Academic journal article Field

Trailing Clouds of Glory

Academic journal article Field

Trailing Clouds of Glory

Article excerpt

Even though I'm an immigrant,

the angel with the flaming sword seems fine with me.

He unhooks the velvet rope. He ushers me into the club.

Some activity in the mosh pit, a banquet here, a panhandler there,

a gray curtain drawn down over the infinitely curving lunette,

Jupiter in its crescent phase, huge,

a vista of a waterfall, with a rainbow in the spray,

a few desultory orgies, a billboard

of the snub-nosed electric car of the future -

the inside is exactly the same as the outside,

down to the m.c. in the yellow spats.

So why the angel with the flaming sword

bringing in the sheep and waving away the goats,

and the men with the binoculars,

elbows resting on the roll bars of jeeps,

peering into the desert? There is a border,

but it is not fixed, it wavers, it shimmies, it rises

and plunges into the unimaginable seventh dimension

before erupting in a field of Dakota corn. On the F train

to Manhattan yesterday, I sat across

from a family threesome Guatemalan by the look of them -

delicate and archaic and Mayan -

and obviously undocumented to the bone. …

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