NIGRA SUM SED FORMOSA

The queen of the South will rise up in the judgment with this generation and condemn it,
for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon;
and indeed a greater than Solomon is here.

Matthew 12:42

She materializes
from ancient Marib and the Horn of Africa
to fulfill final prophecy:

Upping the ante of Solomon’s triple six
Erythrean Makkeda/Bilquis appears, manifests, descends
sweeps in amidst clouds of frankincense:
immaculate golden sandstorm
crossing over our threshold
having passed through Arabia
in her palanquin;
with retinue of camels and courtiers
spices and incense
invading, bursting into the Baroque,

King George II freaks out:
how to handle her—
arriving unannounced
in England in 1749 . . .
But Sheba is beatific
under a towering white wig,
enveloped in silk brocade;
Lutheran angels uphold her trailing gown…

Handel, inspired, knows what to do.

Saba: We come to the seventh day
we enter her rest—
a greater than Solomon has arrived.

PROMPT 28: write a poem that involves music at an event of some kind.

no one can paint God/roman guards convulsing or very drunk/corpse pallor belies presence of resurrection life/Jesus is Lord/like a bad dream/Christ rises to frighten liberal atheists/science-based, rules-based/Jesus is Lord/or is he a floating clown?/look, mom—no hands!/weird liminal landscape/no trees, no nature/massive stone/solar-lunar penumbra/arterial robes/wounds/christians suck/ultimate apparition/Jesus is Lord/falling down VS. rising up/Romans on angel dust/outer space brought near/win some lose some/where are His apostles?/Jesus is Lord/read Romans, read Hebrews/centuries of religious war/all sins and blasphemies shall be forgiven/it’s just Mithraism/forgive them they know not what they do/it’s just a mystery cult/Jesus is lord/our father which art in heaven/satan falls from heaven like lightning/all power is given unto me/flying spaghetti monster/religion is a crutch for the weak/behold I am alive forevermore, amen

Isenheim Altarpiece
M.  Grünewald, 1512

PROMPT 27: write your own poem that describes a detail in a  painting, and that begins with a grand, declarative statement.

A sign is planted bravely on your grass
Informing those of us who live as brutes
That tolerance abounds within your class
And that we don’t possess your virtuous fruits.
But whether you proclaim by sign or flag
Or misbegotten sticker on your car,
We note you fail to notice that you brag;
And make yourself a moral commissar.
Pride is prideful—all arrogance conceit.
Projecting your neurosis has grown old . . .
We laugh at you, not with you. Your deceit,
Ungrasped by you, is easy to behold.
The barren tree you planted in your pride
Informs the world you’ve failed to take God’s side.

PROMPT 26:

A traditional sonnet has a strict meter and rhyme scheme.
Try your hand at a sonnet – or at least something “sonnet-shaped.”

That silly sign in your yard with the pastel colors proclaiming who you are, what you are against, and why you are a loving tolerant inclusive progressive etc. etc. Yeah that sign. Guess what: it’s a cheap virtue signal ignored by over half of us who pass your lawn, and it has an opposite reinforcing effect on us. When we see that sign, it causes us to cultivate in ourselves all that you neurotically project on us. We just check all the category boxes and keep on driving. As if you had a monopoly on virtue… what a joke you are.