Shantih Journal 2.1 - Page 62

Boy Saint peter laberge In the beginning, we were one blood. Then the body, stem of thorns, grew its disagreement from the inside out. Like all biblical stories, it begins with a simple thorn, a natural secret the body kept from itself. I open the sealed envelope: everything in the sky folded, gathered into one body. Shoulders, the tightness of my mouth. Wounded bird. Lightning fluttering between two boys who want to be in a basement in a town they dreamt up. Lightning in cities and towns I’ve never been to, never heard of. I am positive. I am not. I make a moon with sugar and a damp thumb. A couple of towns over I am born and r •‰½ΙΈΈ$…΄Ή½ΠΈ9½ΠΑ½Ν₯Ρ₯Ω”)ΥΉΡ₯°$Ν…δ₯ΠΈUΉΡ₯°$Ρ…ΝΡ”₯ΠΈ ½έ‘₯•…Ή‘₯”)₯Έ‰½‘₯•Μ±₯­”Ρ‘₯́…Ή‘½»ŠeЁ‘½ΝΠ°•α•ΑΠ)½ΈΩ½₯”΅•ΝΝ…•ΜΡ‘•₯ȁ΅½Ρ‘•ΊΑ±…δΡΌ­••ΐ)…±₯Ω”ΈQ‘•δ‘Ι•Ν́ѼΙ₯•Ω”₯Έ‘Υɍ‘•ΜΈ%ΉΝ₯‘”)‰±…¬΅½½ΉΜΈ ±½ΡΡ•΅½ΥЁ‘…εΜΈM•Α…Ι…Ρ”™Ι½΄™…”°)Α½ΝΡ‘Υ΅½Ύё½ΙΈΈ ½‘䁱₯ΕΥ•™…Ρ₯½ΈΈ$‘Ι•…΄)…‰½ΥЁ…±Ρ…ȁ‰½έ₯Έ₯Ι½Ή•Ν••ΙΝՍ­•ΘΝΥ₯ΡΜ)Α•­₯Ήœ•… ½Ρ‘•Θ±₯­”Νέ…±±½έ́ݑ•Έ‘…Ι•Έ ½εΜ(ΨΘ