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Psychagogue

Memory of words, memory of flesh

The last remnant memory destroys

Ghostly, choral, anachronistic

And so they are always returning to us, the dead

A vertiginous sense that the past has erupted

That the dead are with us

An invisible twin, the reverse of a shadow

Printed on the eye

Stored in the brain

Coded over skin

Transmitted by blood

The lasciviousness of ruin, moving from melancholy to mourning

Continuous motion of the spirit

Mythopathic moment, the ground possessed

Twin obsessions of death and peace

The god now directs four horses, fire-breathing, day by day through the chamber of heaven

Blue of the ether, divine form

“As for my own dreams, the ones I lost would make it through. I should’ve known, some things just follow until they take”*

Twin obsessions of death and peace

* Michael Herr, “Dispatches”