March ? - 30, 2005

I upended the dictionary
and sat amid the disarray.
That only took a moment.  Then
the words rose up and struck me
one by one, and then in pairs
and couplets
until I was quite insensate 
from the blows

The notion of originality 
quoth the sage, one eye on the headlines
one eye down the gunsight
is vastly overrated in this culture

But the world which we make reference to has changed

I upended the thousand-sided dice
and logged on to the logosphere, a word I invented
before I had my first child, a surface I visit for fun

Thrum of motors . Sound of trains . Never lived where I couldn't hear a train .
never lived where I wasn't loved . all I want is to love . i n d e f i n i t e l y
and take my lickings  too . I even want to love you, you f*ckwit
but you ain't paying attention

The sage is a chameleon with swivelling eyes
The sage is an advertisement for candy
If you look at me, you will think, rosemary, and not sage
Rosemary is blooming at my front door, even this minute
but the paschal lamb it goes with passed me over

Oh Christ
Thou lovest pardon, pardon me
for making fun of the Christians

who could love you, and not be your fool for life
your fool for tender love
but they are trying to kill me, Lord
they hate me and they persecute me

when they spit hate at me, Jesus, at me
and my queerness and my unchurched marriage

for such it truly is

I fear for life

But I have sanctified the house of bones
and borne my love two children
how could a man of hate degrade what you have blessed?

I got home this evening
and my daughter had my dinner ready
Ah yes
the wages of sin seem more than fair
but you are the tyranny of softness, hanged man
God will love me no matter how hard I hate myself
God will cling to me and never let me throw him off
And you love them, just like you love me, don't you, Jesus?

So I will try God I will try
to love myself and them
for the regard in which you hold us
close as close
But I tire of being hated and I thirst for love
a long sweet kiss in front of the Spaced Out Library

I am never going to stop standing under that lamppost
humming something I wrote for you

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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