waiting

waiting outside of a late night bingo parlor under the stars stubborn enough to remain in the fluorescent light draining through the open doors.

one foot on the ground. my ass on the hood of a van. one foot on the bumper. I need a cigarette to complete the tableau

influenced

bones born of caliche
bleached by a desert sun
carried in a wind stung sack,
an oracle cast.
wasps have fled
the paper nests of my lungs,
but a quiet rustle remains.

written in the rime,
the crystal breath
of a mothers memory,
missing compass points
lost somewhere in the depths
of bloods history.

it has been so long since I have
seen the ocean.

the wild violence of a new erosion,
a wet kiss to wash the sand
from my eyes,
a new skin to fall below

autumnal

leaves fall like small
birds shot, a twisting
wind pushing them away.

summer's excess reduced
to a golden fluorescence,
another spectacle of death.

empty fingers dredge a
too blue sky for sleep
and the dream of a sun
spinning back to pull
life into them.

consecration

fingers curl into a rigor of ecstasy
a reverence seered with the
cruelty of righteousness.
you burn in my lungs,
the ember of your divinty
fueled by the blood of my innocence.
My heart a cinder but still it pumps
pitch through my veins.
the rictus of prayer, all the ash
of hosannas falling
into the truth of my eyes.

I can not turn back the pages on my absolution,
the sin of my god is writ
forever in me