Angel at the Gate* Nathaniel Mackey (bio) —”mu” one hundred seventy-first part— “The metaphysical wishes of the body,” I’d read in Wilson’s book.A passerby with a beehive hairdo con- firmed it. Sister C and I steppedoff the bus. Was it body’s wish to rise above or to add to itself I won- dered out loud, a wish for more body or a wish to be more than body, a wish to be rid of itself. Thelady with the beehive hairdo wore a par- rot-feather boa, twinning her hair’s wish to be wing, Sister C said, tobe word, to be sigh, to be sign, to be book . . . A passerby with a scarlet Afro walked by next, frizz and flaming col- or of another world Sister C pointed out, bodily whisk as soon as it got soon gone, sad end it all comes to callingback as he passed out of sight. So it was we thought about time, vain pursuit. Had a passerby decked out in peacock feathers come next I’d’ve sighed . . . I want- [End Page 141] ed nothing if not to climb a soapbox, nothing if not to send an amen Wilson’sway, say something about soul, no body not soul’s effect, the buzz, the lowered eyes, the bitten lip. Come with us upthe Mountain of the Night Abdullah called from the box, one glamor come back, a lost or a last flare it seemed . . . I was hold-ing what came to hand, trying to hold on, contingency’s dictates contingency’s angel, soul body’s wish, viceversa [End Page 142] ________ We stepped off the bus to the plat-form, the podium, pulpit, lectern, bullhorn, soapbox I wanted it to be. Ab- dullah had my back I could hear, baritone reach, baritone bottom, no matter rectitude met lament. I stood tall affecting nothing if not stateli- ness, stately aplomb I wanted my address to come off with. I stood float- ing many a metaphysical notion, soul’s bodily tenancy one of them but only one, something seen in a face no face itself made good on, I lift-ed my arm, my heart above my head . . . I stood stately floating many a sensate no- tion. “Mouth be my witness,” I swore, “nose be my witness.” Mountain of the Night notwithstanding, the blue star toobright to be looked at bore down on us. “Eye, ear, sphincter, genital opening be my witness. Bodily gate be my witness,” Iswore. Sister C held my hand as I spoke, amen’d my every thought. Bodily gate bond- ed her book she avowed . . . We were in Hyde Park, the Speakers’ Corner. We were in back of the East Bay it seemed, thesense of being a band or in a band upon us again, the Dialectical Sound Ensemble the band we’d be, this or that drummed af- fliction’s dreamt relief . . . Got there clue-less, remained the same no matter, I toed a tight Heraclitean line, truth be told truth hid- den, the appeal of parts notshown [End Page 143] ________ I toed a strict Ogotemmêlian line, thewonder we wear nothing underneath no wonder, body’s metaphysical wish the wish it were so . . . Soul’s bodily wish was two lovers’ wish to be one I held forth, polis’s wish to be one we of like order. I spoke in search of clime, truth be told a hidden truth, hidden treasure, familiarity’s wear warded off [End Page 144] Nathaniel Mackey Nathaniel Mackey, editor of the experimental literary journal Hambone and former Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets (2001–2007), is author of a number of volumes poems and fiction, including Bass Cathedral (volume four of his ongoing serial fiction From a Broken Bottle Traces of Perfume Still Emanate, 2008), Bedouin Hornbook (fiction, 1986), Splay Anthem (poetry, 2006), Nod House (poetry, 2011), and Blue Fasa (poetry, 2015). He is also author of two books of literary and cultural criticism, Discrepant Engagement: Dissonance, Cross-Culturality, and Experimental Writing (1993) and Paracritical Hinge: Essays, Talks, Notes, Interviews (2005). His numerous honors and awards include...
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