Something Solid: Miscellaneous Sonnets: Pride (in the name of love)
The buildings are the road, voyage, reason.
The spirit you think is there, in architecture, is there,
along with other spirits, namely, spirits
hewn into coexisting nature, creating a sublime sense of
balance. Apotheosis of coexistences.
The collection of buildings here is resonant— shudders,
palpitates, resonates. Where & how you get touched
is the enchantment variable. It could be Fayette Street (two churches),
City Hall in May, Butler Pike, even the lunar landing
lunacy of Dekalb Pike. The road you travel on is into the cosmos.
This is it— my Philadelphia. The buildings say everything.
What I say now is reason again, to bring us
roundabout— the buildings are the road.
What is really in the cosmos remains the mystery.
***attached image of Calvary Episcopal Church, Fayette Street, Conshohocken***
Adam Fieled (Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania): "Veronica Yeates"
& as a scorching. to fit in a kind of
cubby-hole. a refresher course in the art
of proposition. but only to scope out
a spectacle. derived. from a kind of theater
of cruelty. you threaten me with death, or
death-in-pornography. the brain floats
skywards. as the propellors turn. always,
with great rapidity. confining curses. the sewer
seeds itself up. you are the screen. means it.
you come, completely colored. and as a scorching
not contained between your pat and hoots
For God to be God
God has to be something else
the manifestation of a center point
of perfectly well-rounded goodness
incorrigibly manning the ambiguous
affirming all sides of every equation
responsive both personally, impersonally
conscious and unconscious
but then, being there and not somewhere else
the Ontological Argument falls flat
God’s not God
for God to be God
Your middle: tongue
(hers), man (me), riding
together, I bitch (middle’s
middle). I tongue man
you, her, spacious, it, of
you, all of us, can’t feel
a nothing, I can’t. Not
of this, of you, of her,
of all of this riding, in
what looks big, black,
has tongue-room. I
can’t feel a thing. I feel
nothing of bigness, black
fur interior her you. Ride.
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