LIP-SYNCHING TO GOD

….can lead to a very smite-able
contract dispute, where the dotted line
is dashed with dawn-of-time and all
attendant baggage, and the heavenly
choirs are talking trash behind your back
in perfect harmony, and you can count
all the angels you want on the head
of a pin, until the needle drops,
and you’re left standing,
mute and pure as milk, your only
line from an already minor production
suddenly excised….

ADVANCED KINGS

…already put the kibosh
on the word-of-mouth,
and just when you were done
worshipping the end of the line.
Your allegiance spells dust.
You can’t say the first word
of forgiveness, the dead
are swept under the chalice,
but still, this is the realm
you’re most comfortable in?
Remind me why I’m blind…

MEET YOUR MAKER

Hello. You seem to be
holding up well. Are you
the worst for wear, do you need
any special mommy-coddling,
or a credit for a free dinner?
Look at you. You’re a bag of bones,
unformed, a bent fetal Hail Mary,
delicious. I’d name you Clay,
but that would be redundant.
Look at what you are
in my hands….

The eyelids of god are always flipping burgers!

What does this picture mean to you?

Is this a vindication of blood-lust
or a properly celebrated holiday?

Is this man a shadow of his formal self?

Is this a mirror taking a picture of itself?

BRAZEN ARITHMETIC…

this writing on the wall
this syncopated second thought
this out-of-body full disclosure.
I have read between the lines
until I am blind, I have scoured
the text to vilify the sacred,
to make angels the default
button for destruction, but I can’t
break the code of the familiar,
the breath that catches,
the sustained silence, the coiled
look, I can’t find my way
out of here. I’ve written myself
into a corner.

A DAMNED AFFAIR

I will have nothing
to do with you, I expunge
you from the record. You
officially do not exist.
Pleased to meet you.
I see you come with your
own pre-commissioned
laugh track. Congratulations.
You’re one step ahead of me.
But I’ve already strangled
any potential blood donors,
so really, where does that
leave us?