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Psychology of Political-Economic Constitutions

Shalom, Aloha, Namaste

Kinship and Ego identity co-arise in socioeconomic health of mutual trust,
beginning in utero
swimming about in embryonic nutrition,
rather than active distrust
or more passive mistrust of the relatively unknown
yet somehow paranoic alien, Other.

The psychological fuel for polypathic political trust
is capacity for empathy,
which grows bicamerally within mutually subsidiary economies
of co-empathic positive intent,
co-arising nondually
in more ecstatic peaks of good beatific as beautifully edgy humor.

Empathy is a teachable,
because learnable,
listening and noticing skill,
stretching to include those aliens of self and other doubt,
occasionally even abusive terrorists within.

Mature co-empathic bicameral skills
are what we might call healthy mindfulness,
ecoconsciousness of Self as holonically syncing with Other,
intent toward mutual integrity,
trust,
love,
regard,
esteemed equivalence,
emerging from comprehension of our Original Intent
as regenerative cycling Earth’s SpaceTime fertile paradise
of Positive Deviance Psychology,
Political ChoiceMaking for Positive Nutrients,
Economically Cooperative WinWin TransActions,
deviant from vacuous dissonance and chaos,
random WinLose irrationality,
endless notnot polynomials of double-binding ambivalence.

Zero-centric mindfulness training
is not only the stuff of sit at home,
chant and drum meditation training and sensory experience
of nutritional sounds and tastes and sights and smells
with concomitant affective feelings
of resonant trust, dissonant mistrust, assonant distrust, hate, fear, anger
trusting things might be better
if I can just cathartically,
purgatively force myself and others to calm back down
from active distrust to at least more passive mistrust
about our continuing future lives together
in more peaceful silence of mutual breathing,
in as out.

While shared centering space and sounds can be useful
especially as household units,
and prior to important political and economic discernment events
processes
systemic networks of positive transitional evolutionary intent,
stretching mindfulness through each active loving moment
of each day and night
is optimally sustained only in a safe-risk environment
of political and economic cooperative nurturance,
where power competitions are normatively agreed to remain subservient
to greater cooperative nurturing,
Both-And powers of consensual discernment
to discover together highest and best political ecotherapy
and economic health optimization outcomes.

We are best within our democratically-inclusive empathic wheelhouse,
rather than the mutual immune fears of unknown
mysterious and unfortunate threats
and other competitive LeftBrain too-reductive dominance
in defining extended families of synergetic confluence,
requires (0)-centric disciplines of mindfulness
but these are more accurately embraced as Tao-disciplines
on behalf of Love as Nature’s KindTrust Expansion,
rather than suboptimizing political/economic goals
of Anger and Fear Management and self repression
of the static/stuck Panic-Terrorist within to feel better
managing damage control,
safety and security,
defensive mutual time out preferences,
restraint procedures
and economic investment boundary policies
to contain our LoseLose worst hunting and ungathering fears.

The Haudenosaunee definition of grace,
gratitude,
thanksgiving,
“the words that come before all else”
under ideal compost incubating circumstances
of mutual-mentoring
creative
Both-And political and economic cooperative discernment
might bilaterally nuance,
grace evolves the words that come before as after all else,
as above,
so below;
as Exterior Landscaped
so Interior Landscaped.

The belief that anthrocentrism is fundamental
to wise political and economic regenerative planning
for future generations,
is the Original Sin of fundamentalist self-idolatry.
Our capacities for healthy mutual co-empathic trust development
far exceed such a limited and limiting sense of our own personal,
familial,
and EarthTribal identity,
history of cooperative enculturation and intelligence.

Radical Revolutionary Earth (0)-Soul Centrism
is bicameral ecoconsciousness
of polypathic highest as healthiest beautiful minds and words
that come both before and after all else.

Our co-empathic democratic multicultural trust
in healthy cooperative futures begins this and each EarthLoving Eternal Day and Rich Composting Night,

Aloha, Shalom. Namaste.

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Designer Cabinet

The apparent President-elect
and her closest advisers
gather to build a Cabinet
that might survive four years of dwindling hope.

Thanks so much for being here.
Let’s begin with a time of silence,
gathering our listening voices and thoughts,
hopes and therapeutic vision….

As this time ends,
I’m wondering if someone might help me understand
why we have a Department of Health and Human Services.
Does this “and” imply a mandate to provide health services to non-humans?
Or, maybe we provide non-healthy human services?
Why not just Department of Human Health Services?

Well, that would be confusing.
Social services,
like help for abused and neglected kids,
seems rather far afield from health services.
In fact, some of those programs are known to cause
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Maybe Healthy Human Services?
And, why is the Department of Education
not part of our Healthy Human Services Department?
What are the advantages and disadvantages
of keeping education separate from “services”?

I’m not sure how healthy our educational services are right now.
Some of our students don’t even feel safe at school,
much less happy and healthy.

Doesn’t that adversely influence learning outcomes?
Anyway, your mentioning safety reminds me
of the Defense Department.
If the Defense Department’s mission
is not to protect our health and safety
then I”m not sure what we are defending, exactly.

Maybe we should collapse Defense
into a new Department of Healthy and Safe Human Services.

Ballistics and safety don’t sound right together to me.

And what about proactive and preventative strategies,
aren’t these really more offensive
than defensive measures
to retain safe environments?

What about the Department of Healthy Human Security Services?

Seems like security
and defense
and preventive measures
to avoid ugly violence and aggression
are already in that word “healthy.”
It would be an oxymoron
to have a Department of Healthy Human Insecurity Services,
wouldn’t it?

Yes, that sounds more like my high school experience.

Especially those bathrooms
and lethally swarming corridors between classes.

Wouldn’t the same concerns apply to all the economic,
housing,
and urban and rural development services?

And the Environmental Protection Agency?
That sounds like another health agenda to me.

Not strictly human services, though.

How about a Department of Non-Pathological Development Services?

Do you think we could deliver as advertised?

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Party Games

What are the odds that either Democratic or Republican leaders
will ever again remember how to host a Party?

Imagine these invitations we receive:
Dear Ms. Democrat,
Dear Mr. Republican,
Please come to our Leadership Party,
primarily to listen to us rant and rave
about why to avoid going to any of those other parties,
and how to avoid asking stupid primal questions,
too hypnotized by lust for anthrocentric hypnotic power games.

This is not my idea of recreation
or creative expression
or even entertainment
much less an improvement over Charades
wherein at least you can choose to listen
through all those less than excellent solutions:
not this
not that
not now
not later
not before.

Why is it not OK
to ask more resonant political and economic questions
at political and economic leadership parties?
Perhaps we could skip the depressing alcoholic punch,
try some THC,
while playing political and economic charades,
opening both-and bicamerality
where either-or had been the only strategic advantage
for monopoly winning outcomes.

I’m deep-bone tired of Musical Chairs
and Pin the Tail of responsibility
on the other party’s butt of sociopathic non-accountability.

Decent political parties don’t play
Spin the Porky Competition Bottle
all night behind smoke-filled self-engorging doors.
I would rather stay home
and continue losing Solitaire,
but thanks so much for not thinking of me
or my family
when you are designing your non-party,
rearranging our furnishings to help pay your mortgage
and send your kids to supremely private anthrocentric schools
teaching all those non-good BusinessAsUsual Monopoly questions.

No thanks for crappy party favors
and invitations to crashdump that Other Party
rather than enjoy a more cooperative civil right
to party hearty healthy happy
swimming together in one environmental pool;
not flying apart
with everyone striking other guests and hosts
like overstuffed piñatas.

What are the odds of conjoining our deeper Left-Right EcoBalancing Party,
my polypathic slice of co-operative poli-economic Paradise?

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Thomas The Jefferson’s Train

In my dream
Thomas Jefferson pops out a pilgrim
in The Jeffersons family,
proprietors of Chinese laundries
on the worst end of Main Street’s forested path
emerging toward Sanford Sons and Daughters Recycling Dump.

Here, midst polyglot stone soups
both informing and deforming,
occasionally reforming,
Thomas declares revolutionary interdependence with Earth’s dignity
as his senior honor’s thesis
read out boldly to collegial students
teaching cultural enrichment,
hoping for autonomic network surges
of WinWin political ecological outcomes.

Thomas, sometimes called Red behind his considerable backside,
discovered repurposing as economic thesis
and recovering recycling paths of golden intentions
as political antithesis
of terrorist fascist Christians
who had hoped to grow up
to join SuperJewish kibbutzisms
which was merely a more high-toned reference
to the pilgrim’s village recycling crashdump
of at-risk people looking for more inviting places
with sufficient space
for the entire upstairs-downstairs Jefferson Tribe
of Arabic DayDream stews
and stud muffins.

When Red heard young Thomas hoped to revive Taoist MidWays
all along pilgrim’s Main Street sonnets and plays
he prayed to Martha Washington
“My heart, my heart,
I could not survive such empire deconstruction!”

Somehow SuperHero Thomas the Jeffersonian Train
regenerated a multicultural chain of fools
to revolve this foxy precycling plant
into a MidWay forest of sweet and sour bodhisattva delights,
currency accepted up as down MidWay’s carnival street
in Jefferson’s NoShirtTicket-NoLaundryService busy mess
of humanity deforming Earth’s Rights
to procreate recreation of poli-econormic education,
schools of synchronic swimming Red Jeffersonian fish
remembering how to pilgrim surf thru interracial plowing seasons
to turn out hot melting stone soup feasts
of uniting nation futures
invested in laundering unhealthy wealth
until Thomas redreamed rainbow cream.

As Thomas this Jefferson Train
pulled away from wu wei pilgrimage station,
he called out to all repurposing Foxes,
Merry CoMessiahs to all nations
and states of recycling benighted dreams.

Now there’s a good night’s sleep
you’ll never address backward inside-out again.

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Holy StandUp Matters

In April of this year I began preparing a new organic gardening patch,
planning to have it ready for next year’s expansion from a too-small garden
in front of my recently acquired Connecticut Cape Cod home.

I have neighbors toward southern exposure and behind,
between the Thames River and my sunset-facing backyard.

Here, next to an old, but still purposeful,
forest green fresh-painted deck
lies a mix of some rich dark soil
and some topsoil with unpromising smears of gravel stones
scraped off a dirt driveway
that turned to mud when wet
before I installed a pressed gravel drive last month.

Anyway,
next to the repurposed green deck
lies my new garden incubation project.

I rescued my deck floor last fall
from the bowels of a thorny bramble mountain,
some woody stalks obscenely pushing between heavy 2×6 planks,
now upper faced with little green stubs
since I rolled my lavish green porch paint.
But, the old railing around three sides was beyond rescue.
No longer with us, I’m sorry to say.

A sun exposed potential spot for a garden
emerged from my bramble mountain on the south side of the slightly raised deck,
about eight yards long on each of three sides.
I laid out my cardboard boxes,
stored in the grotesquely damp basement since I finished unpacking
last fall.
After soaking the cardboard,
I covered it with a combination of compost,
top soil harvested from elsewhere on this property,
and peat moss.
Then I spread four to six inches of leaves over all that.

While I wait for this to transform into healthy nutritional soil,
I have been religiously peeing on the leaves.

At first I only reenacted this baptismal ritual under cover of night,
not so much out of modesty
as motivated by kindness,
as the sight of the elderly pasty white man who just moved in next door
outside exposing his peeing penis
might offend fragile first impressions of a fairly sane person
who might be expected to behave more reliably
with regard to neighborly decorum
and more traditional liturgical events.

More recently I started peeing in a yogurt container by daylight,
huddled up against the back porch door
where at least only my backside could ever become visible
to only the backside neighbor, so to speak,
who seems to be something of an ass.
But then, who isn’t?
Then I take my yogurt cup of warm pee
and toss it out across the leaves blanketing my next-year garden plot.

This ritual feels generous,
like sprinkling my soil with nutritional holy water,
of which I do have some, but far less,
yet perhaps a bit too much,
experience as a seminarian some decades ago.
Ah yes,
memories of peeing with the other would-be angels.

Now I am concerned that I could use a great deal more urine
for my organic farming purposes.
Perhaps I should come out of my yogurt closet,
send out a note to my nearby neighbors:

“Hi. Just want to invite you to come over and pee
on the leaf-covered triangular spot
next to the south side of my deck,
anytime of day or night you wish.
Feel free to include your pets.
Make it a family destination if you wish.
In return for your investment,
I will probably have tomatoes,
potatoes,
cucumbers,
and leeks (no pun intended)
to share,
not this season,
but next.
Maybe some extra peas too.
OK, I’m gonna’ stop now.”

“The neighborhood that pees together,
eats together.
So, come on,
please don’t leave me standing outside,
peeing alone,
preparing for next year’s yummy harvest.”

So I did.
This invitation has not generated the enthusiastic response I was imagining,
with neighborhood families dropping in
to drop off their deposits
for our neighborhood development project.
But,
it did provoke my backyard neighbor
to jam a note into my otherwise vacant mailbox:

“You mentioned,
among your commitments to recycling and repurposing,
that you are an Organ Donor.
I certainly do hope whoever gets those organic parts
has a good harvest no later than next year.
Sooner is better.”

Hmmm….
Now, how could we compost our collective humanure?

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Families That Stay Together

The family that bathes together
stays together
until every mindbody smells better together.

Is that like
biology is ecological timing,
hunting healthy polymorphic synergy?

Perhaps.
If yes, it loses something in abstraction.
If no, you might need to stay in your bath a bit longer,
and extend your polycultural definition of family.

Is that like
baptism from monocultural ego identity
into permacultural EarthTribe individuation
thru rainbow colors of TransParent thru BlackHole
DiPolar CoArising Temporal EcoConscious Presence?

Only when baptism
merges a global extended family
immersing into EarthTribe’s Solidarity Revolution,
haunted by Earth’s nutritional DNA/RNA mutuality memories
of polypathic Ego/Echo BiCameral ReIterative Synergy.

Bathing with our Exterior Landscapes
as we would have Earth Goddess and SunGod
continue TransParently eco-mentoring
our Interior EgoLandscapes.

How about,
all souls bathe together
stay together
until every form of nature’s regenesis
smells and looks
tastes and feels and sings thru prime crystal revolving light,
harmonic dialects of family fragrances,
together?

It sounds pretty enough,
but I still don’t think it smells deep rich composted
quite enough for EarthTribe’s baptism
into Great Transitions of post-climatic full-blending octave fragrances
of time as light’s perfume of regenerative choice.

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EarthTribe’s Climate Manifesto

We are that we are becoming together.

To and for
and with
each embryonic-creation,
and each ego’s habitat and mindbody properties,
tools and information,
functional frequencies of healthiest is best use,
therefore economically and politically highest,
on a scale from lead through gold.

Ego lead-identity,
with BiCameral Balanced EcoConscious ZeroZeny Soul
emerges Eco’s GoldLogical Rule.

To get our Lead out
of Golden alchemical Rules of EcoLogic
is to replace Ego MindBody incarnating fearful angry identity dominance
with EarthTribe DNA/RNA EcoPolitical Solidarity.

WildRobbering allies
Brezsny Breezing research cooperative assistants
in Earth’s Truth as Beauty Lab,
associate small LeftBrain dominant PlanB Ego-Deduction
of Earth’s Paranoid SunGod
to re-associate CoArising NonDual Right Brain PlanA,
EcoLogical ProNoic-noetic
bilateral-temporally revolving Gaia,
4-seasoned with Her regenerative wisdom Story,
EcoLogic
intelligent growth and decay nutritional information
bicameral DNA-fractal confluence
surrounded by commodifying
domesticating dissonant restraints
of Earth’s climatic nature,
culturing nurture,
Gaia’s Creation Story
as Ego’s self-imaged embryonic enculturation history,
sending messages out toward future ecotherapeutic regenerators,
turning leaded Ego’s
toward EcoEgo Balance,
BiCameral Golden Rules and Ratios,
Elixir SquareRooting fractal-zero primal functions
of DNA/RNA Revolutionary Solidarity,
heat as light
cold as night
neural growth prime mindbody informational function,
Golden Rule of Time’s Great Transitional UnFolding.

Golden Proportion life prevails
or Time’s leaded enculturation fails.

We are a LeftBrain dominant people,
learning to measure our co-empathic potentiated biological side,
our bicameral mindbody ecosystems,
with both endo- and ecto-symbiotic permaculture equivalency
of design and revolutionary regenerative purpose.

We are EcoGestalt ReVolutionary Events,
both continuous and discontinuous
CoMemories conjoining one universal holonic,
ecologically systemic,
cooperatively political and economic
EarthTribe,
regenerating rich deep norms,
dense polycultural resolutions,
originators, designers of Time’s dialectic measures,
emerging toward (0)Riginal PolyNomial Balancing Intent
with Poly(0)MegaPathic EnCulturing Health-Praxis,
in revolutionary solidarity with all RNA thru DNA
syntax-fractal BioSpeciating Open EcoEarthSystem Designers
of each EarthDay.

We are bicameral ecoconscious revolutions
growing in evolutionary continuity
thru resonant confluence
within as without Left-as-Right MindBody
balancing cooperative incorporated incarnated
polypathic harmonies,
arias,
each Ego singing our unique dialect
of one Permaculture Opera,
a Golden Creation Story of LeadasDread Climatic Transitional Events.

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Earth’s Final Revolutionary Answer

A society
culture
religion
humane species
forgetting,
or more likely under-valuing,
how to regeneratively suffer loss
may never have learned to face our universal fear of death
as a badge of permaculturing respect,
dignity through suffering sacred absence
where once we knew nondual co-arising relational life
together incarnate.

In response to loss of love’s opportunity for further cultivation,
incarnation of life’s positives and double-negative equivalencies
of loss to lose ego death’s ubiquitous omnipotence,
we could reverse our Interior and Exterior Climate feedback loops,
turn down our YangLeft competition
another half a notnot notch,
where loss to EgoDeath equals WinWin
for society
for internal and external cultural climates
for reconnecting timeless Earth’s revolving tribal love
to death’s dualdark TransParent BiLateral CoGravitational Primal Time
of EcoConsciousness
as SelfAwareness of Light’s CoArising NonDual ReVolution.

An absence of integrative dignified death culture,
mourning process for love’s loss,
reflects a lack of humor
for Earth’s lively lovely enculturation
of regenerative health and beauty,
goodness,
Tao (0)-Balanced Left/Rightness,
where Tao begets co-gravitating dualdark exformation,
dipolar light = CommonsSquared = PrimeEulerianUnitarian-Integral Function.

Failure to celebrate life
emerging as light’s co-investment in love,
merging normatively equivalent to denying death’s dark ultimatum,
represses light’s co-arising dualdark CoPresence.

Ego,
each AnthroNature,
emerges bicamerally embryonic from warm-heated light,
as each SuperEco/Ego
each Earth(0)-Balanced DNA/RNA fueled cell
speaking intergenerational fertility,
memories of eternally timeless love unfolding,
folding,
refolding climates
toward prefolding Post-BiCameral Earth (0)-centric DiPolar
HumanConsciousness.

Each Ego loss
a sacred loss from Earth’s pay-it-forward evolutionary economy;
each Earth gain
a win for confluent cooperative EarthTribe future love,
healthier global culture
sharing a natural-religious sensory awareness
of ironic double-negative nondual WinWin humor,
ProGenitors joining our DNA-designed celebration of life
as notnot death’s grand eulogy
for Internal/External Climate TaoBalance.

We each live on in loving light
or not so much,
depending somewhat on the dignity we hold
for each other’s natural right to live and die gracefully,
with freedom
with gratitude for this climatic great transition,
toward our cooperative beloved climaxing
(0)Mega Point.

Cultural wounds of enslaving others
stretch a profound investment in basic integrity
of nature’s evolutionary intent,
feeds on evolution as competitive survival of the mightiest wealth,
rather than revolutionary health as cooperative thrival
of our self-optimizing EarthBalanced PostMillennial ReGeneration.

Springing strong-rooted sense of cooperative humor,
co-arising nondually throughout each love-filled feisty day and embracing night
of generation’s future
living toward climatic religioning conscientific balance
of Tao’s bilateral bicameral Time,
in which incarnation explicates restraint on Ego’s imagined freedoms
of ownership and power
as disincarnation implicates freedom of Earth’s diastatic,
nutritiously universal EcoConsciousness
of co-arising, co-present light
revolving day into dualdark night
of Queen Shabbat
as GrandMother Moon’s warm polycultural light.

It is this dream of death
inviting future’s incarnate life,
regenerating Earth’s Tribal Balance,
that understories each moment’s daytime active life,
backdrop aria
bookending love’s grand climatic opera;
ReGeneration Story.

What our global political and economic climate could most invest,
in this PostMillennial Moment,
is integral religious sense of Allah’s zen-scientific humor,
and lack of terrifying intent.

May truth in each repose
bring eternally diastatic bliss,
evolving rich nutrition
for future smiling contented
political and economic peace
with justice for this replete Universal PolyCulture,
EarthTribal ReGenerations,
Internal as External (0)Soul ReIncarnations of Time’s Eternal Light;
Active Love
CoOperative DiPolar CoArising Networks
of DualDark DiaStatic Potentiality
(O)Virginal WinWin EcoLogical Integrity’s Intent.

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Trees Rooting Me

Last Autumn we invested in a 0.5 acre
of Mother Earth’s aria,
as sung to Thames River swell and tide,
New England new sprouting this our virgin spring wedding
with this home place,
space of grace.

My urgent first task, now largely complete,
was to partner with the trees and ornamentals,
in Bodhisattva warrior solidarity
with human racing family co-arising co-respiring trees,
counter-revolutioning against upstart thorny opportunistic brambles,
wild grape vines
reaching over all our 0.5 arias of CoBreathing Allies
in brambly weedpatch ways.

I usually tip toward recessive underdogs
and creation stories,
as these are far too often disempowered PostMillennial Occupiers,
these brambles and vines flirting with monoculturing graves
of gracious Trees, and other beings,
draping together to suffocate
0.5 decomposing acres of hungry thorns and briars
waiting for Bodhisattva SuperWarrior Me
to saw and chop and hack,
and sometimes shamelessly slash and smack,
invading over-populating brambly trends
of ivy towering thorns
with empire-building designs
embedding my delightful flesh.

Now, first spring posing tree re-liberation,
leaves speaking young embryonic appreciation,
gentle thank yous opening to more buoyant sunrise,
draped in fallen sins of past neglect,
daring me to turn my well-armed back,
to continue this solidarity with our still-enslaved neighboring trees,
gasping for strength to breathe
through coils of parasitic woody stinging strikes,
blood-thirsty for revenge
snaking dense networked vines
stretching down valley toward river source
of water’s satisfying nutritious displays,
more generous than I would prefer,
taking no sides in this small revolution
within Earth’s 0.5 arias
of stress-afflicted trees.

Without sufficient humility
I more resemble thorny brambles
than wise Elder Trees
rooting through compost-drenched systems
deep down to River’s sacred bed,
rising to meet Full Moon nights of bright.

Yet, in self-defense,
and defense of trees and ornamentals,
I prize our diversity and harmonic balance;
not so much looking for a free ride
up to sun’s commingling paradise.

Now free to speak their new spring intentions,
my neighbor trees, allies,
co-inhabitors of 0.5 Earth acres,
remind me to do my best with them,
try to follow their strong-rooted commingling example,
and avoid proliferating over-populated competitions
for River’s water
and SunGod’s co-arising light.

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Love With Benefits

Could you love
an old white redneck
with HIV,
inhaling too much medicine?

Could you love him
if he were able to listen
without judging,
but commiserating,
curious about nuances,
finding dark humor
transcending rumors
of ego’s timorous tumors
and climatic tremblers?

Could you love a sad house-bound poet,
with too many kids of vulnerable colors,
interracially married but intergenerationally separated,
haunted by recurring adoption nightmares?
Abandonment
follows suffocation,
nutritional neglect,
drowning embryonic surf,
tidal pools propelling salty dissonant dark love,
organic compost fueling embryos toward light.

Could you love him
if he could know what you feel,
and why
and how,
and when,
and where we might care to hear
and feel and dance and breathe
this sacred opera again?

Could you love simplicity
if delivered with truer festivity?

Could you love
us becoming right now?

Could we love
exchanging anger management
for love’s cooperative opportunities?

Could you love
these ones you are already
miraculously with?

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