Stained


I am possessed by the rasping, sandpaper tongue of cat lick confession. The sinuous, feline beauty of liturgy and performance, the revelation of sins and miracles. The congregation of troubled souls, the guilty pleasure of wine and song. The body, the blood, the absolution.

In the churches that I attend, the music is fuelled by a darkness of faltering intensity. Enlightenment burns with the slow intention of an all-consuming flame. We inhale the heady smoke like incense and exhale with the sated pleasure of those who have breathed the divine.

Posted by Hg on Sunday 01 June 2008 at 22:34.
Received 2 comments so far.

Comments

Happy to read writing like this and the previous post on your site, adn I like the photos too... More please.

Comment by beth on Monday 02 June 2008 at 18:20.

Thanks Beth. Yeah, it's been a while since we've had an outbreak of dark purple round here. There have been hints and tints in a few pieces I've written, but really it's probably been over nine months since I've written something so impenetrably self-absorbed.

Comment by Hg on Monday 02 June 2008 at 21:31.

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