Food for Thought-Excommunicated Fragments


Now bequeathed to us,
The divine figment,
Standing against otherness,
Thirsting for self-evident,
Obvious memes,
Waiting to respond,
To the radical claims,
Of blank stares,
And nods untold,
While we wait,
Begging to find,
Excommunicated fragments,
Of the resurrected idea,
Asking the wise men,
“Is my life not a sign?”
Among the broken flaps,
Of a pitched tent,
A homemade,
Indwelling logos,
In the neighborhood,
Where drunken beatings,
Of an innocent child
Did occur,
In a place called here,
When the watch says now,
On a Good Friday,
Last Tuesday afternoon.

–Richard Bryant