sesame street 1659 (3-2-18)

Visit St George's by the light of the moon,
if you dare, there in olde Flushing
now surrounded by banks, the Chamber of
Insolence, and varied trees
with the fingerprints of Vikings and feudal serfs.
bring a metal detector
for the silver coffin in which
the blot
god sleeps, a blanket of seeds
up to the eyelids that never close,
watching how slavery on the streets above
has meanly molted, shed one outer skin,
and feasts on all makes and models
without the trappings of prejudice
in this dense hamlet of millions,
most diverse melting pot since
the dragon's breath turned all the Old World
to a cauldron of refugees,
pilgrims, migrants, swimming a stew
of gold, wrapped in beaver skinned leggings,
better bowling alleys, more
gruesome ghosts in hollow cold chain,
the burghers good on unleavened bread.
Visit St George's by the dark of the Sun,
there in New Vlissingen, if
you care, and wear the royal blue
once verboten, or the purple and green
of plants bearing our names,
once Latin, once guttural or gestured,
to show how time blooms,
covering the trails past wampum bay
over to the corner of a lot not
desecrated under a cement lid,
pry up the moss and dust off the tardigrade
guards dancing their 8 legged jig
on the silver box,
locked from within with his Captain's
fingernails grown through the inner 
hardware, moisture free from 360 years
of held ancient breath, and the 
speech Olde Bloetgoet took within his boob,
down to rummage the thousand years
prior, eyes open and a peck of
squash seeds ticking the inner ear,
as the Steeple of St George
heaved to the street, with the usual 
superstitions acquainted with phenomena,
there on the corner of Main and 39th,
the top hats all now gone
the tall sails sallied off
the hoop skirts and whalebone dentures done,
seeds still saw
their way out of the garret as
forms of sacrifice, the blot 
hanging from the trees riddled with ravens,
the bay fog warm
as it washes inland over stone joke hi-rises
mini-marts and cultural outposts,
championed by the unknown as religious
tolerance, doing unto others
as one would like done to ourselves, 
in their tidy life boxes and worthless plots,
the headstones long crumbled
the peg and awl termite known
the keel under repair in a barn half built,
clocks half maintained for the public good
and hourglasses filled
half, in open sesame seed

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Portland 3-2-18

*There are a few Bloodgoods buried at St George's.

https://www.findagrave.com/cemetery/1524648/memorial-search?page=1#sr-124402970


Frans Bloetgoet's property and home from 1659 preceded the first church property: "Services were conducted in the old Guard House until 1746 when the first church building was constructed. "

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frans_Jansen_Bloetgoet

"Garretson Homestead was located on Main Street directly opposite St. George's Episcopal Church. Owned by Garret R. Garretson and his wife, Eliza Bloodgood, .."

"The first house built on the street was probably the Bloodgood House, which ... Later on, it was known as the Garretson House. For many years, it stood opposite St. George's Episcopal Church until it was torn down in the early 20th century."


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"The September 16, 2010 microburst across Brooklyn and Queens destroyed the church's 45-foot wooden steeple which crashed down on top of two New York City buses parked on Main Street.


It is unknown whether the destruction was caused by the 100+ mph winds or a reported lightning strike. 

It was rebuilt in 2013"

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._George%27s_Church_(Queens)

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