tell me Copernicus, what is my name...

photo by Edward Rinaldi ©

I do believe in love

I went to go find Jesus

in a songbook and all I found

was Elvis and a few Beatle tunes

cheap highs and nylons by the millions

these were said to keep circulation steady

my mind a lit-up jukebox ready

I was born thirsty for choice

diming the rear view

this is what ass men like best

a nest, another evening dress

something best given over

to a guild of sin, don't you think

I ask the trees as they are sharpening

dreams into buds, waiting through February

for the patterns of lions and lambs to go

walking hand and hand with me over this land

of cycle, bust, boom and eternities

no amount of conversation can please me

so I stay quiet and always seek

the insides of every rubber white room

I have already given too much over

to stately parishes and churches

my intellectual designs 

all these houses coffer coins

with blasphemed holiness,

hubris and guile

painting pentecost 

into denial

no I don't believe in a lord

but I do believe in gold and

stick figure permanence drawn

in wet sand, daring the tides

to come get me again

just like what a recorded uterus says

plow plant wash and rinse repeatedly

history is just another womb 

waiting on all our friends

who can write our names neatly

EJR ©