From the 2018 Collection "The Dead Dog Parish"
#becomingnobody #gratitude #nonsense
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.
Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still a shiver
At a certain point in your ordeal, it isn’t your ordeal that bothers… It is the fact that everything is… That’s what really bothers you. Because what happened is not OK,
In your gut is an empire— Spells, tug of war, Holy Days, ascent, decline.
It occurs to me now that no one hears my song. Still young, I am discarded. I don’t anticipate being surprised at my aloneness in old age.
A Sacred Site has a genealogy, a pedigree of constituents whose good wisdom and charitable insight are markers enough
The cicada, once with the humility of a barnac… weeping beneath the fern, now screams its inane mantra, which
Tears tears do a walk-by unload the clip don’t know why now
Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.
Yes, it’s a famous song— “Unbroken Chain” by the Grateful Dead, a good band name as an aside,
Ten days secluded now, improper and unshaven inside a black and gold hole, dope den of sultry sound and opiate mood.
Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath
I’ll give you what I got, I can part with it all. I have gifts— A silk tongue,
Finally alone, I lie with a volum… I venture again to hear the injunc… normally I savor their sensitivity… but tonight all I can think about
The choir of the saints is heartle… They’ve parried happiness a lifeti… seeking only the old earth, the marsh of the meek— where earnest suffering