February 21, 2013

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 ©

2 comments:

  1. I smell thawing earth, taste iron in water, hear the creak of new leaves on trees and see your soul peeking out from the corner of your kitchen window. And the photo is one I wish I had taken.

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