anthropology out of a white mud church, the mystery of conquered pain in operatic voices, mixing ebon ancestors and Christ; or in another hemisphere, the silver of the moon on giant leaves, whose fruit is half their riches, yet the traveler must not refuse, although the song of paddy frogs must be the other half; or to hear with wonder tropic syllables with gestures long and strong as footpaths, circling sierras in our human hearts now freed of intimacy’s need; and in the loneliness of cities, human acts as real as grandmas: hubcap habitats, the brotherhood of dodging arts, distilled and bottled shaman’s lore to lure a wayward ghost -- or shocking cleanliness as symbol in the citadel of dust; there’s room and then some in my tapestry to play your way of knowing out from these; the eye once free to follow, rapturous, will trace its sacred myth in every human sympathy.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 05:17:26 +0000
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