Barbie was the original Red Whore, subverting...
the ghost of the Mahdi
stirs in his desert capsule
at Omdurman—such dreams
riding a wild camel
head swinging—excitement (alarm)
calls from the city, telegraph of heartbeat
breath, hollow ground
he is shimmer, spirit, silver mirage
contagion flooding outward
(the air hasn't quickened like this
since Gordon Pasha 1885)
such movement, such pace and fecundity
somewhere a tiny bear
(emblem of bears)
claws the Faithful
by wires of naming and intent
into the vast cleavage
of the West
he heads south, swinging
a rusty sword, feeling blood
beat again
in his dead camel's neck
rivers swelling
clouds massing
the beats stop, the drones
the wild pipes, the music...
silence
(process and plexus/
event and stasis—forces gather briefly along these lines
then quickly vanish)
flies whirl in the shimmer
—nothing, nothing
.
.
.
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