Walking on 3 Legs
Gut full of fear.
Hand full of must:
Architecture
How to build an Ice
Cream Parlor in Hell
without melt-down or
freeze-up, doing no
injustice to the environ-
mentality of either?
A former President of
when I claimed what
we most need now is
an Ivory Tower.
With a moat—I insisted:
so as to Be Fooling with
IDEAS without Ogres of
Work Ethic& Required
Service Project reigning
on the parades.
Theoretically.
(I’m describing “School”
Mode here, not “Church”
or “State.” Talking Frames
of Minding & Attitude &
not the varieties of religious
& secular experience we
organize, insti-tuitionalize
and check-off.)
Allow, therefore, that in
the planetary scene, your
disaffected flagellants,
well-stuffed, smacking
their muzzy bellies in
parade, proud of such
novelties of the sublime,
such tink and tank &
tunk-a-tunk-tunk may,
merely may, Madame,
whip from themselves
a jovial hullabaloo
among the spheres.
This will make widows
wince. But fictive things
wink as they will. Wink
most when widows wince.
Common Sense on one hand.
No-Sense-At-All on the other.
And then the Non Sense that
might be said —I was going
to say—to bridge the 2.
Bridging collapses, conflates,
& confuses the heck out of
Ice Cream & Hell & what
god has rent asunder let
no myn bridge the
difference.
Couples courting used to
sleep together bundling in
the same bed with a board
between to maintain distinction
& save the appearances.
Sparking.
Sparking the gap.
Marriage of Ice Cream & Hell
& developing faculties of
discrimination upon
whom nothing is
flossed.
xxxooo, Presbyter
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