It’s All One Thing #124: The Lone Stranger and the Death, Burial and Resurrection of the People’s Republic of America (alias the Constitution)

Banner design © TJ Edson

 

Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.
They found her in the garden with their prying satellite eyes
and they could see everything each tiny depression and ordinary orifice
and afterall even after all this time she was a beauty who would attract anyone
but nonetheless they soon had her bound up in their steely intrigue and reality chained
with originalist intent so she could hardly breathe and the people, the people were watching
the news come in but the news had become some thing else and somehow fact was spectacle
and all the circling opinions went down in a Mexican stand off massacre of the innocents
so of course they left her dangling a pawn in grubby corporate hands and the bankers
were keeping the accounts and we now know how that turns out (don’t we)
risk multiplying on all sides of an infinity of big deals and she, well, she
was sold out in every one and then when the whole thing blew up
in all our faces and she was spread eagled on the old double cross of crime
where no body has a chance to survive and then she was taken down and
quickly buried as far in the underground as possible in a cave by a hill
called the empty skull where the stone rolls across the entrance way and
the radiant path of the light can not reach and in that total darkness
the shell of the body, the form of love, the sleek beauty of her
burst forth a seed from the rich Earth and some thing
new was born from the old double cross and she found
her old friends beside the shore and appeared to others
hiking beside the road and filled their private places
with love and light so they couldn’t stop her from coming to them
as she walked through walls and ascended to heaven so she rose and
they rose with her and with her the whole world was new … new, new, new
                            like a little baby looking at you, new!

 

James Van Looy has been a fixture in Boston’s poetry venues since the 1970s. He is a member of Cosmic Spelunker Theater and has run poetry workshops for Boston area homeless people at Pine Street Inn and St. Francis House since 1992. His work appears weekly in Oddball Magazine.