not to be confused with epiphany, apophony, or even apotheosis, you nonetheless came to me in a dream where we were improbably happy…
All these lingual pawns arrayed for something. Tug of the invisible? The inconsequence of a single human life?
Spin them out from their mother tongue
Prophesy the child
Salt marsh child
So reminiscent of your most beautiful
Isaiah 53:4-5 KJV Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.  But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
All my injunction are sinuous at 3 a.m. Will pay tomorrow for this singular inability to sleep now for the child is sick and I must watch over her.
Vigil, promise not to go.
After the helicopter crash I strove to get to him in time but not hard enough. Our progress was halted for hours on the bayou highway between Lake Charles and Baton Rouge by a jack-knifed produce truck. Seemingly no injuries besides the greens while in Alabama my father lay prone in the ICU, bandaged skull, sometimes blood seeping from the gauze dressing.
I never saw him like this. By the time we got there he had moved on to the next thing, loosing the coils of mortality and shaking off any talk of rehabilitation.
The undertaker told us that if we wanted to see him again in any respectable fashion (my words, not his) a hat would be required. So we spent most of a day darting in and out of haberdasheries looking for cowboy hats. He was a cowboy: he deserved a cowboy hat.
But the trick was size-the lingering signs of his fatal fall meant his head was swollen, maybe even still haloed in gauze? It had to be a proper 10 gallon, XL…I had begun to think I would fail him in this final quixotic endeavor when we found an eclectic store that had beach t’s, jeans, souvenirs, and…cowboy hats.
It was cream colored, the largest size. They cut it in half so that it appeared to recede effortlessly nto the pillow.
The boy-man on the Tarmac in Manaus, Brazil middle of the day on December 27, 1987 was wearing a Talking Heads t-shirt, and the girl inside the plane thought Talking Heads in the heart of the rainforest? Small world, then disembarked to a claustrophobic gift shop, lined as it was with fertility statues and shrunken heads. And jewelry made from river stones, each one small and beautiful and perfect: irreplaceable held in the palm
of the hand.
Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.