22 January 2015


Crusade, let me tell you what I see: A man, a tall man bent on his knees weeping

a space

without delineation in solitude within a mob

the bell rings,

the chador whisps

voices whir

are you missing something?  don't you see what's going on?  they're talking to the space - the space they think is outside but is more likely inside because there's nothing outside except the seething anger and hatred exchanged for not accepting that which lingers on the inside as something that exists on the outside.

but mention this to religionists and you'll have a fight on your hands.

mention this to mystics and you'll have commotion to

deal with

try to convince him that ivory doesn't harbor any metaphysical properties or

the rabbit's foot is simply a severed paw

try to dissuade her of the belief that feeding her husband whale blubber will increase his virility

and imagine why there's a wailing wall - melancholy of remembering loss...

mention this incredulity to the witch doctor and a doll will be made in your honor that will ceremoniously be stuck with pins.

or the religious fanatic will bomb your clinic or your place of business
(or praise in idolatry worship the celebrity - a fine line, no?) 

have you got a headache, Fatwa?

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