the trouble with sunday

[jmnical]

purity:
for the White-robed/well-dressed masses
lashes sealed, aligned and earnest
readers; accepters
teachers and preachers—Children
book-smells open, unsticking pages
again&again sung melodies and
crumbs spilling, wine
staining permanent, little-girl dresses & little-boy jackets
big-people’s key-jingles clean-shaven fresh-pressed
a Knower advises:
take this body for your empty; for your lost-belly
on your knees, hands clasped—plead

dark-times come and
clearing sad throats saying i’m sorry and here is my hand,
offering the maybes of better-places
while cavernous jaws threaten swallowing, but there’s promises
—still i’m sorry

radiance of fragmented hues through panes, and
pains of new and old things and now-things
trembling, tiptoes of welling up, of
wet-baby heads,
wailing, in strangers’ arms
promises

streaming, streaming rosepetals from baskets
having holding and iloveyous, forevers, always-es
and
stillness of kisses

clean:
not for the sacrilegious
the ones who utter those Names
alpha omega allah yahweh
g-d
except they say the o, they
say it like it’s theirs; g-(keep the-o)-d, first-letter-is-capital
with widening eyes, gaping red lips,
hastening of tongue,
an appendage of arbitrary statement, subjection of listeners to
blasphemy in the form of a three-letter-noun, one little first-letter-is-Capital
heresy

in vain:
a plea for; a cry washing over
on worn knees, for holy
(isn’t the holy the savior, the save-your, save-me?)
pleas—fill up holes in love-empty bellies
alpha omega allah yahweh,
will they not forgive
will they not forgive a curse (curses)
born of desperation?
of misguided yearning for iloveyous and always-es?
to be pure?