That Whip Returns

[Henry Secularpeturbations]

Connecticut 
If I remember well,
 between a Harvard hilltop haze
and a  filthy penthouse fit in madhouse New York, 
was a pleasant valley. 
No cares, no grief, no troubles, or vexations, in
Connecticut.

Money is the root of all evil. 
By Heaven! It can't buy you trust or account.  
Connecticut. 

During the middle ages space and time were organized
around religious values and their symbols. The church
spires, didn't split your brain, but pointing to
heaven and in Connecticut they dominated the city
spaces till the mighty insurance companies erected
their cathedrals of mortuary-table capitalism, and
cast the ancient institutions of hope and fear in the
shadows of giant tombstones built of debentures, glass
and steel. Long before that, space and time collapsed
and the beautiful symbols of Christian myth and fable
fell and crashed on the ground. 

Why did the  monks become capitalists under canonical
time?  

But in the symbolic world of space and time,
everything that happened was filled with magic and
mystery and miracle. Things disappeared and reappeared
by way of magic, miracle, or mystery. 

So, one day, a huge man with tattoos covering his
body, shows up and takes his own sister for a wife and
takes a house in the cemetery. So, the flowers fall
like snow from the sky and the old man speaks Latin
although he has never heard it spoken. So Mason dreams
in a language he has never heard.  As the children in
GR experience the war, the comings and goings of
adults, sometimes to heaven and sometimes to their
nightmares. Is all that is left of childish magic and
Christian space and time reduced to real estate,
money, and the mortuary tables in the sky? A few days
before the Towers were destroyed by those terrorist
pigs I visited my brother. He wroked in the WTC and he
lived directly across from the fire department not a
block away. My brother took me and friend to see the
old Greek church, that was also destroyed. In
preperation for my ironman I went to see the Greeks of
that old church dive for the cross. It was bitter
cold. But the magic in their eyes was warm and sunny.
Still not sure if I'll wear a wetsuit. 



 


--- Elainemmbell at aol.com wrote:
> Connecticut where church steeples pierce my brain
> the cold the quaint the cold quaint unaffordability
> of living here without a trust fund or a body
> politic
> Connecticut the grandest calendar state frozen in
> time:
> October just like every horror movie so so pretty
> 'cept the monster's just around the corner of South
> Main 
> 
> Elaine M.M. Bell, Writer
> (860) 523-9225
> 



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