Look down. Heavier now. Onus of observable spectrums. A woman’s body resounds. It waxes. It wanes. It hoards ammunition. It turns into something unrecognizable. O alas. My lights are not what they are monitored to bide in. They are mercantile and elegant prey. Subsist on the inward motion of laborious practices. Genitalia. Are you men or women hiding behind screens, behind veils. A stricter practice. And the Arab inside is a kind of knight in armor or old Protestant crawling to get into secondary light. Rides a secret channel not unlike a flashlight beams its arrogant ray upon you. Hide, hide from your own lipsticked face. Then consider what it is you recoil from. Politics if such a hinge exists in a random universe. Alive & still. Not to depress my native eyeballs but understand how such a game exists called back to roost already warmed over nihilism. Get up & out or spake as the male Messiah doth. Back again to bid time trumpet you are already born and dead Hosha’na! (“save us”). Compassion hath a note in here. What’s wrong to take a hand shake a hand & kiss the lady when she’s down. On the other hand: morbid, oblique, tired of waiting for guns to go off (please never go off). Writing you from a foxhole way down under under a moonless desert. Would-be lady scholar get your cerebrum out here. Respond or something to that effect what means are required what tableaux vivants. What are the taboos around here? Do not swear at the higher powers & keep your suffering to yourself. Are you cohabited with desire to change a version of the world? Seasonal displays are mounted. I heard Frankie Boy warbling in a lobby in Detroit decked with pine & pink satin bows. I heard high soprano “Noel notes” careening down an even longer corridor like a scream. The language turned harsh. Neighbors light a menorah. The newspaper says Muslims are on the move and we do not care as a populace, “to discuss religion.” I meant but it’s a threat but it’s a fret but confusion is like the street. It’s a wrecker, America: been out there lately?