perhaps, it was an angel appearing briefly in the low
light to bear witness to this rippling of fields in the hip.
by this, I learn something about power— about the
earth & weariness of my heart; about faith & spiritual
innocence playing before my shut eyes as my duty of
watchman & priest; as if, there was a garden path of the
spirit he was drawing me in to hear the visions of the
lord about world powers & their weaknesses. to prove I
saw him, I stand in the spot where he stood, breaking
the music supplied by these brown toads & crickets
under grass; my body feeling for an instant, an electric
charge in the air —his breath— heavy upon my head,
draping me with a damp, tingling garment of goose
bumps & burdens— almost as if, I should fall to the
ground; the anointing washing away, the withstanding in
my bones
