Vision Of A Left-Handed Hummingbird Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

The man is not Jewish but daydreams
to create an art exhibit in every window
up and down Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem.
Now why the hell they speak Espanol
over there is beyond me but I think
it's a leftover from pig-Latin.

Anyway, for the occasion, he promises
to craft abstract graphics derived from
Google Earth. They shall illustrate the path
of the man that claims to be the son of God.
The show, the man says, shall depict the most
dramatically quirky stages of His life.

Like Him being born out of wedlock.
Becoming a holy ghost and disappearing for
40 days somewhere in the mountains.
Having a fit in the supermarket. Kissing
another man in the company of other men.
Stumbling on the way to Mount Golgotha.

Basically, showing Him a rabble-rouser.
The artworks shall be so insanely abstract
people will pass them by and stop but for
brief hesitating moments while strangely
uncommon ethereal sounds, like during
Halloween, shall issue from open doors.

The man envisions his art displayed
at orthogonal angles forming a square
on the top platform of an Aztec pyramid
with a single quadrangular canvas oozing
sanguine rivulets from a hole in its center
and surrounded by undulating, plumed exotic

dancers, high-kicking around the edges of
the top of a pyramid that pierces dramatically
a layer of clouds that floats round its gritty
middle periphery, like a tutu on a ballerina.
At that moment Huit-zilopoch-tli*
(short for José) hovers before his gaze

still veiled within incensed smoke.