"twenty-two meditations" from brett a. maddux's algorithm hymns

twenty-two meditations

i.

amen again still trying to break the habit
still trying to reach the ground cross-
legged over the connecticut in
suspension trembling shivering above a
shimmering luminosity alive or so they
tell me & downtown i saw a bride &
groom walking alone along a sidewalk
toward the courthouse & at the river’s
edge two children swing in motion each
one aiming for the sky & at a picnic
table three women sit watching & one
says good heavens & they laugh & on
the corridor beneath the bridge they list
the great floods of the past though not all
of them & not the future ones & a man
draws autumn trees in red pencil beside
the sculpture keckly & there are toddlers
in masks grass moved by breeze like
waves descending it has been two
months since my last cigarette it has
been two months since i last spoke to
rose it has been two months since i
learned how to ascend into air & i keep
thinking it will get easier & some days it
does some days parades on pyrrhic
victories but most days i have to take
myself out to clear the lungs & brain a
bit clear the space where kings & queens
are dancing playing their music for gods
own audience first the bend the traffic
casual & then the pirouette

ii.

rested gently upon the lungs bridge
mercy’s blessings life is lived until
forgiveness blends in with the water as
sun eddies grass into the current i have
been told love comes between good &
perfect but i haven’t found it there & i
have been looking & i have been
wondering what it is we come for water
in a spiders web fifteen steps across the
span a gnat that hovers suspended
endlessly over the city & somewhere a
dog is barking as a hawk circles the
aqueduct & i have been wondering what
these animals are doing in my head & on
the tracks a cashed half-smoked cigarette
butt a god that gives until we’ve had
enough

iii.

god pulls up a chair takes a seat adjusts
the microphone says i would like to play
for you forgiveness psalms in minor key
& they’ll sound just like the ones you
heard before as the radio plays every
station no kings & no solicitations doors
running right up to the water & if the
boatman asks exactly what you came for
i find it’s best to tell the truth or
something close to it on grand pianos
made of metaphor a time that sounds the
same in either three or four a driving
rhythm bodies can’t ignore over the
water now eyes on the shore see gilded
cities made of bended glass flowers &
snakes that blend in with the grass flows
current from the future to the past as
ravens hover for your souls repast &
wonder how long does this morphine
last with lungs that claim to breathe as
clouds roll past you can not take it &
you can’t give it back

iv.

staircase of light that leads you
underneath the boatman asks you for
your baby teeth & quotes a fair price for
your soul before he whispers where’s
your god now & in hartford in ‘36 water
nearly reached the bridge & seven years
before there was depression & three
years later the war was on & in ‘45 they
dropped the bomb & as the floods came
rolling in as hiroshima burned as
children lined up for bread they must
have thought the world was ending
prophecy come water rising markets
collapsing famine & struggle all against
all & lately everyone i talk to seems to
think the world is ending & most of
them seem to think it is happening for
the first time

v.

still here still know that this world is
purgatory still know the magic word will
still not let me in children still on
autumn bicycles therapy still by
telephone still power & its tyrants still to
be covered up with flowers still cheap
thrills still every day changes still a nice
woman in the park told me what the
intelligence chiefs said she should be
afraid of in between ads for life
insurance & heavy duty pick up trucks &
she asked me if i’d heard the bad news
so i read to her from the hymnal glory to
george’s born again evangelists glory to
our bombs glory to their lobbyists all our
war criminals & all of their apologists
their violent client states & their rouge
militant nationalists strange how the
holy water seems to wash away all of the
stains from all of the last wars blood still
talking heads on television still
advertisements for prescriptions still
contractors consultants & henchmen still
have some fear they’d like to sell you
you’ll hear them preaching from the
citadel for those who pray to lords of
nazareth for those who pray to liquor
cabinets for those who pray to be
subanimate just name the dream & they
can sell you that for those who draft the
ones you love a pill to cure your vague
impotent blues turn the volume up here
comes the breaking news

vi.

the river beneath my body looked like
god herself feeding diamonds to her
horses made of gold floating on the
horizon tall buildings filled with middle
managers queen of all those who show
mercy she has inscribed a circle on the
face of the waters at the boundary
between the light & the darkness

vii.

still here soul still tired still counting
blessings on fingers toes & vertebrae
bird still comes in low against the wind
above the water but still it’s coming sun
side of the hill or shaded still alive or so
they tell me still grateful for the mystery
two years since i’ve seen most of my
friends but i know that they still hold me
still i am carried on their shoulders there
is still dirt between my fingers from the
soil in the gardens where they still teach
me how to grow the fruit my body
planted cross-legged on the ground of
gratitude meditation on two years of
solitude still god’s needle comes to find
the groove still my heart can float above
& float between & from a distance it can
see them & in an instant it can meet
them in this liminal attendance out of
body in transcendence god the meaning
of forgiveness if you’ve been wondering
where your friends went open the door
that keeps the record of your time you
will find it in your mind & you will hear
them playing music in the night & it will
sound like birds & barking dogs that
levitate in memory of the way it was the
way it is the way it will someday be & it
will wink telling you the cosmic joke
how you keep thinking life is passing by
& that you’re real & all of this is really
happening & when at last you reach the
end you hear the punch line

viii.

breach i have seen young men in the
streets some screaming out in fits of
pique some joyful some in misery hands
seen reaching out in hunger or in peace
sometimes in anger or in love sometimes
in pain the world still seems to turn the
same so i’ve been trying to become
vision my eyes & my feet what i say &
what i mean the difference between
reverence & reverie learning songs &
learning to sing them with my lungs in
resurrection from the sea coughing
ascendant & obscene praying my father
doesn’t die this week row row row your
boat gently down the stream merrily
merrily merrily merrily life is but a
dream

ix.

a wheel it’s spokes but not it’s medicine
an old friend says hello from distance if
only i had ears to hear it ringing clearly
through the universe on burning chariot
on intergalactic hearse dogs on the leash
of planet earth elements mixing in with
the oxygen a blue moon rising up the
interstate a calendar of how long mercy
takes what is the word for nature’s
scripture women & children taking
pictures dressed in such elegant ribbons
in sunday best as leaves descend on
breezes gently weaving floating from the
west i smell the stars i hear them
glowing

x.

i hear choirs barking i hear church bells ringing i
hear shadows bending i hear morning is what
comes after the night babies at south green bus
stops poetic justice jackets pushers static on
nearly every frequency god of my animal divinity
express bus on the way to bradley i scan every
passing face to find no passenger six flowers &
i’ve lost every one the seventh seal is yet to come
the one i love still does not love me of all the
truths that i’ve learned to believe in like all the
dust that passes through collecting everything i
lose to bind in no particular order good morning
moon my father coughing by the water my lover
left me in the bardo strangers describing facebook
photos in this one they are inside the door & in
this one outside a laugh that echoes river
corridors a joke parents can tell in front of
children in this one sinners are forgiven & in this
one they’re not so much depends upon the god we
teach kids to believe in hello my friend the things
you need are within you they will try to sell you
fear & shiny objects to distract you & lead your
body to tall buildings to contract you so you can
buy a little nine to five reality an ad you saw on
television for some new medicine that teaches
corporate wisdom an electric pocket box for
digital miseducation a god to overcome my habits
you silly algorithmic rabbit you do not need to be
afraid we’ve got something you can take for that
just sit quiet & relax breathe in the lungs that you
still have first there is life & then what comes
after it of all the things you claimed to own &
who you claimed to be i hear a silence in the
streets i know it echoes if you listen we return
you to your previously scheduled reality already
in progress back to barking choirs back to breach
this one is born so ceremonial i know that it will
all be over soon so i am writing this one from
another life

xi.

a promise i made to my sister not to
write anymore bullshit about time or
elements or shapes or numbers not to
think that i can understand things not to
try to solve the answer to the riddle
that’s been rolling round in circles in my
head goddamn it there i go again i guess
i have returned to shapes & forms i
guess that i have been reborn but i am
trying not to notice it i’m sorry britany i
will call you & we can talk about
existence knowing the odds are pretty
slim & knowing how the story ends for
me & for my friends & for everybody on
the planet born to a culture that believes
it’s kind of morbid to go mentioning our
own impending deaths to feel warm
breath against your neck & know it’s
really coming someday whether your
soul’s prepared or not this life is not a
parking lot it is a bridge forever spans it
stops & then it starts again it keeps a
lighter in its purse & death is what gives
living purpose a light that leads to what
is glowing deep inside of us a promise i
made to my sister no possessions no
subdivisions in what time i have left
rambling on & on again this is the song
that never ends where air & birds are
trying to lead you to the consciousness
of trees a door that doesn’t have a key
that opens slow into what’s coming after
please know that this one sounds like
laughter real life the stage & all its
actors are sipping water sitting on the
moon

xii.

a desert that is coming for your city a
dog that stands on both hind legs is
sitting pretty & the fact that it’s a robot
doesn’t seem to bother anyone who pets
it before the war we all believed that the
machines were here to help us

a letter you start writing to your children
about the world & why everything’s
burning & when you get to the good part
you can’t help but to laugh before the
water wars people used to set their
sprinklers in the grass

depending on the time you have & how
long you have it if you ask the question
you will get the answer see men pouring
water on the dust bankers & mercenaries
breaking up the trusts holding tight to
everyone you love if in fact this is the
prewar before it started people were
addicted to these things called cell
phones smoking algorithmic outrage
singing pseudo-religious love songs
humans referring to their lives & bodies
as a brand before everything got a little
out of hand people begging to have their
lives influenced corporations selling
them prepackaged revolution & nobody
noticed until the water started rising

xiii.

we interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news
we go now to our correspondent live & on location in
the future

good morning chuck yes we are here at the corner of
franklin & maple where a hole has opened up into
what appears to be the intersection of space & time
witnesses say they think sagan may have been on to
something when he said we have the cosmos inside of
us & that he may have been describing a similar
phenomenon to tolstoy who said that the kingdom of
god is within you

sharon have you gone through the hole

yes chuck we did step into the hole which opened up
into this same intersection one hundred years in the
future

& what did you see there

well chuck everything looked the same only there were
drones patrolling the sky & there were no humans &
for the most part everything seemed to be under water

have humans gone extinct in this new future sharon

no chuck we were able to speak to a robot who was
scuttling around in the water splashing playfully at
another robot who told us that at some point humans
agreed to let billionaire tech developers implant chips
into their brains to connect them directly to the internet
& now humans spend all of their time locked inside
staring at a bright light fearful of shadows in what the
robot described as a “coma of advertisements”

& how does that differ from the present sharon

it doesn’t chuck

xiv.

born just to be charity standing orders
born just to be born once i built a railroad born just
to be born again now it’s done born just to be
born again fond but not in love

please master tell me
please master sell me
please master sell me something cheap
please master holy water for my body
please master lonely wandering through
capital monopolies
please master bathe me in heteronomy
please master what does the data say is wrong
with me
please master let me rest my head upon your
belly
please master place my face beneath the left
breast mole
please master hold me
please master i hear time is always ending &
if that’s true i’d rather end it where you are
north of the grass & south of the stars the
ringing nuclear alarm a warmth that flows out
from your arms as existence gently collapses
all around us no more water no more
commerce starvation falling bombs &
converts to the religion of the earth the circle
medicine the cosmos the sound of birds
ringing like proverbs
please master tell me
please master tell me what these animals are
doing in my head
please master nothing starts & nothing ever
ends
please master i was born just to be born again
please master let me in on the joke behind the
dim unknown
please master wrong forever on the throne
truth forever on the scaffold it wasn’t my idea
so i won’t be bashful & when i finally
understand the cosmic joke i’ll hear the angels
laughter echoing the rafters sounding a little
like a five-eyed alley cat does
please master dogs that bark into the night
please master ask the advertisers to stop
selling every body egos & lies like we even
exist this reality is brought to you by coca
cola
please master any way the wind blows
please master turn out the lights the party’s
over

xv.
i have two heads one is governed by the
bomb & the other’s governed by the
algorithms & neither one pretends to
know the difference

i have two heads one is governed by the
spirit & the other one stays quiet so to
hear it as it whispers to me gentle things
as it tries to sell me wedding rings &
plastic bassinets on credit holy be the
god of the internet

i have two heads one for father one for
mother one for fire one for water one
that hates me one that loves me i have
two heads & only one of them is
working but i haven’t learned to tell
which one or why

i have two heads one is green & one is
red one is born & one is born again one
goes on forever & one gets stopped up
on depression i have two heads one for
sadness one for pleasure one taken off
for love & one taken off inside of nice
churches one for chorus one for verses
one machine & one is person one is
grace & one is mercy

i have two heads one to row the boat one
to merrily down the stream one pretends
that life is real & one knows it is just a
dream

xvi.

hidden world we are dreams casting
light & shadow we are ones & we are
zeroes we are bodies very briefly & then
we’re not we are creation & it’s gods &
children hidden world we write it down
in allegory we call it life or purgatory we
try to get where we are going pretending
all along that we exist & that all of this
is really happening prophecy of the
algorithms set our bodies to the rhythm
of the alternating hymnal we are liminal
we are blue moons wet with water

xvii.

a finger draws itself upon the river’s
surface & the wake echoes out to the
shore asking nicely for the morning
asking money for dope & money for
rope & iridescent is the word they use
for how light refracts oil in water &
incandescent is the word they use for
glowing with intense heat & i guess i
don’t know what word they use for when
people get sold wars by their military-
loving leaders & their billionaire presses
but it seems to happen often enough to
call it something hell in my lifetime
already three or four (seven) & that’s
just the ones they tell us about for a few
weeks before getting bored with it &
that’s depending on if you count the one
they’re selling us right now all against
all every single person i meet of any
persuasion being fed a steady diet of
outrage anger vague pronouncements of
violences to come & i wonder what that
will lead to first they sold bombs to the
good newspaper readers on
recommendation from wise sages &
bureaucratic middle managers hello
friends why don’t we drop a few tons on
iraq afghanistan & send some drones to
africa sell weapons to any bidder let’s
see what happens then first you have the
war against the terror & then they sell
you war against your neighbors in every
issue & edition that i can find so that
should end well & lately everyone i ask
admits they’ve been feeling angrier &
more terrified staring vacantly at their
telephones convinced somehow the
world must be ending as though any of
this is new seeing signs in every shadow
wonder why that might be & i guess
john was right about those neurotic
psychotic pigheaded politicians so
hallelujah go & ring the bell pretend that
there are answers to the question pretend
that you really exist pretend the time is
short now when really it is not & good
luck with all those salesmen & their war
machines

xviii.

gaze in revival windblown carnival is
come to town in the quiet if you listen it
is loud & it is sharp enough to sever any
tree limb like a father with a daughter on
his knee counts the blackbirds one two
three draws the circle soft & sweet cycle
complete trying to make it proud of me
& if i fail i know that they’ll have me
committed water flowing iridescent
close my eyes & meditate upon a love i
loved in some other life the stars that
found me in the night in suns valley
played the music & they taught me to
dance to it they said that nobody can
plan for this so medicate me i am feeling
spiritual the light that glimmers on the
river hears it too it sounds like imitation
furniture please take your seat upon the
floor to hear the souls luminous chord
the present tense & nothing more

xix.
soul battled sympathetic undilated pupils
the first bite always tastes more lovely
than the last good morning friend all of
your ghosts are here & once again they’d
like to bum some cigarettes they asked
me where your lover went but me i
didn’t have the heart to tell them so
instead i read a list of every nerve
contained within the human throat &
showed them advertisements to keep
them docile mercy my friend i have
come to sell you some prescriptions you
can take this one for fear you can take
this for suspicion & paranoia take this
one for a place at war in eighty nations a
gentle sedative to combat night terrors
this one helps you see politicians hiding
behind two different names for one
ordinary corporate flavor one says
chocolate one says vanilla but they both
taste like money & if you refuse to take
it they’ll scream at you on television &
the internet which elicits the desired
effect take once every four years to feel
you have a choice this one settles vision
in some vacant middle distance for
casual conversations with strangers &
acquaintances subliminal & everlasting
best if taken with the bread & some wine
side effects include transcendence into
light & when you die you have to live
another life

xx.
amen if i am born again just like any
other matter in this universe that leaves
& then comes back snake in the rocks
beside the tracks my soul is climbing up
the mountain to where the air is growing
thinner & from there i can see the city
clamoring desperately at distance partial
usually to the eucharist first passing &
then dropping ordinance little of column
a little of column b a little something for
the bankers & their trillion dollar
military as the people watch the play
they stage every couple years billion
dollar ad campaigns for fear to sell them
on the lie that they can have some say in
it to convince them none of this is really
happening just some speed freak
aberrations just waging war in seven
nations eighty if you count the drones &
bases please do not look behind the
curtain you may not like what you will
see how much does it cost to wage an
endless war when you die god will ask
you what you’re sorry for they claim
that this has never happened before
unless you count the many times it has i
guess that won’t sell as many ads better
to pretend this is exceptional better go &
fetch your algorithmic hymnal where
every prayer begins & ends with the
amen

xxi.

on a day when we still have water as the
light moves across it i’m flowing
refracted counting all the way to three

on a day when i still have love i will fall
to my knees to give thanks to my pusher
& punisher a prayer for to worship her
spoken for no audience

on a day when we still have air if the
breather resists me if my lover insists i
will breathe it in deeply with what lungs
i have left

on a day that is followed by night i will
drink from the cup that tastes similar to a
river meeting the sea sound blends in
with heat & runs over the street as sweet
rain flows down into gutters as we are
born from our mothers

on a day when we still have fire enough
for the warmth when sky comes to fill
up my blood when they sing hallelujah
my body’s a tree set the match up
against me & turn my ashes to
blackbirds

xxii.

let me learn to lay my body down
walking on november sidewalks asking
passing cars & stray cats to describe for
me existence over sirens & sewer grate
mist my queen & all her nicotine
believers car radios echoing the
answer my mind is telling me no but my
body is telling me yes & i am in the
business of listening to the universe so i
am signing off for scripture no saviors &
no politicians warm bodies dancing
softly to wet hymns with plastic bottles
piling up beside the river dragonflies
hovering above them a large bird
ascendant in a leafless treetop with no
one quite sure what to call it my father’s
favorite alcoholics always knew when
the time had come to take a hint as the
boatman takes your hand & looks just
like an old friend you knew once in a
past life not for the first nor for the last
time he asks if you have any last
requests as it all comes to an end mind
still says no body still says yes still there
is still time for one more song there are
three quarters in his palm one for the
jukebox two to place over your eyes two
windows open to the night hands rested
calm upon the bar a melody you’ve
heard before one you smell as it is
glowing bright beneath the coming
water turn out the light the party’s
over so grab your coat hop in the boat
rhythm gentle as it goes as the body
disintegrates into its elements they say
that all good things must end one last
cigarette for love & all its malcontents
for habits & what’s after them we stop &
then we start again amen