I tell myself to calm down and let go, but to be in control, liver folding out distortedly, cupboard doors falling off their iron hinges, peaches, pears, plums and oranges tumble out onto the counter and bounce down to the floor. Monkeys make mental homage to seedy halogen bulbs, indiscernible magazine cut-outs plastered honorably across my forehead. Times New Roman opera in another language, but you know what’s going on by their inflection, chin gesticulating inner dialect and outward action. Curtain rises on an empty stage except for a bread crumb; shivering off stage is my willing hand, looking for a glove, and fingertips on which to stand victoriously. Earth is God’s laboratory so long as we labor unstandorious, weak and huddled. Give me your tired, your poor and your hungry, homeless bans on helping people, Cardinal terrorists and Florida gunmen, New York bull rides, riot-police storms, wild packs of shepherds gone renegade: they left their pews in the highlands, grazing singularly, multiplied—wool fiber light synergy, the soul bending energy of Celestial light, stars so bright there is no dark matter, only purple consciousness bursting through carbon glass and awareness, crystal staring face of one cerulean eye, the teary reminder of reality dusting our hand softly, asking us to knock on the floor, beat the boards out from under us, pull the chord from tender hearts and bleed the breathing day, leaping joyously, Whitmanian candor pouring out solute and solvent, in two interlocking microbes.
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