so why are you standing there, she said

fallen angels

are like the open windows of a mortuary

like the eyes of cows

like the skeletons of birds

like falling airplanes

like flies on the lungs of fallen soldiers

like strings of autumn rain

that tie lips with a flight of birds

i go through cycles. too many ins and outs of faith and doubt. there are days when i almost believe, like i believed when i was a child, and the world had an order to it, and the nature of things made sense because everything could be explained by god or the lack of god. and now, the dance of faith and doubt is so much more than a straight line, so much harder than the past ease of one foot in front of the other.

|---------------|
|---knowledge---|
|---------------|
|-----belief----|
|---------------|
|--faith faith--|
|---------------|
|-doubt - faith-|
|---------------|
|-faith - doubt-|
|---------------|
|--doubt doubt--|
|---------------|
|---disbelief---|
|---------------|
|-----fear------|
|---------------|

and life is just a bounce around of up and down. so i waver, and the wavering becomes the rhythm of my days. some days it really is like i'm a wavelength, and can only be on one rung at a time, other days, i'm particular... and parts of me are all over the rungs at the same time. they say the glory of god is intelligence, in other words, light and truth. so intelligence is light and truth. so they say. perhaps that's why we can't decide on the nature of light. there's some subatomic consciousness that lets it discern itself, or exist differently, depending on circumstance. i don't know enough of these things to warrant discussing them.

What will happen to you now, she said,

they made you a burning dress.

They made me a burning dress, I said. I know.

So why are you standing there, she said,

you've got to be careful.

You know what a burning dress is, don't you?

I know, I said, but I don't know

how to be careful.

The smell of that perfume confuses me.

I said to her, No one has to agree with me, 

I don't believe in Greek tragedies.

But the dress, she said, the dress is on fire.

What are you saying, I shouted,

what are you saying?

I'm not wearing a dress at all, 

what's burning is me.