This morning’s coffee
tastes like resignation,
however,
I’m in the mood for redemption.
Tag: redemption
god is an American
god is a Baptist preacher
fingering your mother
behind a revival tent
god is a priest
who shoots your baby
with an uzi full of holy water
god is the monsignor who sodomized your brother
god is a plague carrier
god is a destroyer of men
god hates your gay marriage
god sold the first bump of fentanyl to your junkie sister
god is Fox news
god is a high school drop out who sells used cars
god has a concealed carry permit
god formed a militia
god gave us a sexually transmitted president
god has nations buried in his basement
god is the voice whispering in the ears of tyrants
god is a compound burning in Waco
god is a nuclear warhead
god is a plane crashing into the world trade center
god is the Westboro Baptist Church picketing a soldier’s funeral
god killed Jesus
god is an American
every night you were away
i sought you out
through blackberry bramble ether
from weeping constellations above dixmyth avenue
to jessamine county barns filled with horse hay
perpetually wrapping blue ribbon around my finger
whispering vespers
my plea to the particles of the universe
to hold you together
to bring you back from oblivion
as you had done for me
you are my chosen family
inextricably part
of my thunderous heart
to which you will always hold the latchkey
once you’ve been a mortician
you never stop thinking
or dreaming
like one
.
beyond exposure
to the harshest chemicals
in existence
it is the psychological blitzkrieg
that is the true
occupational hazard
.
i am plagued by dreams
of having to embalm
my dead since i was 6 father
his features i set perfectly
but his hands won’t take the fluid
they are a sick yellowish color
with blackened fingernails
the fingers spread apart
ghoulishly
implying
death is always
grasping coldly toward us
.
as for the rest of humanity
my eyes see them
as softened fruit
about to spoil
.
each day
has become a discipline
in attempting
not to think
this way
.
as i find life
in all its pain and glory
to be worthwhile
and of
unfathomable beauty
.
today i’m reaching out
for myself at age 55
older me who still wears her silver hair long
strong woman who survived
and came out swinging
i want to read her writing
i want to know how she kept from dying
i want to know when her anger went away
i want to meet her sons
who forgave her
for everything she couldn’t give them
i need her to tell me that love
saved all of our lives
our lady of perpetual sorrow
hear my prayer
as my need is great
it’s thursday night
there’s a bottle of wild turkey
pleading the fifth
on the night stand
lou reed is singing about berlin
from a warehouse in brooklyn
grant me strength
as i have one more night to spend
fighting the good fight
inside the devil’s head
before a flight back to sanity tomorrow
tonight
i must return to the jungle
a hell of teeth and your green predator eyes
escaped long ago
because a good woman has been left behind
in a cage
only my love will unlock
you call me monster
idi amin with my accordion
how naïve
i haven’t yet begun to make you bleed
Categories
rage jar
spring is having its way
with me
and the trees
blooms buds
throw rugs
drapes
everything clean
new
fresh thoughts and ideas
i’m keeping nothing ugly in the house
furniture
chipped dishes
anything that reminds me of you
not even angry thoughts
so i’ve placed a rage jar
on the old roll top
ringing my own pavlovian bells
each time you cross my mind
serial killer of happiness
stealing a moment of my peace
i put a five in
at the end of every month
i will donate the contents of
the redemptive vessel
to a battered women’s shelter
my anger transforming into compassion
making something good come
to a woman in need
from the evils that you do
today is sunday
my dear
the christian sabbath
we shouldn’t sully this up with love
let us grudge fuck like former baptists
as our better judgment
watches in horror amidst rumpled clothing
on the motel floor
since the middle ages
the catholic clergy
have raped more children
than they’ve built churches
and i fail to understand
why every diocese
has not been burned to the ground
the remaining faithful
rebuilding toward heaven
without the shadow of sin
nihil obstat