Found poem: in which we go for a walk and receive an Easter message.

Every once in a while–notably often when the mood is persistently askew, running dark against a bright and humid afternoon filled with illogical blossoms plethora-ing from every tree, harassing the bottomed mood with heavy beauty, blue and bright and daffodil and alley green and pinkwhite, among a non-revolutionary quietude unchallenged by lawn machines or holiday tantrum family screams, all noisemaking paused–a moment occurs where the air sort of splits, and someone steps out with a riddle.

On Saturday we saw this person twice, with a lot of time and moody beautiful neighbourhood in between. In the beginning he shouldered past, narrow, slanted, with pockets, irregular but pedestrian, and a bit young for the way he looked down on his beard and busily was alone. Then much later we saw him coming toward us straight as if knowing our conversation might still go nowhere while draining the day of those colours I mentioned above. The sidewalks in those blocks run politely in a line slightly sloped here and there and the light was dappled and everything was obviously staged.

P: There is that guy again. He is depressed.
Me: Hi.
Guy: Do you believe in Jesus?
P: No.
Me: Pardon?
P: Do we believe in Jesus.

Guy: He came to this town and he drove around in a car.
And there were these red angels of fire and they burst into bloom.
I saw it. And it was beautiful.
He’s real.
He made me strong when I was weak.
He’s a good healer.

P: Chemical imbalance.
Me: So?

Jesus came to this town and drove around in a car. And there were red angels of fire who burst into bloom. Every once in a while the air sort of splits and the voices say something that interrupts a moody afternoon. And if I may quote you, P, “Levity, baby.”

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About owl

Disordered, reckless, persevering.
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