easter.

Home, at the christian church,

swarmed by birdhouse echos,

all god’s fallen angels,

gather together here:

Duende comes from the 

Mother

Feeling and crying in your own mother’s tears

Not weighed down by joy 

Or sadness

The full-spirited letting go, a movement in

Jupiter’s Jazz

            Acknowledging, your birth 

The spray bottle births &

Your death 

Your death, in that moment, 

sitting perfectly 

                       perfectly 

still.     Her unborn life, inside the womb,

so perfectly

perfectly tender.


“O, Death, where is your sting?

O, Hades, where is your power?”

as

All god’s fallen angels

Return to the cult of the living.