I made Revival before the corona virus halted our gathering. I was wanting to talk about the need and impossibility of revival. A camp meeting in a white tent in a gold field, a megachurch in a strip mall in middle America, the people in the aisles writhing in ecstasy and out of shame. The old doctrine of damnation and its music. But only not there but here, among the market and its miniature, its photograph, its prized silhouette. Imagine seeing one of our “pieces” and it made your head roll back and your tongue come out and you had to speak in tongues and you had to weep because you knew absolution, destroyed and remade in its glory. Imagine any of this saved. To fly for you once, long ago now, my little kites and how you smiled. We were all there but we weren’t, we were at work or otherwise on our way.
