and write in faith that there is another syracuse
not just the one that borders the frozen lakes
but one that touches the ocean, that resembles
the sky, i have not seen it but i have faith it does
and i write in faith that there is another vera cruz
a cross so green that it resembles our birth, so
my little brother, i walk in faith that what i write
is not mine but culminations of souls who strum,
who riff through me when they would rather have
words than musical notes that echo in this our numerical abyss
