Wednesday, November 7, 2007


COMBUSTION
Everything burns within my sight.
Easter lilies, styrofoam collars,

the subway cripple trawling salvation.

I add them all to the widening pyre.


And He said,

"Stoop here, and drink, and live..."

Black waters of Christ, I am done with it.
I can't drink you for this heat.
When I was young, I wanted combustion.

The Human Torch, “Flame on!”


Now, I see crucified silhouettes

hazy on the outskirts of Rome.

A lone man, numb but jubilant,

his skin in hock at the local pawn-shop.
God's vengeance on all the earth
smells like a fire in a Greek diner.

And this coffee, this coffee is awful.

It tastes like my ancestors.


I am asking, I am asking...

No God, I don't know what.

This fever ends when I want it to.

Rapture just a matter of letting go.

Monsters