Facing the Page
I face the page again
A dire consequence of my obsession
To see something reflected in these lines
That resonates with a reader
I face the page again to connect with myself
Along with others who may vaguely understand
The troubled musings of a liquidated author
Who eats allegories for breakfast
And shits run on sentences in the form of poetry
And cruelly mocks the rules of English grammar
In favor of a discordant melody
Which winds out of time
To its own drumbeat
The Disturbing Power of Faith
The devastating thing about it was
Just how quickly it came
in fits of blue-collar rage
It stormed in, hostile and enthusiastic
Filled with the venom of God
Virile in its arrogance
And completely devoid of reason
It built a specter out of fear
Starting with immigrants
Make America Puritan
A white abstraction
Thinly coded in nationalism
Red ties made a noose
Around the future
And self-preservation took an insidious turn
Toward the worst impulses of the ego
The kinds that revel in cruelty
Punishers are of the devil’s party
Functionally speaking, the devil punishes the wicked
Or so the story goes off into a war with heaven
and a battle for souls
When you operate on Christian nationalism
Even reality is a lie in the hands of a believer
You can believe reality straight into being
This is the ultimate secret understanding
We are the imagination of ourselves
Our lies lay the foundation of the Truth
This is the Language of Eden
This is their ultimate power
Faith is a form of magick
To access it, you must sever logic and reason
Sever caution and nurture certainty
And watch them line up behind
Whichever dog barks the loudest
at the root of silence. paused a powder. rolling backward over the gutter. & dissolved in anOther’s eyes. & a chest secretly envied the outer lining of a gray suit. would disturb the body. scabbing toward her own throat and rolled out at moonlight.
all stopped atop the promise of dust (itself seemed) silent since your vein is wound on time. that crept into what i will call you.
we are masquerading as plucked blossoms. I sleep beneath the blanket you crocheted. I know i feel warmth.
well i'm going to down and up like you stared at God and loaded the bowels of compassion from her nightstand.
the way her bladder empties out & how jesus will swallow the puffy cushions of a comfortable wrath.
the length of god could smell gastric juice.
set in biology
my body could teach me
that sins overlap and imagine
we pass that gleam of lOve
yOu escape through
