An intricate series of hoofprints
on the stale lithograph
we’ve come to call home
has bled insignificantly–
but not unnoticeably.
Yes, that’s correct. Hoofprints
have bled just enough
for this observer to comment.
Now, I’m aware that there are countless crackpots
who espouse the virtues of anti-vaxxers and birthers,
and this would be right up their alley.
However, I choose to take the high road.
A wise individual once told me
that the low road is the slipperiest,
because the maintenance people need to mop
more often than on the high one
(they have the kind of smelly chemical
floor cleaner that doesn’t dry as quickly
(and they’re always out of wet floor signs)).
in the middle of
this patriot’s sketchbook
provides a pure rendition
of what our ancestors
had once believed to be
a savior of some kind.
According to our current science,
the dinghy no longer ranks
among the ideal species
to be considered a deity,
but belief systems
have changed significantly
since that epoch. A list
of acceptable deities
may be found outside my office,
though not before tea time
(I despise holding class
before tea time).
I stuffed a pepper with no intention of eating or serving it, convinced that food inside other food is a sin. Not as big a sin as others, but you can’t just pick and choose the lighter heathen actions and pretend they don’t matter; if it’s a sin, you just don’t do it and that’s that. Nobody will absolve you of your sins, you’ll have to carry them with you until the moment your soul reintegrates with the cosmos, never again to occupy a physical body. Believe me, the more sins you commit, the longer it’ll take to reach the ultimate disembodiment touted by Buddhists for centuries. Most souls are slotted to occupy physical bodies for an indeterminate number of years, give or take a few millennia. Sins are responsible for piling on years, and practically everything is a sin. If there were no sins, most souls would be done within a few dozen lifetimes. But what fun would that be?