Ginslais #024
George Gott

A dream of Paradise Alley.

Only an alley.

Not Plotinues reconstructing Christianity
for the sake of scholars.

Not the fantasy of Paris
that has exonerated our madness.

Not the computers of Seatlle
that are keeping us brilliant.

All morning I have thought of you
as you were
in the blackberry patches of children

As you are
in the blackberry patches of today.

As you will be
in the blackberry patches of eternity.

We also had stringbeans.

And califlowers.

We also had each other.

Without Plotinus.

Without the Seraphin of Paris.

Without the supernatural computers.

As we drifted into Paradise Alley
and made it our odyssey.

#6753

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