in the singing place I saw the most battered hearts of my generation

sprung free from madness

by starving half-naked angels

and a bloody fix

they knew then that they didn’t have to do anything else

to prove to anyone else in the universe that they should be loved

they stopped PTSDing

and allowed themselves to be covered over with the clean white e-paper of

tripple-affirmation

they rose up in the supernatural darkness

to copy the syntax

of the ultimate request

they bent down with fearful symmetry and railed against moloch

resisting much

obeying much

they tragicocated against all skin-oppression

class-injustice

and schemified-violence

overtaken with sudden loves

they dreamed of adorations and illuminations

containing multitudes of the oppressed

they fell down before the throne of the tyger and the lamb

oh, you, you you, you beautiful, gorgeous dredged-up-wrecks,

I am with you, you re-made hearts, your best-hammered minds

I am with you in your imperfectications and in your insecuritudes,

I am with you in your nightly brokenry and your daily hallucinations,

I am with you in San Francisco, in Rome, in Beijing, in Johannesburg, in Mumbai and in Managua

as you walk dripping with alien goodness

out of a bright river into a numinous redempticon

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