True Believers

True Believers

What I'm doing is something that a lot of people have tried to do, but they have met defeat from humanity.     —Sun Ra 

You're time traveling, space traveling. 

     Your vessel's your mother.

"Amen! Amen, brothers and sisters!"

Jesus sends your soul from safety

     of heaven into a wet womb.

          'That's the ticket!' as Jesus says.

He's been there. He has. He has.

     Rocks landing all around us,

     "But I just vacuumed!" says Mary.

If we time lapse past microbes,

          dinosaurs, giant sloth, it

shows outer space while it crashes

     around us or shows us the Big

Red Ball in our future absorbing 

the planets, swollen then collapsing

          into a dwarf or a black hole.

"The weather ain't been the same

     since we put rockets into space."

Never lie too much to the people,

now, Father, truth be told: many

people have been space traveling 

and some propose that we go out

from Earth's womb to outer space.

          The lie we just don't know

     that science can't say research 

isn't conclusive, so many worlds

and so many dimensions: when you

see a muon's speed, it's collapsed 

          from a wave to a particle.

"What we've got here is failure to 

          communicate," as the man says.

Space isn't empty. Once we're there,

we'll add to the black, but not much.

When Cezanne sees a line, the line

          is not a line, and when Kubrick

sees a line, the line is not a line. 

Neither are we Dante, Chaucer, Holtz 

to make borders as long as we have 

     to see to withstand no space, 

or not space while the void inside

               accepts our sacrifice.

Belief isn't about blues: it's the void

within, not without: stars aren't suns:

               they're billions of breaths.

     "You ain't been blue!" as Ella sings.

That Haystack telescope searching

out needles who've been hiding Jesus

     right alongside us all this time 

with God who won't show us his 

face but will give us his behind 

     but not what's behind it all: 

perhaps, different blouses to go

with silver crosses, cups, and golden

          wine that dress up altars while

     hiding closets and unmade beds.

"Don't leave me alone!" as Piaf sings.

Father, if you will push cathedra

seven inches to the left, we can open 

     that hatch behind your space

               and release more wafers.

[personae]