arts magical.

 lost viciousness and reason combat again
 seven and seven anniversaries either may lose,
 should signs that guide dane to presage.


 Caesar, when Ptolomy,  that trader Egyptian.
 lifted boldly an  on honour  head,
 concerned all gratitude manifest and
 pain played with faking eyes as chronilis  enscribed.

 And Hannibal when  Imperious affliction of
 vindictive fortune molested
 rise from lamenting gentles and made to
 put forth a fog of laughter, shredding acerbic despition.

 At cause every soul obscures,
 such passions should contain mantle
 reciprocal as vista blunt.

 Therefore all  I volta,  I ride,  I sing,
 forgive me because I know without question,
 I celebrate my anguished pain.


 which demonstrates on Sun to view
 which at her pleasure,  and the alternate  at noon,
 and windows that there frigid sounds,
 the brief days which Boreas fines  it.

 and on the stem over there pensively seeded.
 Madonna sustains and seeks reason
 with what lovely ...


 Laura celestial, which calls verdant  laurel.
 spiring,  when love fired flanking Apollo
 and on me possesses a sweet gamely collar
 that my liberty card early  restores.

 Medusa when to flint  the was transformed
 the sun surpassed not  Amber and all auric.

 Demitasse of locke of blended and crisp lash,
 which sauve legate  my heart strings
 allows which humility and no alternation arms.

 hombre shade strikes my core to glacier
 and blanches panic to my visage tinged
 but given her eyes the power to make it marble.


 Laura soft beneath son spreads and vibrates
 all or which love manually filled and try.


 my benign fortune and light,
 tranquil nights
 solved such aspirations and style
 which should resonate in verse and rhyme.
 suddenly turn to be and pining
 odious and mortalibe
 crude acerbic inexorable mortality,



 Laura which bear the plural and all auric hair
 softly but as suspicion moving
 animates away.


 Laura my sacred my  stains repose
 yet  suspiration  is ardent.


 specialists desire its wings spread
 and goes lately


 so lavished is my need desire
 it flees
 and lashes my
which  loves persuasive nature hits rested

 he remains my signature and Lord
      which death transports
  solely the Laurel and is captured
 acerbic fruit which pains
 gusto afflects  and conference

         sits under verdant Laurels
 viewed more bleached and more frigid than snow

           belle visage  and curls
 makes it can see such to die on with my orbs
 and ever shall hold should be on pond or river

 which finds verdance  not remaining  on Laurels
 when having quiet core remains on my orbs
           attendance annual

 maybe the time and  fleeing


 no sooner Paramore of Diana  piqued
 when perchance he ventured nude,
 he viewed her in the midst of glacial waters

 such  the perfection and
 post a veil and as lovely as a will
 called Laura like the wind hit from blonde From chill

 that she made me, eager as ardent sky,
 turning trembling with amorous gail


Erin heard here of Or,  and aura spiritual
 which miles of sweet knots glowing as
 a vision luminous measurementless,  ardent
 than well gilded eyelashes when measured scarce.

 a vision of  pity's color formed.
 by no not to or falsely, appending
 so escalated and amorousity  in my chest,
 what mall is it that I,  combusted as my arson?

 nor era land made such casing mordant
 but in angelic forms and they so perfectly
 sound she issues more pure than boys of humans.

 a spirit celestial,  a vibrant sun,
 which I viewed as forms a mended
 paying as  unrelenting as arc of an  arrow.


 go now on gentle traded floors
 which barely note the passing of thine the
 even though there missed,  even though they rise in aching

 Solomon is not your silence
 instead on a shining mirth


 oh Ardent virtu  ornate and scalding
 ah gentle who
  oh so about
 tower  planted valorous  of []
 low flame oh Rose Spurs on such suite full
 of vivid snow in which
 a pleasure on visage  I go
 to the your name if rhymes in tense
 find such languages Thule and Batto.

 the Don  and the Nile, Atlantic Olympus and Calliope
 which a pending parts and more surrendering  Alps.


 no cause belle  as sun's gay leaving
 as when celetia
 new view  celestial are
 open ear in colors touched various

 in quality of flaming transformation
 now pressing has  amours   incarnations.


 what ever animal abides on earth
 seated under  recordint Laura
 whatever animal upon on earth

 seeded valor burden or a these


Real Nature Angelic intellect
     prompt visions
 president to the  velocity
 and dignity

 send the lady
 to adorn the festival and perfection


 should principle respond to finish and middle
 of this 14th year of his suspirations
 such increases sent by my ardent desire
 Amore with me that governs,
 for death oppresses as the vibrant soujour flees.


 love with promises alluring
 the recounted me to the prison antique
 and the air gave  the key to my nemesis
 such again from  myself I am  banished

 now however avid alas
 fall in their force a great frantic[]
 when you see my color accordingly
 say: " should I ...."


" eyes pine  accompanying the core"
 which fell mortally sustained
             and not converse
 and alternate error
 prime entrance of love.


 and shall love day in and day out
 sweet location when planning returns -  love.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

A New Poem From Ismael

Unforgettable Fire A8

-When the arrived at Siamak’s house, the found some shattered jars in the street and there was a terrible racket going on, Navid flagged down a messenger and sent him after Samir, meanwhile they knocked on the door, a tearful older wife looked out at them and closed the portal again, but would not open the door itself. They waited, there was more calling. They knew at some point the watch would be summoned, and then there would be trouble, the badly mauled old guard of the town was looking for such an indiscretion, Navid waited for the sounds to start up again, knocked, this time holding up a gold coin to the portal. This time the servant answered and opened the door. Before the old wife could do anything, they had slipped inside.

There they saw the lower level room in a frightful mess, with shattered ceramic and porcelain everywhere. The older wife was screaming at the younger wife, and both were cleaning the floor, while the two handmaids were busy washing blood out of bedsheets. Nothing large was broken. Navid made a semicircular gesture with his hands as a way of asking “where is he?” and the handmaid – who he knew to have been trained in the “silent speech” pointed upstairs.

They mounted the spiral stairs, and when the reached the bed room the sight that greeted them as Siamak, viciously slashing his papers, his normally well groomed hair in a terrible tangle. There was the distinct reek of coupling in the air, and he, himself, was naked and stank of sweat. His lean muscles were stretched tight, at first he did not notice them.

Stay away!” It was a voice that, if it were not rabidly close to a shriek might have been commanding, once. “You’ve come to ruin me! I can tell! With your foul spells and evil designs. Get out.”

Navid deflected away a weakly thrown ball of paper. “We come in peace, please be calm brother Siamak.”

You are,” and at this point he ripped apart a book with a madman’s strength “taking everything away from me! When I began here there was nothing! Nothing!” He stomped on some papers and was looking around the room, though for what they did not know.

They tortured me, they branded me.” Malakeh’s eyes searched his skin and saw a pentacle brand on his left buttock.

And now you want to take everything away from me!” He stopped stomping, and turned to face them, his eyes blazing. It was at this moment that he clutched at his heart, and stiffened, in an instant, he crumpled to the ground, and was gasping for air. Navid did not know medicine, they called down, it was a few more minutes before Samir arrives, who immediately pulled out some foul smelling liquid, and this seemed to resucitate Siamak for a moment. But only just, soon he was struggling again, and Samir and Navid managed to get him to the bed. He convulsed again, and then lay still, breathing only with the shallowest of breaths. It was all they could do to call a doctor, and then wait.

Siamak would hover near death for three days.


Late in the afternoon of the second day after Siamak was stricken, a rich lusterous afternoon, where light was deflected off of the late day haze, that no sea breeze had cleared away, a lazy, indeed hot afternoon, Navid was arrested, and taken to the gaol. The place for those accused of religious crimes, where such ancient rites and customs as had under the secular government were not recognized. It was a sign that the authorities were going to try and crack down.

It was nearing sunset that Malakeh received this news, she was on her west balcony, the shadow of the next building having reached the top of her table. She was discussing what to be done next with Ali and Bashir, when the messenger came, dropped off the note and departed. She read it quickly and handed it, by two fingers to Bashir, whose face reached a more somber tone. Ali then read it and looked at it in puzzlement.

It says the charge is adultery, but it does not say who, merely a ‘protected person’”.
Bashir: “That means a member of the government.”

With whom he is frequently seen.”

Malakeh, “It means me. I must go to see his wife immediately. I can’t let her be alone and have her wondering.”

With this she she dismissed them, and got her self ready to go out. She stopped by Siamak's house, and stroked his cheek and damped a cloth and wiped clean the forehead, and then left to Navid's house.

It was after dusk when she was on the balcony of Navid’s wife, she had just gotten there when the evening meteor shower began. The rain of them grew stronger and stronger, it was, in fact, the peak down of this shower, marked on the calendar as “al-Adara”, for its pure white streaks. There were, by this point a dozen each minute, she sat at the table across from Haifa, Navid’s wife, the two were engaging in that sort of close conversation that two women who have known each other for a long time. It turned out that Haifa had not the slightest doubts about Navid’s faithfulness, and as well she should not, slender and lovely, with bright eyes, a man would have to be a fool not to remain loyal to her. And Navid was not a fool. She was not worried, but instead glowed with faith that her husband would find some way through. She was to visit him tomorrow, and had already bribed the guards to treat him well. Navid’s personal forturn, thought Malakeh, gave her a certain freedom of action that was to be envied, and which Malakeh had only recently begun to feel herself.

They stayed and watched as the shower died down, trailing off into the night. Having mostly slept the night before, Malakeh had intended to stay away all of this night, and sleep only enough to be ready for the next day’s gathering at the mosque which Bashir was in charge of, it was a  preparatory meeting for the send off, where she would walk out of town to the port on the southern side of the peninsula, Al-Quareshi’s sister city as it were, on the Ocean Haram. She would walk that old road, with, what was hoped, would be a growing band. Mosques were told to send people, and the idea of Ali was to have them throw flower petals, since there would be a festival of roses two days before, and therefore there would be rose petals in abundance. It was an image that pleased her.

She talked about this with Haifa, and was pleased at the warm response, it was at this point there was heavy pounding on the door below. The leaned over the balcony – one slender almost willowy woman, and one shorter, but fuller one, and tried to see what was going on, all that they saw was a group of men, probably armed, all wearing some dark coloured clothing. It was hard to tell what in this light. But it was clear that their intentions were not friendly. Haifa almost instantly began calling out “Thief! Thief! Thief!” And there were heads popping from the windows up and down the street.

A rough voice cried back: “We are here to arrest you Haifa Shaheen! You conspired with your husbad to prostitute young girls and boys! We have witnesses who will swear to it.”

Haifa was never one to let an accusation go uncontested. And in a surprisingly loud voice for such a slender woman, she let forth a high pitched and equally rough rejoinder.

Lies, lies, lies. You were sent by the prince of lies.”

The voice below came back. “You will regret that, to which we now add blasphemy against the Talibeen.” This was the once unspoken word for the religious police, now openly spoken in the last few days only.

There was more bashing against the door. Haifa motioned quietly to Malakeh and lead her by the hand to the main upstairs room, and then not, as Malakeh had expected, up to the roof tops to try and make an escape, but to a panel on the wall, which turned after she unlocked it, and down a very narrow set of stone steps. Haifa went down first, and Malakeh followed, closing the door and hearing the click of the latch. It was at this point that Malakeh realized she had not seen any servants, nor either of their two sons in her visit. Clearly, this turn of events, if not expected, was at least prepared for.

The reached down into the dark, and there was an increasingly dank odor of water. What was not present was the almost universal garlic smell of Ishtar. Finally the reached a slipperly landing, where there was both a coolness and a dampness that suggested they were in one of the under canals of Al-Quareshi.

What now?”

We get in the small boat and let the current take us out.” At this point something happened which shocked Malakeh: Haifa lit something, and then a moment later had lit a latern, whose cool yellow and blue light made visibility possible. Open fire is Herron, forbidden, without special rites.

It is safe down here. But we will have to put it out before we go far.”

Malakeh spent a few moments to look, She was in a hemispherical tunnel, whose ancient stones fit together with great precision. She then noticed, under the algae, that there were pictures and designs, made of small tiles of ceramic, in a style which was clearly not from the faithful. Indeed, it was not of the Vedic kingdom, nor even of the Latin or Hellenic people, since these tiles were hexagons, and not squares, and they were not of the realism of the Hellenes, instead the shapes were fantastical, with winged griffons, women with animal heads copulating with men that were grotesques of man and beast. There were suggestions of waves, as long serpent like creatures, she had heard them called “wharls” with human heads wrapped their long bodies around women who were swimming, and whose tails suggestively poked between the loins of their victims. It was, in all, a shocking display. It was also clear that these designs were very, very, very old, from long before, when people worshiped older gods that represented the old angry forces of the world.

She shuddered from the cold as well as the images. Up above it must be near midnight, with half the city still awake, even in the darkness. Below, hear, she felt something stirring, but it must be imagination. Haifa extinguished the light, and Malakeh was grateful to be relieved of the images, though now they were in her imagination, and she thought she saw curling shapes in the darkness. Haifa used a pole to keep them in the middle, and indeed the current was soon pushing them along. The time below stretched out, as she almost felt sands of time slipping one by one away. Until finally there was a gloom of light ahead. It grew larger, and larger and larger. Malakeh finally breathed in great relief, when above was sky and star again, and the dome of heavan, whose blue illumination seemed almost unbearable bright after the darkness of the tunnel.

Haifa turned to her, the words seeming ghostly from a presence with barely visible features: “You must flee the city come dawn.”.

Malakeh, “But should I not stay, after all, I am one of the few protected people.”

No, you must make the Hajj, so that they cannot stop you from taking your seat.”

But I did long ago.”

They will interpret the rules to mean the Hajj, since your election. Navid received word that they were moving troops to the shrine, he thinks to occupy it.”

Malakeh thought carefully, she did not want to go, her position as a member of the Hajj was invaluable, but she also realized that if the religious court had been corrupted, then they would argue that she since she had not taken the pilgrimage since elected, she was not yet truly a member.

Very well, but we must also get the other members.”

Why not go separately.”

They will capture us alone, where as, I think, being bullies, they will not attack the group of us.”

It was at this point that wolf’s tail – the graying – began in the east. Clearly it was far later than she had imagined, the entire night had passed. Surely their conversation had not lasted so long, or perhaps it had, they had talked about a great deal, children, Malakeh's two lost sons, who had died in the wars in the south, and a third son, who was now fighting there. Yes, it had been a long conversation. It could be dawn.

But then she realized it was not. It was light from fire. The were leaving the canal and reaching the edge of the bay, and now she could see that the harbor was on fire, that what she had taken to be graying in the East, was glowing from fire. It now emitted more and more smoke, and was growing in both intensity and malevolence.

She took her eyes off of it, and she saw behind them a wider boat, with oars, sturdier than their canal skiff. She pointed to it, and Haifa took several moments to turn and look at it, she had been transfixed by the growing fire. Aboard this boat were two men, one rowing, the other half standing. The first was Navid, somehow one could tell even from the back in the reflected light, pulling at the oars, she realized why, he always wore silk, and the reflection of the light shined off of it in a peculiar way that was almost a gloss. The second was cloaked in a dark hooded robe that obscured any features. The boat approached, and Hiafa pushed the poll down into the canal bottom to stop their skiff.

When the two boats glided together, the hooded figure and Navid both secured the two. The first moment after standing he was greeted with a warm embrace by Haifa, and oblivious to all else they hung in that pose for a moment, and then he stepped into the skiff, it wobbled ever so slightly. Navid turned to Malakeh and with that smoothest of voices. “You should go in the boat, we are going back to deal with the chaos in the city. It is no place for queens at this particular moment.”

She did so, settled on the front end of the boat, and looked back at the figure, who settled himself between the oars. The two boats separated, drifted apart, she touched her forehead and bade the peace of God on Navid and Haifa, who were pulling away as he began to poll back to the canal. She could see that bubble forming around them, as they looked only at each other and began to converse.

The robbed figure pulled back his hood, and there she saw the particular features of Siamak Adarpadyavand. But there was a calmness on them that she had not often see.

The Peace of the God be upon you.”

She reflexively answered, “And his blessings with you.” A pause. “But I thought you were dead.”

I have passed through death. But you must listen. We were betrayed, by who I do not know. I have sent out warnings in your name to all, and rescued Navid.”

I know who it was who betrayed us. It was Samir. The adultery charge was what gave it away. Bashir, if he were of a mind to betray us, would not have also played such a card, but would have simply and directly charged us with treason. He believes in the old laws. It was Samir, I am sure of it.”

You are probably correct, I have much, yet, to relearn. Though Siamak left behind much. Your former husband is also arrested, but he is broken when we found him, and is of them now, certainly beyond my poor power to add or detract from his suffering or his turn of mind.”

Relearn? Left behind?” The addressing in third person was also disturbing.

He was poisoned, and drank what is called the water of forgetfulness. It drove him made, boiling up the anger and jealousy within him. He collapsed and was as near death.”
But the poison did not work. He lived, you live.”

It did work, it drove his soul from his body, and for three days his body lay there, waiting.”

"How did they give it to him?"

"He bought it as a love potion, the first half he was to take, the second he was to give to you. His was to open his mind to possession, yours would have merely killed you, according to the man who knows such things. It was a foul plot, concocted by someone who could see what was occuring in his mind."

"And you remember this."

"I am as if another person had lived his life, as if, I were a different player to pick up a hand of cards from the person who had been dealt them, and played half of the hand."

"And what happened? What was it like?"

"I remember coming, and seeing this body beneath me, I had spoken with an eternal angel, who pointed me at a silver stair that descended downward. But I had to wrestle with a firy spirit, whose face is long and drawn, redened like hot metal or the ripening berries of the hills. And I placed my hand against his, and he stood like a rock, and I pressed my hand against him, and he failed to move. And then again, and he failed to move, and then again. For those two days I wrestled with him, hour upon hour, and each time he failed to move. I felt myself all but broken. I was broken. But then I realized that that effort had been in vain, I was not here to defeat the devil, but deliver this one life from him, and so, as I wrestled, I reached and plucked but one hair from his head, and as he winced, I passed by him down the stairs, and awoke on the bed, as Siamak, remembering nothing else from before. I lay there for almost a day, until I could move the limbs and establish control over the eyes and breath and all the corners of the mind."

"And you sent Siamak free."

"He was bound in torment, what little of him was left. Yes. The first thing I heard though, was your voice, as you visited the house."

She looked carefully at the features. She had heard stories of possession, she did not know if it was that, or merely Siamak’s way of presenting a conversion, brought on by his experience, to others. She looked hard for some core of belief to hold onto, to know. But there was none.

They continued to slowly and steadily row out, they passed closer and closer to the harbor, and she could see two ships afire, and the warehouses as well. In addition, she saw other small fires had broken out in the town, and the roofs had caught fire and started to burn that black soot.

They must be setting on fire the homes of those that opposed the mayor.”

Siamack did not even glance back. “Fire is their only friend now. They have spiraled down into its embrace.”

So you awoke after three days.”

I came to this body after three days, and mended it. They had meant to open it to one of their own, and instead I came.”

An angel?”

No, I was once another, I do not know who. But I am Siamak Adarpadyavand now, and will be until my soul is separated from this body, and goes beyond to where ever the God has in mind for it.”

She looked at him. “I feel I have done so little, Navid was captured and escaped, you are back from the dead, others have organized, written, thought and spoken. I have done little, or nothing.”

Nothing? Who went to Navid’s wife to reassure her?”

But that is what had to be done, it was nothing.”

He shook his head between strokes. And then stopped rowing, the boot continued to move none the less, she assumed it to be a current.

But only you did it, and a thousand times, when there needed to be a hand to touch, it was yours. I will tell you plainly, if it had not been for your staying with this body, it surely would have been lost. It was your touch which held enough of his soul to fight off the flurry that surrounds us all, that blackens the air beyond the candle flame.”

It is nothing.”

It is the tie that binds, this anointing with touch.”

She listened, she thought, she felt the movement of the boat accelerate, and then looked over her shoulder, there was a large square rigged vessel, of an unusual design, anchored outside of the light of the burning town, she could see it because only in outline and by a dim reflection of the fire. No, that wasn’t true, now it was coming dawn, dawn behind it made the  silhouette stronger with each passing moment.

And so that is what I am, to wander through the world, protected by others, having others do, and not do, in my name?”

You are one of the healers of a sick world. Siamak knew it and resented it.”

His words were stiff, his eyes burned, not in the piercing way of old, but lit by some inner fire. It did not try to overwhelm or beat down.

And what now? What of Ali and the rest.”

Ali and Parvaneh escaped before you did, she knew that something was very wrong, and sensed it was time to take flight. He went with her, his affections now focused on her life above his own. He gave me this, to give to you.” He passed over a small scroll. She took it gingerly, half expecting him to judge her as she took it.

She looked back at the city, with the morning light now making the clouds seem even blacker, because they were more clearly defined in contrast to white buildings and green hills. They poured upward as dye flows downward into water. Or squid’s ink fills an aquarium.

And what now?”

I will do what Siamak should have done before – take defense of the town. You, and the others, must go on the pilgrimage, and then to the Hajj. For what has happened here is happening elsewhere.”

She nodded, it was her duty. And with that her spiritual legs gathered under her, as quickly as a cats do during a fall. She straightened, assumed a different mien. She was being born to a vessel, she had others who worked for her protection, because it was she who bound the parts together. Now it was time to earn this name that had been made for her.

And you?”

I am the Queenmaker, and having helped set you on this throne, I will help in the utmost to keep you there. Because it is what only you can do.”

The boat slowed, without obvious effort on his part, as they approached the ship, and it began to tower over them. The came to a complete stop on a boarding raft, and joined a cluster of other small boats there. She sat, and then stood up, and stepped her way on to the planks that bobbed slightly in the growing waves. Siamak gestured for peace to be upon her, and then turned the boat with his oars, and began pulling away, though far faster than should have been for the speed which he was rowing.

She looked about, and seeing no one here, turned towards the robe stairs that went up at a steep angle along the ship. She boarded up the stairs from the ocean level raft, there, too, were the other Hajj members, she imagined that they were as in shock as they. It was a stranged bedraggled grouping, and she felt pulled out of her cocoon, she had not bathed in some time, nor changed clothes. But then, the feel of sweat stiffened clothes, sandals that had been worn into, wasn’t that what made a pilgrim.

What shocked her is that each of the others did homage to her, and thanked her for notes that she had not had sent, and for a warning given by another in her name. She blinked, and realized that she had been given a gift, one that she would now have to keep up. She took each one in turn and embraced them, and then went with them to the stern of the ship, which rocked as the vessel now weighed anchor.

At first it seemed to gain speed slowly, and then she could see the few small boats left behind, their occupants now rowing south and east, away from the harbor, and to one of the small fishing villages up the coast, gradually losing distinction as people and becoming merely figures. She was transfixed, and she felt bathed by the warm breeze and the salt air seemed to scour her cheeks and run its fingers through her hair. It grew in strength.

The wind from south, from the Ocean Haram, now blew fiercely, as the town disappeared into the West, the fires from the harbor and the normal haze now blow north and out to see. She had never seen the air so clear, nor felt it so clean. She saw the buildings of the city, from minarets to villas on the hills, from the few ships still spired, now out at anchor in the bay, it was all etched with fine and acid clarity, while the background was hidden in the mixture of haze, smoke and soot that billowed black and then was forced away. It seemed a curtain drenched in dirt. The smell of sulfur was gone, and there was a brutal unimpeachable clarity, in this, her last memory for many months, she imagined, of her home and its environs.