PANDEMIC

KIRKLAND GALLERY
SK
Cambridge, MA

A Ballad for All: A Peculiar Passion Purgatory
A Peculiar Passion Purgatory


A taxonomy of humans,
has been fabricated;
that which terminates love,
and has created hatred.


A refraction that is but a piece of coal;
it does not borrow.
A ghost of a dying ember,
instead of a rainbow.


The Books have brought about a mask;
antagonism bedazzled with embrace.
A contradiction: we like you but
you must know your place.


I can not love you because --
Love cannot penetrate,
a self defined borderline.
I lost my love to the threshold.


It is not just The Books
that dispose illusive difference,
but the cerebral chemicals
out of hand but given reverence.


Normality is defined
and placed on a pedestal.
An aberrant that defies,
is an insect under a crop duster.


Doomed for life,
stepped and sprayed on.
Or against your will
dragged along like a pawn.


You gamble;
two chips of peace
or joy or whatever you please.
Surpassing the blackjack is all you receive.


And then just like White smoke;
potassium chlorate and a pine resin,
a bittersweet marriage,
of hell and heaven.


And when you see it,
They are elected,
a golden someone,
but who selected?


I propose a purgatory,
for the in between.
If you are unable to pass,
a gateway evergreen.


Neutral and devoid
of expectation;
eclipsed by the fenestration,
light penetrates this nation.


A purgatory of symmetry,
rhyme, rhythm, and meter;
a romantic occult pattern,
underlies and equalizes the anomalous pieces.


Amalgamated objects,
celebrated, unneutralized.
Kept as they are,
placed to unite, uncircumscribed.


Carpet becomes loom and loom becomes carpet;
roles are inverted and reverted.
A piece is no longer hammered into shape,
but outlined shaped markers pacify the disconcerted.


This nonpartisan,
tips the scales,
to unravel what has been defined
as grail.