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  • Sea monster, Leviathan, where is the grace?

    Sea monster, light monster, space monster, water bat out of hell, whale dream, Abraham mourning the fires of Jerusalem.

    Rembrandt thoughts on a Saturday, Camerados-all, conferring Cowbirds, not in force-feed or armed forces, but perforce in cameraderie saving; saving grace, perhaps, some hours for some of us. Those midnight narwhals in the soul's wail.

    We're so mortal, we venials, we yearn so for grace and clarity, even in our dumpster driven days.

    How will I be inscribed in the Big Book, come the Final Edit of Yom Kippur?

    How is it I am tasked to make good on a year, in a period of ten days?

    It has been pouring rain since the dawn made grey.

    Am I even in the Long List, to get into the book, to live another year?

    I am vacant as to my tasks.

    Oh, hell, if heaven exists, it has nothing to do with me.

    I'm heading for my blue raincoat and my blue socks and my shlubby shoes, the better to puddle-jump my atonement.

    (Photo South Florida, 2012)
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