there aught as bright as the moon?
Gentle one gliding aloft in the heavens.
Not hard to describe – like a flufflet of cotton.
Break from the clouds, set thyself in the sky
‘Twas Allah appointed thy journey, thy grazing.
All the world knows it’s the truth I am telling.
Gentle one gliding along on the breeze, in all the wide world none with thee
Can compare.
This kaleidoscope belonged to Ali Mamadu N-diaye, a Tukolor corporal of the Tirailleurs Sénégalais who received it as a gift from his commanding officer, Lieutenant Lamine Chardigne, only days before N’diaye was killed, along with all but thirty members of his company, during a German night-time assault on Dixmude, Belgium, in 1914.
Object 4: Platinum kaleidoscope, commissioned by Debeers LV, belonging to central African Dictator John Mungwane. Chips of ruby, emerald, opal, sapphire and diamond provide the object chamber elements for this piece. An etching around the eyepiece reads “Best regards, J.F. Kennedy.” It is suspected that Mungwane’s assassination in June, 1971, was carried out by a CIA operative under orders from American President Richard Nixon.
Exhibit 2:An excerpt from an account given to the UN war crimes tribunal, 1998:
“ We ran into the village church, hopeful that our neighbors might take pity on us in God’s sanctuary. I had to step over several bodies to make it through the chapel’s doors. I crouched near the altar, praying for deliverance, as was everyone who was crammed into that little building. We could hear the machine guns outside, but were relieved to hear them stop, until something came crashing through the stained glass window, showering me with glass. Someone in the middle of the crowd screamed “Grenade!” and an explosion threw me to the ground. Bodies flew over me and blood spotted up onto the broken stained glass window, staining Mary, Queen of Africa’s dress. The sun shone through that window, spraying colors over everything – the candlesticks, the altar, the bodies, the blood . . .”
Keys I Don’t Remember
The Last Key in Sodom
Lot detested the thing, but it was, after all, a domestic necessity. Heaven forbid that a man of God use a stylized phallus for his incomings and outgoings, but it was so. He felt guilty, one step away from damnation, whenever he inserted the thing into the labial lock that adorned his front door. But once inside he could feel the holiness of his dwelling – a home is a man’s temple, no less – and delighted in being enveloped in the warmth of hearthside security. He was a devout man, though, and counted his blessings. At least the keyhole was gender-specific.
The key passed through many hands the day after Abraham’s pleading. Lot’s absent-minded daughter met a pair of angels on the street that day and brought them home. Unfortunately, in letting them in, she completely forgot the key in the lock.
By this time, as the story goes, the townsfolk took an interest in Lot’s visitors and came knocking. As soon as their hairy knuckles hit wood, though, they were struck blind. Someone on the outside, though, remembered seeing the key in the door and started to feel up the door to find the means to get in. One of the angels – more erudite than Lot’s daughter, obviously – went to the window, gave a reach-around, and grabbed the key, pulling out just as a mass of hands grabbed at the spot below the brass handle. A collective “Awww!” rose from the crowd. Soon the Sodomites were on their hands and knees grubbing about for the key. “Bugger it all!” someone called out. The angel turned and closed the window forthwith, not wanting to witness what followed. He handed the key to Lot’s wife who, he hoped, had more sense than her daughter.
After a quick debriefing, the family exited the back door and headed out of the city. As they walked out onto the plain, the angels explained that
Gentle one gliding aloft in the heavens.
Not hard to describe – like a flufflet of cotton.
Break from the clouds, set thyself in the sky
‘Twas Allah appointed thy journey, thy grazing.
All the world knows it’s the truth I am telling.
Gentle one gliding along on the breeze, in all the wide world none with thee
Can compare.
This kaleidoscope belonged to Ali Mamadu N-diaye, a Tukolor corporal of the Tirailleurs Sénégalais who received it as a gift from his commanding officer, Lieutenant Lamine Chardigne, only days before N’diaye was killed, along with all but thirty members of his company, during a German night-time assault on Dixmude, Belgium, in 1914.
Object 4: Platinum kaleidoscope, commissioned by Debeers LV, belonging to central African Dictator John Mungwane. Chips of ruby, emerald, opal, sapphire and diamond provide the object chamber elements for this piece. An etching around the eyepiece reads “Best regards, J.F. Kennedy.” It is suspected that Mungwane’s assassination in June, 1971, was carried out by a CIA operative under orders from American President Richard Nixon.
Exhibit 2:An excerpt from an account given to the UN war crimes tribunal, 1998:
“ We ran into the village church, hopeful that our neighbors might take pity on us in God’s sanctuary. I had to step over several bodies to make it through the chapel’s doors. I crouched near the altar, praying for deliverance, as was everyone who was crammed into that little building. We could hear the machine guns outside, but were relieved to hear them stop, until something came crashing through the stained glass window, showering me with glass. Someone in the middle of the crowd screamed “Grenade!” and an explosion threw me to the ground. Bodies flew over me and blood spotted up onto the broken stained glass window, staining Mary, Queen of Africa’s dress. The sun shone through that window, spraying colors over everything – the candlesticks, the altar, the bodies, the blood . . .”
Keys I Don’t Remember
The Last Key in Sodom
Lot detested the thing, but it was, after all, a domestic necessity. Heaven forbid that a man of God use a stylized phallus for his incomings and outgoings, but it was so. He felt guilty, one step away from damnation, whenever he inserted the thing into the labial lock that adorned his front door. But once inside he could feel the holiness of his dwelling – a home is a man’s temple, no less – and delighted in being enveloped in the warmth of hearthside security. He was a devout man, though, and counted his blessings. At least the keyhole was gender-specific.
The key passed through many hands the day after Abraham’s pleading. Lot’s absent-minded daughter met a pair of angels on the street that day and brought them home. Unfortunately, in letting them in, she completely forgot the key in the lock.
By this time, as the story goes, the townsfolk took an interest in Lot’s visitors and came knocking. As soon as their hairy knuckles hit wood, though, they were struck blind. Someone on the outside, though, remembered seeing the key in the door and started to feel up the door to find the means to get in. One of the angels – more erudite than Lot’s daughter, obviously – went to the window, gave a reach-around, and grabbed the key, pulling out just as a mass of hands grabbed at the spot below the brass handle. A collective “Awww!” rose from the crowd. Soon the Sodomites were on their hands and knees grubbing about for the key. “Bugger it all!” someone called out. The angel turned and closed the window forthwith, not wanting to witness what followed. He handed the key to Lot’s wife who, he hoped, had more sense than her daughter.
After a quick debriefing, the family exited the back door and headed out of the city. As they walked out onto the plain, the angels explained that
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