utilities
or instruments or works and feelings screaming through expression; art as a
lonely man or groping at walls, like a holy woman. I was enthralled at one
point, but a lady showed in absence those moons coming to earth. pews filled
with believers, if but they understood, I fathom Moses had much to tussle with.
to know upon a dandelion as something accessible while screaming total
dominance: ours is more powerful; ours created yours; or ours will decimate
your land and crops or mines and diamonds inside guts and coals. too much
brushwork. so cold as an instinct. nevermore as innocent as it was intended.
medical scholars seated nearby such belief as it flames.
listless upon a
ringing bell church is in session a seven-year-old was baptized. Angie was
elated. she burst into tongues. an elder wailed, “Look at that Satan. Look at
God’s Power. That girl got the Ghost in her.”
social
brushwork. it seems dangerous. as trying to hold an ocean in its closet, or
carrying a beach to an island.
an
elephant with a hyena’s face—or a coyote with a human’s body, or a grackle
screaming in sheer agony. too much to decipher, or meant without intention, or
a woman we learn to feel correctly. woven into me like grass in earth or bark
to its root, those branches graphed in the bark as prime inheritance while
branches grow madly with arrogance. we have yet to understand it. our glasslike
minds try to contain it. there’s something to feeling expendable.
but church is
going fire is in preachers most persons are standing, shouting, and looking for
shelter.
what
if we knew—in totality—would it increase its value or decrease it? Are we
losing?
