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Alan Dugan - Against A Sickness: To The Female Double Principle God
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She said: “I’m god and all 
of this and that world and love 
garbage and slaughter all the time 
and spring once a year. Once a year 
I like to love. You can adjust 
to the discipline or not, 
and your sacrificial act 
called ‘Fruitfulness in Decay’ 
would be pleasing to me 
as long as you did it with joy. 
Otherwise, the prayer ‘Decay, 
Ripe in the Fruitfulness’ 
will do if you have to despair.” 


Prayer 


You know that girl of yours 
I liked? The one with strong legs, 
grey eyes, weak in the chest 
but always bouncing around? 
The one they call “The Laugh,” 
“The Walk,” “That Cunt,” “The Brain,” 
“Talker, Talker, Talker,” and 
“The Iron Woman”? Well, 
she’s gone, gone gone, gone 
gone gone to someone else, 
and now they say that she, 
“My Good,” “My True,” “My Beautiful,” 
is sick to her god-damned 
stomach and rejects all 
medication. What do you do 
to your physical praisers that 
they fall apart so fast 
or leave me? She needs help now, 
yours or that prick’s, 
I don’t know which. 


          “I have worked out 
          my best in belief 
          of the rule, ‘The best 
          for the best results 
          in love of the best,’ 
          or, ‘To hell with it: 
          I am just god: 
          it’s not my problem.”’ 


I will sit out this passion 
unreconciled, thanks: there are 
too many voices. My visions 
are not causal but final: 
there’s no place to go to 
but on. I’ll dance at the ends 
of the white strings of nerves 
and love for a while, your slave. 
Oh stupid condition, I drink 
to your Presences in hope of sleep 
asleep, and continuity awake.
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