Cantos XIII-XIV by Teg George

Canto XIII


Wisse das Bild


            I have no center

and spend five


trying to figure out how

that could be

            the Prada models

look like mannequins

how do they do that

meanwhile my analyst

            keeps arguing with me

as though I were

disputing the facts

of the universe

or the Dior models’ teeth

that look like steel

like Jaws from Live

            and Let Die

there is a moon

a sun and stars

            how do they do

the Vuitton models’ bosom


“Why do you think they

exist?”              I don’t think

“I don’t believe they made

any sacrifices on your behalf”

the Saks ad shows

            motion so seductively

leopard skin and lace

shadowed by black umbrellas

like celestial bodies that won’t obey

foolish whims set forth

by some god

or Dolce & Gabbana dead in fur

or so like death except for hands

            set to hip

and ear             contra post:

the music of the spheres lies

down on the couch for an extended



Max Mara spread eagled on red

leather with lace-up knee boots

against blue velvet backdrop

Can therapists give up the ghost

            and laugh a little?

“Center yourself on humor”

exposed in melancholia or self


            as Avedon sd/ he held

a negative of his sister on his

skin and sun tanned her

onto his shoulder


“I don’t think self plays a part

in this”

            Mert & Marcus sheen

over skin as fake as Photoshop

can’t massage

            can’t leech the oomph

from Omphallos

(Have you seen the sale

catalog in the lobby?)

            bandits hide under

the Chateau de Vauvert


Wird euch langsam

            namenlos im Munde?


Armani mania grips all

            though her eyes laugh

adoringly at the One on her left

            Diet Tricks of TV Starlets

--buried somewhere in the Garden

of Eternal Faith

            Behold the Stern

Reckless Officious Pronoun:

her Yurman pearls dangle

as a trinity of perfection

three big bangs dabbling

            with a pendant

--I am not one of the master

            race            no center

to me                core values


Kenneth Cole marks the body

out with black drapery

            Cole Haan hangs without

I haven’t got the grist

for the mill            haven’t sunk

to that depth

            Eileen Fisher in chenille

my redwoods are broken

my oak has uprooted

            Ellen Tracy in cashmere

I haven’t lifted a finger

I’ve lost my nostalgic island charm

            Jil Sander in tweed

my analyst sets up the ambush

her musketeers hide

            within her sacred grove

her caviar            my champagne

her pistols            my Fujifilm

waving banners

            my analyst approaches

and the birches give



so nehmen oft Spiegel das heilig

einzige Lächeln der Mädchen in sich


the Thriller episode that terrified

me when I was four

            murderers hiding behind mirrors

within mirrors

the world of murderers

            who see themselves everyday

and fix their hair or shave

or make up

            Audrey Hepburn            “What does

she see?”             Piaget?             Sapphires?

Tiffany windows reflect sharply

            Burmese jade and tiger-eye

and amethyst

compasses watches crumbers

            and unicorn horn

                        polished perfect

                                    cut to cross-sections

to necklace

to mask the blush

rising from chest

to face

Martinis launched

the symphony erect

dazzling crowds

            Lincoln Center



war im Silber-Spiegel und in ihr





Canto XIV


Today, the Air Force would have made him

            'DNIF'Duties Not to Include Flying


Lo, there was great

shimmering as Crispus

parted the sky and sent

packets of foil fluttering

            to Earth


it wasn't the shock

of scooting

            out of the primordial

rather the onset of being

conscious of rebellious mud

between the ears


            out images that likened

to nothing willed or wanted


            Force Interdiction

Electronic Counter-Measures


Neither prophecy nor nightmare

as frightening as unpredictable

thoughts and uncontrolled desires

as though the god were


            mind and soul yet mind and soul

insulting the god could result


terra firma no longer firmer

            much more terror




eliminate competitors from future

generations eliminate environmental

impact statements public comment


not only was one separate

from the god but separate from one



Celebrate Your Heritage


seizures frightened as badly as blank


            Socrates daemon thinking him


eliminate false imprisonment defrocking

statehood eliminate fitness reports early

relief Checotah bare-bones health plans


where the lie belies the truth because one

doesn’t know where the truth lies


eliminate adequate disclosure impromptu

press conferences eliminate accuracy rates

casualty reports photoreconnaissance


de Gaulle sd/ “How can anyone govern

a country that has 246 kinds of cheese?”

and Laval ans/ “I wish for a German victory.”


Do you believe in G-d? in these Christmas

tree ornaments? hand-made in the Holy Land

from Genuine Grade A Olive Wood?

            Do you believe in the Camel

in the Manger? the Candle in the Bell?

the Star in the Womb? the Baby in the Book?

            Do you believe in Baba Yaga?

Zeus? Mithras? Sacred Fire? Do you believe

Silent Night?


Smirnov sd/ “People's actions can in fact be

controlled by unnoticed acoustic influence.”


Will you renounce Satan? Cigars? Vodka?

Erasers? Satin Sheets? Canadian Bacon?

Tofu? Sable? Zymurgy? String Theory?


Methods of latent impact on the human

psyche are no longer secret.


            not SIN but the Ass in me

relinquishing regeneration

restyling as EYE and enveloping

making Crispus less pilot and more mad


more wild quo vadis and less quidditas

more exclamatory and less residual

more love of the new

less love of the bold

less love of the sold

more love of the told fold crowed

even more love of the VT snowed

—get off . . .


That our progress has been regress

from most of our traits—

            a confusion of CONscience caused

through mitochondrial Eve


Jaynes sd/ “A whole kingdom

where each of us reigns

reclusively alone, questioning what we will,

commanding what we can.”


You must be born again—

. . . leave no forwarding address

. . . froward and dyspeptic

. . . colored ribbons folded forward

ag’in and ag’in

            you must be reincarnated


Kurzweil sd/ “We can't just download knowledge.”


We are not kosly,—

                                    we shop at the Gap.


Updike sd/ “Men had no consciousness but were

automatically obeying the voices of gods.”


And why must I deal with any of this?

What god has doomed me to pleasance?

What orchid has bloomed beneath my sphere?

Beneath my realm where I am I?

Show dogma . . .

Show sin . . .

Show riches . . .


Libation Support Database Analyst


time shift

digital data extraction

outpaces analog analysis


therefore digital analysis

becomes more essential


and the more digital analysis

takes precedence the more

differentiation between analog

and digital, ugh!


space shift

spatial area for digital

warehousing diminishes while analog

space increases, i.e. bits shrink

while paper expands

so fewer people look at paper,

lcd, data, entry, size, etc.


Centuries of wrestling with the Angel

give over to twenty years of typing

into the Aether—

            blogging and then not

pages archived and never read

merely absorbed as patterned

experience to be filed

folder after folder of unmitigated


                        people filed

unless they can flee


And Kurzweil sd/ “The crossover point

is around 2030 and non-biological intelligence

will continue its exponential rise.”


No Safety in Numbers


            even DNA tweaked

will make us less than wookies


even our heads shaved and emblazoned

with bar-codes will not be enough


paranoid            yet cliched out of existence

by ultra-swoosh


Pueblo unida jamas sera vencido

unless Newmont is our golden


            and Crispus learned the fable that on Xmas

Eve at Midnight the Dog will speak, “Taxes can

be paid online.”




Cantos I