Wednesday, March 18, 2009

The Feast of Saint Ignacio

‘…never underestimate the power of thought…’ said Dejesus. Witnessing his own folly the Witness fell to his knees in prayer. As today was the day before the feast of Saint Ignacio, a day of rejoicing and trumpeting trumpets, the Witness felt it his sworn duty to acknowledge his own foolishness. ‘…were I a better man I’d do my penitence, but as I am not, and even were I I wouldn’t give it a seconds’ thought, I will kneel and play jack the ace with this wee trumpeting fool, God bless and away with you, scat…!’ The congregants, laying bare their souls, rejoiced at the power of ace the jack, the Witness tossing the die against the church wall. ‘…seven gets you eleven…’ he yipped, ‘…no two words about it...’. A hush fell over the congregants, a man sitting on a cross breaking the silence ‘…make way for the king…!’. The Witness, having rolled double jacks, loudly said ‘…for the love of God man, clam up…’. ‘…what a sham, $27.50 per half-liter, a sad sate of affairs, sad indeed, awfully…’ said a man in a flatcar cap, the congregants clapping madly. ‘…God bless the blessed…’ sang out a woman with cob yellow teeth. His patience waning, Dejesus left in a huff, his coattails catching the wind like a topsail, the sun setting behind him like a burned out bonfire.

Things such as this happen more oft than oft; congregants and off-shiners having it out with one another, salting the earth with perturbations and lies. The Witnesses of the world, off-shiners and parishioners, queuing and filing abreast the common hurrah.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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