From the 2018 Collection "The Dead Dog Parish"
#anger #deaddogparish #guns #jmartindean #sadness
I saw him on the side of the road, on the side of the interstate exit… Maybe he was 18, definitely not 21… tired but not yet haggard. The moment I saw him
Love is a svelte dagger, a gentle rapping, a triple-seven. Love is my law, makes me weep,
In your gut is an empire— Spells, tug of war, Holy Days, ascent, decline.
I know people see him and think, “Gee, that’s crazy.” Which makes it embarrassing to see him
There is a stream of what could have been which flows on with the same rate and newness of what is.
Hollow fang? Volcano. Cat’s purr? Hymnals. Intuition?
One of God’s tricks is, similar to Michael Jordan, It sinks a three-pointer with 1.2 seconds left on the clock,
Want nothing from people and receive their myriad blessings Expect from them and find an empty well Eat less than a ghost
I thought of a human birth And I glanced up ’Twas dusk, early and bright still And close to me it fell through the sky and burned
A tide of blood, miniature in compare— But an ocean no less, to the virus in there.
Nine times out of ten, it’s a demon you’re seeing, not an angel. They have all kinds of disguises, I know-I know,
Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,
Empty Avenue Death on the the installment plan Righteous lady, insolent man, I patience expired.
Walking lakeside, I try to discern what the frogs a… but their drone is one collective… Diving again and again after the secret,
The only thing you can prove is how crazy you are. It’s the best defense. Where was I going with this? I don’t know.