I'm posting this well aware that it is a first draft of a poem since revised. But I can't find the revision. So I may just have to revise again. But anyway, a peek.
*
Over one year in, over two years in, O where to begin accounting?
Abacus & fine comb Kit Smart was right: let us kneel in the street.
Another horrible weekend shouldn’t mean much. Green & sorrow destroys
Renewal, easter egg, come Armageddon come. My friend
Says that darkness is necessary, says that God is real, listens to death metal & shop
lifts, says his prayers to the Virgin Mary & Thomas Merton, calls me “Son.”
December churns in our collective stomackes. When I said “that’s hot,” you said
“honey, I think it’s just the mustard.” & with weeping, laughter too, and well,
That which burneth thy tongue will also set you free. Cold clear day ahead.
[12/14/2007]
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2 comments:
And wouldn't you know it--the spacing's all fucked up. Sigh.
Hey, it looks good to me. Nice work, my friend.
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