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face blindness

Megan A. Volpert

BlazeVOX [books]
Buffalo, New York

Face Blindness by Megan A.Volpert Copyright 2007 Published by BlazeVOX [books] All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without the publishers written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews. Printed in the United States of America Book design by Geoffrey Gatza

First Edition

ISBN: 1-934289-25-6 ISBN 13: 978-1-934289-25-9 Library of Congress Control Number: 2006938680

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abstract This is a brief description of the project, which arguably contains research. How will you know? This describes the problem. The problem is poetry. Or poetics, or the poem, or perhaps the poet. Can you tell the difference? This describes how the problem is being addressed. It is addressing me. Or it has an address. The result is this project, which may or may not contain a conclusion. Just kidding. Of course there is a conclusion. Will you set it apart from the other parts? What did I do? Whose hat is this?

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mark of the beast there is in this book summoned by the course of a singular idea the prospect of a given fascinating image in this case a momentary spark in a strange eye symptom of any number of events representing quite a range of emotions reflected in all its troubling exotic facets through a particular movement of poems grafted together into a wheel without spoke other than some faint dream of an author lusting after the possible but unidentified a fetish object is the thing to which we want to give and to witness only the truth sometimes requiring a deeper kind of story never happening but manifested through text until it is resurrected from the imaginary as a new corporeality of passion written in the ashes of the old ones and imbued with a sense of their presence

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love letter to roland barthes there was a girl in the park scarves from her ankles to the bridge of her nose and up over her gorgeous i imagine braids she comes around the corner focused on her feet until my air touches her air and she looks up we are cold and alone and i smile at her the crease in her forehead loosens as her eyebrows pull apart and i am sure she was smiling back at me this is a storytelling plus the suspension of disbelief in the exhaustion of storytelling this is a poem filled with conspiratorial jouissance about the meaninglessness we search for in and through experience and you will not like it but you must engage it at all costs worried as you are about why you do not like it and whether this poem does not like you either it will fail you and that is how it works this is a poem filled with paranoia about spoiled irony and not quite pastiche because it performs through helpless metaphor the never-ending tellability of an unspeakable allegory without foreword or epilogue i dreamt a wrought iron desk floating up out of a furnace from which place the fates had loving furious carved in tiny block print covering the hovering object all my future selves and the course of their damnation but searching for an account of my death i found only my right ankle chained to the leg of the levitated animal and on the cuff that bound me was welded property of an unfamiliar name

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name pong poetry gluten nut oat bean rye pear grape plum prune melon lemon eat gourmet menu plate mug bagel beverage tea vegetable peony tree grove bergamot nutmeg elm tule myrtle log rot terre poultry egret goat bear mare bat boar bug ape eel beluga emu lemur mole pony beagle beaver pet vet pelt mane velum venom vertebra plume elytrum baleen preverbal bray bleat yelp roar yenta nag robe tub pure love marry mate ovum pregnable prom teen preen tan rave pent guy melt urgently bra grope tremble tame gleam lover pot port rum ply purr pearl opal ruby bangle gem revelry opulent velour garb marble getup revue terry auberge men pervert porn role leg pore beg pro motel more rub bare pole bent eagerly orgy pert overt mount rare meat top tap rear toy plug lube tube rug burn bone moan groan erupt lone glue gnome ogle ogre beer pub leer urge lounge lure pry penetrable prey alone bolt bogeyman belt rope gut grovel rape ream tear grunt no able permeable germ tremor lump preventable tumor removable gurney metabole entropy bereave toe tag bag grave or urn man govern group preamble peer venerable valor prove truly brave nerve glory mortar vote goal great year term err retry tenable type ugly paltry envoy rube tyro enabler bore grumpy brat mule peeve ornery peon rat runt energy petrol metro route map money trove rebate per vault yen ton rev retro polymer megabyte rpm venture rerun rent rate lent 14

poverty penury mere meager gruel bengal peru rung plunger gun globe gentry team tee bet buy pay vermont meant mean but may nay net ore game gamble gym ran punt trump early late ever never norm lever gum garble glove tape rely vary veneer betray angle gel peg regnum ruler nap prone veto ban blame embargo overturn volt gore ego envy ploy parry revenge run negro purge oven mangle egypt troy omen angel grey gray pray rue repent revert only pyre nope go get got opt revolt page tone tune plot tome genre tour meter typo poe manet monet note mentor pun lore rune reply pen venue event novel trope lute lyre verbal poem art yoga mat blue green taupe lama are am ergo be ray ear gyre turn gentle gentler verge merge emerge my levy pour empty open very merry meet met unmet glee plenty ample yet amble evenly eve eon upon unto mute long longer leave move let me try gave gone eleven ten one over

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poncho/kimono what mexico has in common with china the sun seems always to prefer rising advantage is in the length of her eyelashes mechanizing bobble wings for wooden butterflies sea in sea out sea in sea glasses a lobsters commodity is not at all about texture what butterfly has in common with lobster the sea seems always to rise preferably eyelashes are the length of her commodity bobble wings mechanizing for wooden mexico sun up sun down sun up sun glasses a texture is not about china at all

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copyright infringement in legend there are two poets at opposite ends of the earth with not dissimilar climates both in a moment of dj vu each takes to symbol-making and the arts of story-telling that their tribes may share in this new-found knowledge despite their disparate points plotted on all that we know of the great grid of space-time and all of what universe means they build beyond any question what is two beauteous copies of exactly the same divine poem and to what tribe shall it belong

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purpose statement for a lecture i write a paper it includes the phrase accident of the real and i am criticized for neglect to cite jean baudrillard for a workshop i write a piece it includes the phrase accident of the real and i am praised for attentive allusion to jean baudrillard in a literature class i discuss myself i am called life-writing theorist in a prose class i discuss myself i am called non-fiction essayist in a poetry class i discuss myself i am called poet our problem with baudrillard in proofing this argument is that it exercises the obvious the trite the redundant the the of an imperative to proper nouns that is both distraction and failure

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prosopagnosia this is the mirror and there is my face i think something uncanny in the hairline to remember however slightly the rings on those fingers touching that face are my possessions those hands are mine and therefore that face is mine reassured it is alright when you will not believe i cannot recognize myself fear in its misstep may call a writer a liar but this is not the case with so many mouths put forward you read something uncanny you think there is my author and this is the book

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phantasmagoria i caught you once across my hall naked against the opposite wall saw my same reflected eyes but something older something wise watched you part thin lips and breathe watched your chest sigh and heave rakish nails and skin so fair brushing away a wisp of hair an instant then i thought was gone shadowy corridor proved me wrong sure slow torture i still stood you slid a foot across the wood i couldnt move and dared not blink you had to stop i had to think seconds flew a minute passed you towered in front of me at last then leaned in closer at my ear i stopped breathing full of fear my lovely dear you said to me do not quiver dont you see thought i could not see at all what was this thing in my hall my lovely dear you read my mind i am the eye you seek to find god i thought it cannot be this thing is not a part of me knows too much it feels too strong no pen it cannot steer to wrong quite carefully you shook your head my lovely child not true you said what is it that this wants from us i wondered fight it thats a must smiled slow your teeth shone white i know you know you cannot fight and paralyzed by fear i knew that every word you spoke was true we cannot fight nor can we beg there are no crosses just our dread this thing the perfect reader she is still the devil inside of me feeds on truths that we ignore and kills us inside evermore and acts against her done in fear feed you more my lovely dear

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palimpsest i dreamt you chained me to your bed and wrote your new novel across my back and i would sweat your purple ink ran down the cleft of my ass vengefully i wrote your book in effigy with an old black ballpoint across the thigh of my lover and it began thus i dreamt you chained me to your bed and wrote your new novel across my back

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xenoglossolalia there are some rooms where for unnamed reasons i have not however casually glanced up at the ceiling walls may hold language i have not yet capacity to speak i find myself how do you say beautiful oh she said english is not your first language well i replied speech is not my first language but because it is so very challenging to love my self in the word i have devoted my life to it louis xiv had cannonballs inscribed ultima ratio regnum the last argument of kings but i prefer square objects like those atop the paris moma chairs where mother and i lunched blanc de poulet dor minute curry et chutney magnue took photos of those beautiful chairs felt like daisy buchanan square objects because more easily they generate round ideas poems do not fly as the crows do this is how i came to understand the value of curvature and the deliberate construction of my self as super hero

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