And the reality Between the motion

I can’t sleep tonight
because the bad moon ever.

Because the far dream.

I can’t make a hat
that can hold the lot of us;
it’s hot in here and loud
and cold crystal out in space—
I can’t drift out here,
can’t sleep tonight.

Not with my constellation
of old bones scratching.

Not with all this information hanging off
my chinny chin chin.

Because the wrecks.

Because the silence.

Because the hope and strain.

I can’t make music
up here on the surface.

Not in the craters.

I can’t sleep tonight
because the raucous in the basement.

Because the stretched motives.

Because the abaissement de niveau mental.

Because the far far dream.

I can’t make a footstep in the wrong direction
in doughy spacetime tonight,
only fill up with air
and rattle my pan for jewelry—
I can’t lose the surface tension

I fall to bits

Because the bread is poison

Not as if anything

Not bad moon forever

I can’t tell you
there’s too much to listen
you’d never

I can’t go limp
because gravity and humble
rockdwelling

I love you music hope strain

The right direction has got to be
the only direction

Gravity has got to be for me

Has got to be

Repressed Memory Phenomena

The issue of repressed memory is surprisingly heated, and comes loaded with the weight of several fundamentally different conceptions of the human mind. The real issue, hidden away in the word “repressed,” is whether a memory once repressed can be unleashed, or “recovered.” Thus we find ourselves in the awkward scientific predicament of having, for each paper published presenting evidence of repressed and recovered memories, at least a few papers published expressly to disclaim it. This article will attempt to make some sense of the available literature, drawing in alternative paradigms in addition to empirical studies.

Examples & Evidence

The issue of anecdotal versus experimental evidence becomes extraordinarily important in discussions of recovered memories, as we shall see, primarily because experimentalists have not managed to invent a way to replicate the phenomenon under controlled conditions. This creates a kind of paradigmatic crisis for experimental psychologists, for whom the temptation to discount uncontrollable phenomenon is a normal hazard of the workplace, so to speak. However, we may do well to consider, as Terence McKenna pointed out in an unrelated discussion, the etymology of “anecdote”, which stems from the Greek “anekdota”, meaning “unpublished items.” An anecdote then, can be thought of as a casually observed phenomenon; once that phenomenon is subjected to scrutiny, corroborated, and–specifically–distributed in a peer-reviewed publication, it ceases to be anecdotal evidence by definition and can instead be considered “medical history” (McKenna, 1998)

Probably the best source of this type of medical history of repressed-and-then-recovered memories is Dr. Ross E. Cheit’s Recovered Memory Project, which maintains an internet database of individual cases of recovered memory. “The cases are annotated and all have corroboration, including medical evidence, confessions, multiple victims, or even eyewitness testimony” (Cheit, in press). The database includes cases in three categories: those extracted from legal proceedings, in which the facts surrounding the repressed memories were subjected to extreme scrutiny and were in most cases corroborated; clinical accounts printed in scientific and academic journals; and other cases, drawn from sources such as legal proceedings that were not allowed to continue for various reasons, or from meticulous journalistic investigations.

One excellent example to be found in the Recovered Memory Project’s archive of clinical accounts is the case of “Claudia”, published in the highly respected journal Science News. Claudia had enrolled herself in an intensive inpatient weight-loss program to battle the severe obesity she was suffering from at that time. After losing more than one hundred pounds in the program, she began to experience flashbacks of sexual abuse at the hands of her older brother. While still an inpatient in the weight loss program, Claudia joined a therapy group for incest survivors at the hospital. During meetings, she remembered and revealed to the group that “from the time she was 4 years old to her brother’s enlistment in the Army three years later, he had regularly handcuffed her, burned her with cigarettes, and forced her to submit to a variety of sexual acts” (Bower, 1993). Upon returning home from the hospital, Claudia was able to examine her brother’s old room and belongings, which had remained untouched in the fifteen years since he had died in Vietnam. “Inside a closet she found a large pornography collection, handcuffs, and a diary in which her brother had extensively planned and recorded what he called sexual ‘experiments’ with his sister.” (again, Bower, 1993). Dozens of powerfully corroborated cases like this exist and are referenced within the archive.

There is a great deal of additional published work in which the recovered memory phenomenon is found to be not only very real, but also relatively common. Psychologists conducting a broad survey of British Psychological Society practitioners, for example, found that “memory recovery appears to be a robust and frequent phenomenon” in cases of total amnesia related to childhood sexual abuse as well as cases relating to other types of traumatic events (Andrews et al, 1995). A 1993 survey of 450 adult clinical subjects reporting histories of sexual abuse found that more than half of the subjects could identify a period of life before the age of eighteen when they had possessed no recall of the event (Briere & Conte, 1993). Another study (Feldman-Summers & Pope, 1994) interviewed a national sample of psychologists; of the psychologists from this sample who reported childhood abuse of any kind, about 40% reported a period during which they had forgotten some or all of the abuse. Of these, nearly half reported some form of corroboration for the occurrence of the abuse. Also significant was the finding that age and gender were not related to the occurrence of amnesia, but the severity of abuse was a strongly correlated factor. Finally, a particularly interesting study interviewed women with previously documented histories of sexual abuse, asking detailed questions about each of their abuse histories. “A large proportion of the women (38%) did not recall the abuse that had been reported 17 years earlier” (Williams, 1994).

Objections & Rebuttals

The major objection to reports of recovered memories is the difficulty in distinguishing them from false memories (Reisner, 1996). While this objection is certainly valid, and the potential for inducing false memories is a serious one for the therapist (Ofshe & Watters, 1996; Loftus, 1994), the preponderance of evidence in support of the existence of legitimate instances of repressed-and-then-recovered memory precludes any serious debate as to the general existence of recovered memories as a phenomenon. The recovered memory phenomenon has been sufficiently observed in a naturalistic environment that it is now fair to assume that any shortcomings in the way of controlled modeling or reliable detection of repressed information can be seen as problems of experimental science and therapeutic technique, rather than as invalidations of the existence of the phenomenon itself.

Furthermore, claims that individuals who report recovered memories are more likely to present symptoms of false memory syndrome (FMS) have been found by some studies to be grossly inaccurate. Hovdestat and Kristiansen (1996) found that FMS indicators were much less common in their sample than the hype surrounding FMS would suggest–no more common, in fact, for subjects reporting recovered memory than for those reporting that their memories of traumatic events had been continuous. In “the first direct investigation of suggestibility among patients who report recovered memory,” Rush Medical College’s Frank Leavitt used the Gudjonsson Suggestibility Scale to compare the overall suggestibility of subjects reporting recovered memories of childhood sexual abuse with that of subjects reporting no history of sexual trauma. “Results indicate that patients who recover memories were remarkably less suggestible than the clinical field has been led to believe by advocates of false memory…. Paradoxically, patients without a history of sex abuse were more at risk for altering memory to suggestive prompts” (Leavitt, 1997).

Models & Theories

Neuroscience, unfortunately, has little to offer us in the way of explaining this phenomenon thus far. While it is able to tell us that extraordinarily stressful conditions can lead to malfunctions of the hippocampus which prevent explicit memories of the surrounding events from being stored, and that implicit memory systems remain functional under these conditions, it is unable to explain how an explicit, conscious memory could be derived from an implicit, unconscious-emotional one. It would seem, in fact, that the implicit memories stored under such circumstances lack sufficient detail to reasonably allow for such a reconstruction to take place with any degree of accuracy at a later time (LeDoux, 1996). Therefore, the current research in this area leads us to assume–for the time being–that proper explicit memories are, in fact, being formed during the traumatic episodes in question and then repressed by way of an unknown mechanism. However, the research is incomplete. It is entirely possible that there is indeed enough information stored by emotional systems to reconstruct traumatic events in detail, and that neuroscientists have simply not yet discovered a way to reliably elicit such reconstruction. It is also possible that there are entire yet-unexplored memory systems at work.

The available research and case studies do, however, offer us significant clues as to the structure and function of memory repression. For example, the Feldman-Summers & Pope finding (1994) that personal indicators and demographics are generally unrelated to the occurrence of amnesia for traumatic events, and that this occurrence is instead reliant only on the severity of abuse, seems to support the hippocampal-interference model of memory formation under severe stress, suggesting that perhaps retrieval of and inference from implicit memory–or the storage of such memories in general–may be underestimated. Another study, however, indicates that the duration of the abuse is also a factor in the extent to which memory repression occurs in victims of childhood sexual abuse (Herman & Schatzow, 1987), which would seem to support the opposite hypothesis that explicit memories are in fact being stored (in the early stages of abuse at minimum), and then actively repressed at the psychological level.

Surprisingly, the most widely accepted model for this phenomenon may still be the Freudian one. It does appear that memory repression is a system of self-defense “by which an individual defends himself or herself against the conscious recollection of a traumatic memory and its associated consequences” (Golding, Sanchez, & Sego, 1996). Jennifer Freyd (1994) builds on this model by speculating that “victims may need to remain unaware of the trauma not to reduce suffering but rather to promote survival. Amnesia enables the child to maintain an attachment with a figure vital to survival, development, and thriving.” Individual cases like that of “Claudia”, in which memories were recovered during the course of extreme weight-loss (Bower, 1993), seem to point us in the direction of exploring externalized methods that individuals might use to assist them in this repression, such as abnormal weight gain. These could serve as a kind of emotional red herring, a reason for the emotions to exist without the necessity of remembering the events that actually created them.

Competing theories include the dissociative model, in which the memories are passively excluded from conscious awareness (Smith, 2000), and Philip T. Smith’s jigsaw-puzzle model: He provides a fairly eloquent description in a paper published in Memory in 2000:

According to the jigsaw model, unwanted memories can be rendered inaccessible in two different ways: by assigning a low importance value to their constituent fragments, or if the importance value is not sufficiently within a person’s control, by trying to ensure that few fragments are simultaneously encoded with the fragment to be forgotten. The former process shares features with repression, the latter process shares features with dissociation. What is novel about the jigsaw approach is that repression-like and dissociation-like phenomena could be seen to derive from initial encoding processes: there is no need to invoke active coping strategies in later storage and retrieval (Smith, 2000).

While this theory is compelling, it is clear that a great deal more research–particularly neuropsychological research–will be required to validate any model of memory recovery.

Practical Recovery

Finally, and perhaps most controversially, is the issue of inducing the recovery of lost memories. One study found that short-term group therapy “proved to be a powerful stimulus for recovery of previously repressed traumatic memories” (Herman & Schatzow, 1987), while another found that, in reality, “psychotherapy was the least commonly reported trigger” for such recall (Elliott, 1997). This study reported that most repressed events are actually recalled while watching television. In cases where recovered memories do arise during the course of psychotherapy, it would appear they do so “more typically during periods of positive rather than negative feeling toward the therapist, and they were more likely to be held with confidence by the abuse victim” (Dalenberg, 1996). At the present time, there simply does not appear to be a reliable way to elicit memory recovery, nor does there appear to be a reliable way to discern whether a “recovered” memory has any basis in truth, short of establishing external corroboration (LeDoux, 1996).

Conclusion

While it is clear that memories of traumatic events are in some cases lost or inaccessible for indefinite periods of time and then recovered, it is unclear what underlying neurological or psychological mechanisms might be responsible. A biological basis has been found for traumatic amnesia on its own, but this explanation is unable to account for–and would seem to preclude the possibility of–the potential of recovery. The major psychological models used to account for the phenomenon are repression and dissociation, although neither has much more experimental support than the other. What’s more, psychotherapy seems to be hit-or-miss at best when it comes to recovering lost traumatic memories, and the potential for the creation of false memories is profound. A great deal more research will be necessary, but a great deal more theoretical clarity will be necessary before research in this area is likely to be beneficial.

References

  1. Andrews, Bernice; Morton, John; Bekerian, Debra A.; Brewin, Chris R.; Davis, Graham M.; Mollon, Phil (1995). The recovery of memories in clinical practice: Experiences and beliefs of British Psychological Society practitioners. The Psychologist, 8, 209-214.
  2. Briere, John; Conte, Jon R. (1993). Self-reported amnesia for abuse in adults molested as children. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 6(1), 21-31.
  3. Bower, Bruce (1993). Sudden recall: adult memories of child abuse spark a heated debate. Science News, 144(12), 184-86.
  4. Cheit, R. E. (n.d.). Junk skepticism and recovered memory: A reply to Piper. Retrieved October 15, 2005 from the Recovered Memory Project: http://www.brown.edu/Departments/Taubman_Center/Recovmem/critics.html
  5. Dalenberg, Constance J. (1996). Accuracy, timing and circumstances of disclosure in therapy of recovered and continuous memories of abuse. Journal of Psychiatry & Law, 24(2), 229-275.
  6. Elliott, Diana M. (1997). Traumatic events: Prevalence and delayed recall in the general population. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 65, 811-820.
  7. Feldman-Summers, Shirley; Pope, Kenneth S. (1994). The experience of “forgetting” childhood abuse: A national survey of psychologists. Journal of Consulting & Clinical Psychology, 62(3), 636-639.
  8. Freyd, Jennifer J. (1994). Betrayal trauma: Traumatic amnesia as an adaptive response to childhood abuse. Ethics & Behavior, 4(4), 307-329.
  9. Golding, Jonathan M.; Sanchez, Rebecca Polley; Sego, Sandra A. (1996). Do You Believe in Repressed Memories? Professional Psychology: Research and Practice, 27(5), 07357028.
  10. Herman, Judith L.; Schatzow, Emily (1987). Recovery & verification of memories of childhood sexual trauma. Psychoanalytic Psychology, 4(1), 1-14.
  11. Hovdestad, Wendy E.; Kristiansen, Connie M. (1996). A field study of “false memory syndrome”: Construct validity and incidence. Journal of Psychiatry & Law, 24(2), 299-338.
  12. LeDoux, Joseph E. (1996). The Emotional Brain: the mysterious underpinnings of emotional life. New York: Touchstone.
  13. Leavitt, Frank (1997). False attribution of suggestibility to explain recovered memory of childhood sexual abuse following extended amnesia. Child Abuse & Neglect, 21(3) 265-272.
  14. Loftus, Elizabeth F. (1994). The Repressed Memory Controversy. American Psychologist, 49(5), 443-445.
  15. McKenna, Terence; Sheldrake, Rupert; Abraham, Ralph (June 6, 1998). The Evolutionary Mind: The Sheldrake – McKenna – Abraham Trialogues. University of California, Santa Cruz. (available as audio from http://www.sheldrake.org/realaudio/)
  16. Ofshe, Richard; Watters, Ethan (1998). Making Monsters. Society, 35(2), 364-376.
  17. Reisner, Andrew D. (1996). Repressed memories: True and false. Psychological Record, 46(4), 563-580.
  18. Smith, Philip T. (2000) A jigsaw puzzle theory of memory. Memory, 8(4) 245-264.
  19. Williams, Linda Meyer (1994). Recall of childhood trauma: A prospective study of women’s memories of child sexual abuse. Journal of Consulting & Clinical Psychology, 62(6), 1167-1176.

Jonestown and The Social Psychology of Accepted Truth

Everybody “knows” what happened in Jonestown, Guyana in 1978. At the behest of their charismatic leader, all the members of the Peoples Temple religious cult—the residents of Jonestown—“lined up in a pavilion in front of a vat containing a mixture of Kool-Aid and cyanide” and  “drank willingly of the deadly solution” (Aronson, Wilson, & Akert, 2005, pp.4-5). That citation is taken from a popular Social Psychology textbook, and is a resounding demonstration of the phenomenon that this paper will attempt to explore: you see, the authors of that textbook feel so secure in their knowledge of the events surrounding the deaths in Jonestown that they feel no need to provide a reference for it. It is entered into the student consciousness as common knowledge. The fact that the popularly-accepted truth that Aronson, et al are parroting in this example is plainly false is almost beside the point, although this paper will provide a brief examination of some of the evidence which contradicts that accepted truth. The problem is much broader than the debunking of a single myth, and demands that some very important and difficult questions receive systematic evaluation: how is it that entire populations “know” things that contradict all available evidence, and what can be done to mediate this effect?

In considering the events of Jonestown, we might do well to start out by questioning our own credulity. What do we actually know about Jim Jones and The Peoples Temple, and from what sources? Does our understanding of the events stand up to logical scrutiny? Furthermore, as social psychologists, let us ask ourselves this very important question: In light of our current understanding of the power of social influence, do we believe it is plausible that 900 people took their own lives, simply because they were asked to? If so, are we willing to believe that we would behave in the same manner if subjected to similar social influences? As Aronson, et al (p.14) point out in their discussion of The Peoples Temple, “it is tempting and, in a strange way, comforting to write off the victims as flawed human beings. Doing so gives the rest of us the feeling that it could never happen to us.” The problem is that they use this rationale to imply that people would behave in a way that no empirical evidence has verified. Theirs is an argument from paranoia, having arisen out of its conclusion and stating as truism that which is both counterintuitive and unsupported. The idea here is not merely to pick on the authors of a textbook, but to pinpoint a mindset that is pervasive enough that it remains largely invisible in our society.

As Eileen Barker, the President of the Society for Scientific Study of Religions, has noted, “the belief in irresistible and irreversible mind-control techniques is so widespread that the democratic societies of Western Europe and North America appear to give ‘permission’ to citizens to carry out criminal attacks on someone merely on the grounds that he or she is a member of an unpopular religious group” (1996). Her research, however, does not support this belief. Furthermore, although there is very little research into the matter aside from her own, a small number of academics have taken up careers as “expert witnesses,” providing fervent yet unsubstantiated support to the idea. In the case of Jonestown, that man’s name was Dr. Hardat Sukhdeo. Jim Hougan writes:

Dr. Sukhdeo is, or was then, “an anti-cult activist” whose principal interests (as per an autobiographical note) are “homicide, suicide, and the behavior of animals in electro-magnetic fields.” His arrival in Jonestown on November 27, 1978 came only three weeks after he had been named as a defendant in a controversial “deprogramming” case. It is not entirely surprising, then, that within hours of his arrival in the capital, Dr. Sukhdeo began giving interviews to the press, including the New York Times, “explaining” what had happened.

Jim Jones, he said, “was a genius of mind control, a master.  He knew exactly what he was doing.  I have never seen anything like this…but the jungle, the isolation, gave him absolute control.”  Just what Dr. Sukhdeo had been able to see in his few minutes in Jonestown is unclear.  But his importance in shaping the story is undoubted: he was one of the few civilian professionals at the scene, and his task was, quite simply, to help the press make sense of what had happened and to console those who had survived.  He was widely quoted, and what he had to say was immediately echoed by colleagues back in the States. (1999)

The idea that a charismatic individual can completely overtake the decision-making power of random victims and use their mindless bodies to do his bidding even to the point of inciting a uniform mass suicide, with 600 adult individuals willfully—even joyously—killing themselves and their children is startling, anxiety-provoking, ambiguous, and enticing. It is, in short, good material for conversation. It is precisely the stuff of which rumors, gossip, and urban legends are made (Guerin & Miyazaki, 2006). It is not a realistic causal evaluation of plausible events, but is rather a good example of what is called “magical thinking,” the type of credulity typically associated with the pre-rational thought processes of young children. However, research indicates that as they mature, people tend to abandon magical beliefs in word only. “Indeed, in their general patterns of judgments, actions and justifications, adult participants seem to be prepared to respect both scientific and non-scientific causal explanations to an equal extent” (Subbotsky, 2001). By sharing rumors with amongst ourselves in the course of conversation and by receiving fantastical official versions through the media, this tendency toward fascination becomes manifest. Wherever mass media is the source of the information, we must also take into account the social component of individual judgement, which is a considerable influence (Joslyn, 1997). For, as McLuhan noted, sociality of mass media is profoundly experienced—when we watch television, we are influenced not only by the content of the programming but also by the knowledge that a large number of our peers are watching as well (1964).

This may help to explain why so many of us have accepted a version of the Jonestown events that are implausible. In addition to the psychological discrepancies we have already noted, let us observe that death by cyanide poisoning is a painful and grotesque affair. Central nervous system signals become scrambled, causing both voluntary and involuntary muscular systems to spasm violently. Twisted, contorted limbs and a terrible grimace known as cyanide rictus are typical of this cause of death (Jaffe, 1983 as cited in Judge, 1985). However, none of the more than 150 available photographs of the victims reveal these symptoms. Furthermore, the victims were laid out in neat rows, and some of the closer range photos reveal drag marks on the ground, indicating that the corpses were arranged in this way after their death. Based on an investigation that included the testimony of Dr. Leslie Mootoo, the top Guyanese pathologist who served as Chief Medical Examiner for the case and who personally examined many of the Jonestown bodies, a Guyanese grand jury concluded that only two of the 913 dead had committed suicide. Dr. Mootoo found fresh needle marks near the left shoulder blades of the vast majority of the victims he inspected, with some others exhibiting gunshot wounds or strangulation as the likely cause of death. The gun with which Jones himself is purported to have shot himself in the head was found lying nearly 60 feet from his body (Judge, 1985; Hougan, 1999; Schnepper, 1999). It is evident, then, that the supposed “mass suicide” was actually a massacre—but who would slaughter nearly a thousand U.S.citizens, nearly all of whom were African Americans, women, and underprivileged children?

There is a substantial body of evidence connecting Jim Jones and his Peoples Temple to the covert operations of the United States government intelligence community, not least of which are his longstanding ties with CIA operative Dan Mitrione, his adeptness at infiltrating and exploiting local governments, the suspicious circumstances surrounding the assassination of Congressman Leo Ryan in Guyana the evening before the massacre (whose escort was a high-ranking CIA officer), and the enormous cache of psychiatric drugs found on the premises of the Peoples Temple colony—all of the type being experimented with at that time under the CIA’s MKULTRA mind-control project (Judge, 1985; Hougan, 1999). Additional evidence of U.S.government involvement in the affair involves the self-proclaimed “anti-cult activist” psychiatrist Dr. Sukhdeo, whose own attorney has stated that his trip to Guyana was funded by the U.S. State Department.

The possibility exists that Jonestown, Guyana was indeed one of the many government experiments in mind-control of the 1970s. If it is, however, it would seem that the experimental subjects included not only the members of the Peoples Temple, but also the public at large. Regardless of intention, we have here a clear case of a governmental bureaucracy producing and disseminating misinformation for one reason or another, and the public—including the scientific community—accepting it without question, repeating it with authority, and even using it as a basis for social theory. The danger that this presents to free society is enormous, and the need for a concerted scientific effort to understand its limits and to develop safeguards is equally enormous.

References

  1. Aronson, Elliot, Wilson, Timothy D., & Akert, Robin M. (2005). Social Psychology, 5th Edition.New Jersey: Pearson Education, Inc.
  2. Barker, Eileen (1996). “The Freedom of the Cage.” Society, Vol. 33 Issue 3, pp53-59.
  3. Guerin, Bernard & Miiyazaki, Yoshihiko (2006). The Psychological Record, Vol. 56, pp.23-24.
  4. Hougan, Jim (1999). ‘‘Jonestown. The Secret Life of Jim Jones: A Parapolitical Fugue.’’ Lobster, Vol. 37, pp.2-20.
  5. Joslyn, Mark R. (1997). Political Behavior, Vol. 19 No. 4, pp.337-343.
  6. Judge, John (1985). ‘‘The Black Hole of Guyana: The Untold Story of the Jonestown Massacre.’’ In Keith, Jim (Ed.), Secret and Suppressed: Banned Ideas and Hidden History.Portland,OR: Feral House.
  7. McLuhan, Marshall(1964). Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. Massachusetts: MIT Press.
  8. Schnepper, Jeff A. (1999). “Jonestown Massacre: The unrevealed story.” USA Today Magazine, Vol. 127 Issue 2644, p26.
  9. Subbotsky, Eugene(2001). British Journal of Developmental Psychology, Vol. 19, pp.23-46.

I Seem To Be A Verb

I started in the swelter downtown, finding a perch on the stairs by the college and smoking cheap Columbian cigarettes in big hot gulps. Miami in the dog days is humid like the sky is leaning in on you, and everyone is foreign to everyone else. You watch them: a group of Cuban girls wearing brightly-colored nothing, swinging their hips as they go by; a red, sun-burnt beggar, claims he’s from Alaska, waiting for his sister to wire him some funds and any little bit would help in the meantime, really; an old man in soot-dusted purple robe, his whole hair a single defiant dreadlock, shuffling around corners waving his hands to the sides in rhythm with his curses and invocations. Somehow foreign isn’t ever foreign enough: you know these people, every one. Their weirdness is mere weirdness, is familiar. Mystery is what we crave, what we go out looking for, what we spend our lives waiting for. Even when we’ve given up, the habit of it is what causes us to rise each morning.

Time changes when you’re waiting for someone in a crowded place—breaks off into little glaring pieces. A few old Jewish women in wigs and long dresses are crouching up the steps up into a bus, with plastic bags full of fabric in their hands. The time changes and I’m a sense of myself, a wisp of pollen off the edge of a sun in full bloom. Waiting on the edge of space in a cloud of carbon monoxide, I’m a sensation of an idea of myself: me waiting for an unknown and unknowable not-me. Paranoia: the mind beside itself. Everywhere are fictions, verbs in the past tense swimming passively over brainwaves.

Waiting like this, you forget what you’re waiting for and start watching too deeply. A young mother bouncing her baby along brick sidewalk in its stroller, black smudges holding it in; a white kid goes by in polo shirt, nervously rubbing two of his fingers together in every step. You feel guilty, like a child watching its parent through the crack in the bathroom door at eight o’clock in the morning—everyone going on and you staying still. Everyone is out bustling, and here I am in the meantime merely waiting, playing the proud whale who has beached himself and is afraid.

In one of these extended moments, I saw her, and I followed. She was a little black skirt and a little white top wrapped around an Amazon rail of a twenty-something, deep brown skin stretched tall over square shoulders, narrow. She walked from the hip and I followed, trying to catch the scent of her thousand tight little pigtails and never catching it. Around the building and into the parking garage, up the elevator, and I followed. There was nothing really remarkable about her, and I followed anyway. This is the way things change. This is the way everything changes.

We were both parked on the fifth floor. Making our way down, two cars separated me from her little white Toyota, then three. Through a red light here or there and a couple of turns and I’m right behind her, the both of us through the whitewashed, picture-windowed design district and into Little Haiti. The area is suburban but crowded, people always standing in groups by the street, cooking on barbecue grills, waiting vaguely for poverty to end everywhere at once. The scene is quiet but menacing.

She pulls into a shady spot beneath a tree and I follow her lead, parking on the street a few spaces away from her with a car in between. I spend an extra long time playing with the meter, watching her little square breasts press out against her shirt as she chatters away with a bearded old man. They’re speaking the strange pseudo-French, Haitian Creole, vibrations rolling out of their mouths and dropping dead on the street. They both look over at me and I pretend to ignore them, making a trip around the car, ducking into the floorboards hunting for change. Everything is always changing, and nothing ever does.

Finally, over the meter, I watch her and the old man cross the street and fall in between a large round wooden double-door. For a moment I stand across the street, confused. Mystery is an increase in friction: any little breeze might completely sweep you away, might hijack your whole existence.

The enormous round doors are attached to the front of a big white box, with relief sculptures on either side: big red clay faces wearing horns, each one set in behind bars with its mouth pulled wide in a grimace, serpentine tongue extended. To each door is affixed a massive iron ring for a handle. With sweat rolling off my fingers in heavy drops, I reach out for one, and take hold of the thing.

For a moment it’s hot, then weightless. Blackness passes and the colors march by in regiment, losing their order like marbles rolling out from a kaleidoscope and into an ocean. Waves can only speak mathematics, the smooth run of surface through surface: can never tell you where you are or what. Eternity is an ocean that doesn’t care.

Time changes when you’re guilty and alone. In some clear morning, a rooster is crying, his eyes gouged out and hung from stars. The time changes and there is warmth and coldness, ice in the priestess’ mouth through rivers of hot white blood. Loa—Mystery—is the black mother in fifty robes speaking around ages’ orbits in marvel of sheer bended space. A razor falling off its own liquid edge, I am a sense of senselessness, a lost divine temple set out in the span of seconds. The whole room is illuminated around a central pillar, and I feel myself chanting on hard feet. Poteau-mitan, it’s called, and it is the liberty of trance at the center of the room, myself and the motions locked in dance. It is the point of communication between myself and other; I have memory of entire lifetimes spent in conversation.

My legs are older but stronger than before, loosing their sweat to the hem of my gown as I move. But there’s more that I can’t speak or think or dance. La langue n’est jamais exacte. It’s always two steps removed, always flowing out of some someone else’s mouth at exactly the time it feels it should be coming from your own. Demain aujourd’hui hier, the fiction of any of us, anywhere. We are shifting around together, trading skins, and nothing changes because it already has. Je tuerai ce soir. Je ne peux pas m’aider. J’ai tué aujourd’hui.

Matris, operor vos aspicio ut ego amor vos?

The mystery of mysteries, my ordinary girl, is dancing with me about the poteau-mitan. To each other we are spirits. I stop to watch her body heave above our little altar, her naked back flexing. She brings to me the book, enormous, swaying in her walk like a great dancing jungle cat. She is the mother of us all, the magic of dark places; she hoists the book up to her chest and passes it along to me with a kiss that is warm and wet and frightening.

The book is gigantic beneath my gray beard, written in a language no one has ever spoken, and which only I pronounce: there is wildness there—time changes into something that never was; I and she like king and queen are everywhere; my old hands scoop the pollen from the sun’s soft center; my tits are the hard milk of the African plains; my met tet is the gros bon ange of inextricable universe, the fabric of an old woman’s projections, the child lost to stained hampers in the endless heat.

Perched between the parchment pages is a dove, white, like the ones outside. I can feel the strain building in my biceps for a moment before I begin to see it happen, and am utterly possessed: the book closes, hard, and the animal is crushed, lost in blood and spirit. The mystery is unreadable; the lines have run together. I am Ahab, slaughtering myself from inside my own enormous belly. The time changes and I was a verb, and now I am only a fiction.

The Structure of a Revolution

“Reality is an illusion,
albeit a very persistent one.”

-Albert Einstein

I flip the pieces ’round themselves
in temper-fits that last for days—
and while it’s true I tell the truth,
it’s only in the thoughtful ways:

the green the pastures tell the cars
as they go by in smoky fog
and revel in the passersby
in burnt out ends of salted hog

is just the sort of self-defeating
admiration of itself
that paints a blue sky out from under
silky black and endless bog!

You see? the pieces fit each other
across the bread in marmalade;
the truth is only true so often
that when it is, I am afraid.

I don’t really care

that much about
the pressing issues,
the wars and revolutions,
all universe falling apart
and coming together,

and all of us,
the flesh of us
going crazy and
coming off the bone—

I’m really a lot
more interested in music,
in the gentleness of thought,
the way in dreams
we find we
stroke the hair of angels,
assign them names that,
while beautiful, can never be true again,
names we’ll never even
remember.

I don’t really care
about the government—
it’ll never work
and they’ll never stop trying;
I wish that all the voters
and the soldiers
and the lovely meter maids
would come and lay with me
with open mouths.