From the 2019 Collection "2222"
#222 #2222 #comedy #existential #jmartindean
Incense thick with a scent that is true and a bit soiled and dense so dense I lift
Think you’re doing something? Thing you’ve got some power? You can walk on coals, swallow poison and live, but who is at the helm
Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,
Love is a svelte dagger, a gentle rapping, a triple-seven. Love is my law, makes me weep,
The cicada, once with the humility of a barnac… weeping beneath the fern, now screams its inane mantra, which
The duration of a miracle is exactly one moment, after that you may as well be talking about what happened in the big game last night.
A tide of blood, miniature in compare— But an ocean no less, to the virus in there.
Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath
I would lie with my hand on the B… I would lie with my hand on a stac… of Holy Qurans. I would look you dead-in-the-eye, and tell you a lie.
In the most lovely of lands, before a backdrop of mountains and palms, there hangs a pall— All my Loves
Two onyxes atop another out where the witch frolics, the signal clear, it rang through my throat so loudly I frightened myself:
There is a most worthy woman, the upper steward of the manor, Obermeyer of Holy Terra, house cute, smokestack simmering,
Pretend like your hell is the new normal. Now the space is calm, and poignant, and telling.
Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.
I’ll give you what I got, I can part with it all. I have gifts— A silk tongue,