i’m less likely to call out to god than godot
dylan is my godfather who will protect me
while cash is my wetnurse
and bukowski cries with me in that great dive bar in the sky
where all the loose women come free of tears. Read on…
dylan is my godfather who will protect me
while cash is my wetnurse
and bukowski cries with me in that great dive bar in the sky
where all the loose women come free of tears. Read on…
I learned to question God
from a story of Yom Kippur my mother once told
on broadloom steps that muflled sound,
her voice foggy with memory. Read on…
Dim theories of an afterlife,
Reincarnation, grip our mind. Read on…
Banish the hubris,
Toss away the choice words
Spoken by rotten, broken tongues.
Silence the chorus of appalled shock. Read on…
Laid upon the altar
open pages of the Book
echo hollowness.
Send me to my cellared mind
to explore. Read on…
The threads into the future
I catch with my fingertips,
And tracing them a little way,
I think I come to grips Read on…
Strife in China
I keep seeing strife in China
Still I long to touch a personal heaven
calm and silky
sane and safe Read on…
In the moment between sacred and profane
we laugh
and call for god
as my need clenches around you Read on…
The merwoman swam
to a stand of bull kelp.
The best-branching trunk she decorated
with glowing jellyfish and glass buoys
filled with a suspension of phosphorescent plankton. Read on…
There’s a box under my bed
gathering dust.
Piled inside are items
I no longer deal with: church bulletins, Read on…