Utraquism
Sameness, plaid, plain
Repetitive, past due.
Change.
Newness, just getting started,
The unfamiliar, the surprise,
Opposite of paleo:
Neoism.

There’s no true newness
In renewing traditions.
If we as a people are called to accept change,
Then such gatherings and conventions as church
Should ponder anew
The possibilities of conforming
To accepting that a deity like the Holy Spirit
Cannot be contained to a breviary
Or even within walls for that matter.
I’m not necessarily promoting any sort of evangelism,
But elevating ecumenism
And a grand renewal of what it means
For those confined to the guilt and shame
That can come from church catechism, church magisterium,
Church this-and-that
To have their own way of approaching spirituality.
Let’s all be Richard Rohrs and St. Francises,
Not rebuilding a church,
But disassembling a building
That separates believers of faith.
If we are all friends,
Why do we hide behind walls?
Can we not bear
What other brethren might believe?
Let’s combust the world,
Scorching sameness,
Fueling newness.

I wish these puffs were
Eked from a fog machine.
It's not a levitation of battle clouds
From cannons, from a precipitation forecast.
This is another battle-fog:
One composed of vape and cigarette smoke.
It hurts on the inside,
But at least one is at ease
From that troublesome and possibly tedious
Consumer, their complaints with no calm resolution
And no sense.
The scattered and randomized number
Of cigarettes fallen
Is none of my business
But business' business.

Whenever I am content
Or am feeling content,
There’s always an air ready
To brush away or undo my content,
Just as a wrapper of gifts
Witnesses her efforts to conceal shredded
By the recipient.

I turn the lights off, you turn them back on.
I close the refrigerator door, you open it back up.
I return items to their original places, you move them.
I leave the toilet seat up, you fold it back down.
I vacuum the carpets, you immediately imprint your feet where I stopped.
I lock the door, you unlock it.
I turn the TV off, you turn it back on.
I recycle the newspaper, you bring it back out.
I make dinner, you order takeout.
I unplug, you plug back in.
I sketch, you erase.
I say one thing, you argue against it.
Today, nothing happened.