Final Revision: Mass
Mass
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven...
-Ophelia: act 1 scene 3
I
Walking into weight,
Bread and blood
Leave a taste of wood and woods
On the palate of a patron tongue.
An organ, like drums,
Beats into the holy ground.
Raising the faithful to fall
To become dolls within the shape
Of a crossed cathedral--
Small, difficult to create, yet
Easy to break.
II
Next to me a woman grows leaves
In homily. A dryad of the cross,
Screening being seasons.
First fall and prayer.
Second spring, as eyes
Become the color of perennial seeds.
Next summer, warmth becoming a leaking heat.
Finally winter, as she dream sleeps
Her pillow a stone.
She, like Ophelia,
falls to rock.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven...
-Ophelia: act 1 scene 3
I
Walking into weight,
Bread and blood
Leave a taste of wood and woods
On the palate of a patron tongue.
An organ, like drums,
Beats into the holy ground.
Raising the faithful to fall
To become dolls within the shape
Of a crossed cathedral--
Small, difficult to create, yet
Easy to break.
II
Next to me a woman grows leaves
In homily. A dryad of the cross,
Screening being seasons.
First fall and prayer.
Second spring, as eyes
Become the color of perennial seeds.
Next summer, warmth becoming a leaking heat.
Finally winter, as she dream sleeps
Her pillow a stone.
She, like Ophelia,
falls to rock.
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