Ghosts, second wave of revisions

                    Rosabelle
                                                  believe.

Did          you
hear me?

I said, Rosabelle,
          Young men are not allowed to
          laugh during the first cycle, The

          Old          Man          Stories

                                        Bess watched
for any sign
of Harry,
: trumpet, slate,
a floating table,
planchette, a distention

of electromagnetic waves, a disturbance
in persistence of vision, a variation in the
luminance of the raster, a sheeted tumescence
in the pixels, a(n umbra) in
(machinam). The green ghost

of a distant
dead star
the extremely
tenuous oxygen.

Common

coincidental alignments
Thought and Memory          black wings          close the circle,
          and looking lunge          into the world          to pick the carrion of

daily news. One-eye waits anxious lest Memory not return to him

Rosabelle          believe

There was a boy
in Jakarta, a child, pisseding awake the revenants of
an ancient mahogany tree, who appeared to him thusly:
          pocong (′poah·chong) n. ghost of a bound
                    and shrouded corpse seeking release
          kunti: (kün·′tē) n. ghost of a child dead at
                    birth become woman, opens
                    your belly, devours you

on the spirits living in
an
old mahogany tree.
After,
hundreds lined up to befor
possessedion
by
spirits, as they had in Lourdes
or Fatima or Chicago, where
in the Double-Aughts, for the
salt-stain Virgin on the underpass. The
town fathers removed the tree. The spirits
the Virgin appeared as a salt-stain cunt
on the underpass. The town fathers cut
it down, and announced The spirits
have moved to the other
tree but we cannot
cut down all the trees.
” say the town fathers

And so it is.

Rosabelle          believe

Not long ago no land was to be seen.
          Then there was a little thing on the ocean.
This was all open sea.
          And Raven sat upon this.
He said,
          'Become dust.' And

it became Earth.

under the ice sheet the jagged peak, the ghostly slopes, we map the scars of tectonic disruption with radar, magnetometers. They are pristine, preserved from erosion. Swarm into a crack in the ice, see the world at the beginning, see the past preserved

Raven will take you now,
to the dead, to Memory.
You must understand, though,
Raven is a liar, a trickster, and a great shapeshifter.

“These kinds of things cannot be seen
          with normal eyes, especially in the

afternoon. Therefore, people should not Should we therefore disbelieve
          in mysticism.”?

But

Rosabelle?          believe

Upon Cuchulainn's death, the Morrigan
perched on his shoulder in the form

of a raven. He asked no question.
He answered, I shall perish. Read more of.
Read the mouth, (and

still tree-tops against still later
against and under white, they say—

I will try to catalog the ghosts):

you left a crowd of voices, indistinguishable
from the falls, where lovers go
to disappoint themselves, until
we pin the probabilities like moths,
collapse and resolve them with
our attention, into a chorus of demons chanting

one left before you, made of flesh, whose touch I know well, lost years ago, now sticks and slides, merges

one or many, a shadow

you, in a glass, a feather made of smoke, just like touching you. I mean, it goes away from me.

if you are to understand the heart,

You better understand the
chest, the pericardium, the muscle, the skin, the ribs and intercostal spaces,;
the bishop's hat, the two cusps and the three, the lungs, the aorta and pulmonary artery, the vena cava, pleural cavity, bullet trains through the empty city;
the sino-atrial node, the Perkinje fibers,;
the Frank-Starling law (the more you fill, the greater your capacity to empty), the heart,
the muscle, the skin, the translation of each striation or lack thereof
as Raven, a great trickster, a shapeshifter, a liar, containing no secrets

          (All secrets are written on the skeletal muscles, in striations, in movement)

The heart will take you now,
to the dead, to Memory.

Raven, often accompanied by Wolf, loves a war as a banquet
or, wings clipped, alone, locked in the Tower, holds the safety of the kingdom

Go out of you. Live.

After a history of
suicide.

After Depression and then the large apple tree
containing the stumps, husband!

Go out of you. Live.

we descend to night, where there is no law but ghost-ridden sex, cruelty, and metamorphosis.

drought lifts the skirt of Lake Texoma and reveals the graves between its legs. 389 forcibly moved in 1931. It was devastating, They had no choice.

You were here, but I could not find you. Could not hear you or see you, just knew that you were just out of reach, infinitely separated. Fog flowed like spirit bodies, a crowd of the damned bent upon itself to fill a channel, to run like a river in which we swam, or drowned.

In which you, and I, swam, or drowned.

In which you, and then I, swam, or drowned.

“People should remain calm. The National Police have taken action. Thank you.”