Friday, November 28, 2014
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
of the miracles
are smoking cigs,
strange and clammy
rub away smog
The weight of the world
is too much for them.
How sad they are
to now be crumbling
in the daylight.
How they wish
God would restore
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Friday, November 21, 2014
my god is in the blue bony world
I was created in silence like biting dry cold,
walking barefoot in the snow.
Nothing more infinitely tender.
Nothing more beyond the drama of the streets.
A shadow grew up over the walls to the ceiling,
as if the world was ending as I was beginning.
I was raised in a house of mirrors without forgiveness
and a thousand times the wind swept me to the desert,
where I earned my hunger and my thirst.
I came of age waiting for my mind to be altered,
with plants, roots, chemicals,
like the blessing of the holy beggar wrapped
in shredded blankets under a sky full of migrating butterflies.