i don’t have a brother he was me

The palest lavender is “Guardian Angel,”

At the crucifixion’s liturgy, I see the Tent of Meeting pierced and purged

speak in scent. text in fungi. laugh in pollen and seldom stray from meditation.

His servants pulled him through the postern gate To ride in shadows to a waiting ship

an instant sharp pain somewhere near the heart and sudden ringing in the ear when no bell tolls