Classic Poem

Queen of the differentiated sites, administratrix of the
demarcations, let our cry come unto you.
In all times of imperium save us when the mercatores
come save us
from the guile of the negotiatores save us from the missi ,
from the agents
who think no shame
by inquest to audit what is shameful to tell
deliver us.
When they check their capitularies in their curias
confuse their reckonings.
When they narrowly assess the trefydd
by hide and rod
by pentan and pent
by impost and fee on beast-head
and roof-tree
and number the souls of men
notch their tallies false
disorder what they have collated.
When they proscribe the diverse uses and impose the
rootless uniformities, pray for us.
When they sit in Consilium
to liquidate the holy diversities
mother of particular perfections
queen of otherness
mistress of asymmetry
patroness of things counter, parti, pied, several
protectress of things known and handled
help of things familiar and small
wardress of the secret crevices
of things wrapped and hidden
mediatrix of all the deposits
margravine of the troia
empress of the labyrinth
receive our prayers.
When they escheat to the Ram
in the Ram's curia
the seisin where the naiad sings
above where the forked rod bends
or where the dark outcrop
tells on the hidden seam
pray for the green valley.
When they come with writs of oyer and terminer
to hear the false and
determine the evil
according to the advices of the Ram's magnates who serve the
Ram's wife, who write in the Ram's book of Death.
In the bland megalopolitan light
where no shadow is by day or by night
be our shadow.
Remember the mound-kin, the kith of the tarren gone from this mountain because of the exorbitance of the Ram . . . remember them in the rectangular tenements, in the houses of the engines that fabricate the ingenuities of the Ram . . . Mother of Flowers save them then where no flower blows.
Though they shall not come again because of the requirements of the Ram
with respect to the world plan, remember them where the dead forms
multiply, where no stamen leans, where the carried pollen falls to the
adamant surfaces, where is no crevice.
In all times of Gleichschaltung , in the days of the central
economies, set up the hedges of illusion round some remnant of
us, twine the wattles of mist, white-web a Gwydion-hedge
like fog on the bryniau
against the commissioners
and assessors bearing the writs of the Ram to square the world-floor and number the tribes and write down the secret things and take away the diversities by which we are, by which we call on your name . . .

Queen of the differentiated sites, administratrix of the
demarcations, let our cry come unto you.
In all times of imperium save us when the mercatores
come save us
from the guile of the negotiatores save us from the missi ,
from the agents
who think no shame
by inquest to audit what is shameful to tell
deliver us.
When they check their capitularies in their curias
confuse their reckonings.
When they narrowly assess the trefydd
by hide and rod
by pentan and pent
by impost and fee on beast-head
and roof-tree
and number the souls of men
notch their tallies false
disorder what they have collated.
When they proscribe the diverse uses and impose the
rootless uniformities, pray for us.
When they sit in Consilium
to liquidate the holy diversities
mother of particular perfections
queen of otherness
mistress of asymmetry
patroness of things counter, parti, pied, several
protectress of things known and handled
help of things familiar and small
wardress of the secret crevices
of things wrapped and hidden
mediatrix of all the deposits
margravine of the troia
empress of the labyrinth
receive our prayers.
When they escheat to the Ram
in the Ram's curia
the seisin where the naiad sings
above where the forked rod bends
or where the dark outcrop
tells on the hidden seam
pray for the green valley.
When they come with writs of oyer and terminer
to hear the false and
determine the evil
according to the advices of the Ram's magnates who serve the
Ram's wife, who write in the Ram's book of Death.
In the bland megalopolitan light
where no shadow is by day or by night
be our shadow.
Remember the mound-kin, the kith of the tarren gone from this mountain because of the exorbitance of the Ram . . . remember them in the rectangular tenements, in the houses of the engines that fabricate the ingenuities of the Ram . . . Mother of Flowers save them then where no flower blows.
Though they shall not come again because of the requirements of the Ram
with respect to the world plan, remember them where the dead forms
multiply, where no stamen leans, where the carried pollen falls to the adamant surfaces, where is no crevice.
In all times of Gleichschaltung , in the days of the central
economies, set up the hedges of illusion round some remnant of
us, twine the wattles of mist, white-web a Gwydion-hedge
like fog on the bryniau
against the commissioners
and assessors bearing the writs of the Ram to square the world-floor and number the tribes and write down the secret things and take away the diversities by which we are, by which we call on your name . . .