If these cathedrals could talk: inventory

This hour I tell things in confidence. I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you. 

Your Communist Manifesto copy, your Buddha now balanced on my laptop. Tambourine, Robert Lowell, Mao, pile of flannel shirts, a 2-lb calculator, Schonbrunn Tickets, "If These Stones Could Talk: A General Guide for Cathedral Explorers," ("who are you indeed who would talk or sing to America?") your parents' wedding pictures, an apologetic letter from Icelandair with the sweet preface: DEAR ICELANDAIR CUSTOMER. Leaves of Grass, a stash of Sharpies, your diplomas, a Hindu goddess incense holder ("I hear the Hindoo teaching his favorite pupil the loves, wars, adages, transmitted safely to this day from poets who wrote three thousand years ago"), piles of pictures of your cousins.

The voyage of those who sought a New England and found it.