Outside of ELLENVILLE, NY

Thinking a shtetl is relative, one world village--I feel I am among the seen of those who portend signs of spiritual realization, like Rebbes on top of roofs, {fiddlers on roofs} as I walk down the street ankle deep in angst, a dot of angst that surmises what I can emote of the significant dream images I have of Poppa on on top of the bungalow as if my outstretched arm was right there ready to offer him a tool. Like biblical masks veiling faces, or just transient looks I project upon people--these characters whether dream-like or here, not knowing what else or what root race seemingly contorting out of serene looks heralded into my plain of view. Dybbuks, spiritual possession, has to be like channeling; the voice of split cognizance occurring--the patient drone awakening in your mind that now you are amongst.