God dressed in excessed fabrics

He lay out on the metro, a stale recessed habit

And lay out on the ground, between the folded cloths of bended meats- twice surround, the white rope bound him,

To the eastside at noon or one around him

But that wasn’t the common thing about him

It was that he chatted with me like any other.

 

He cured mainly symptoms of many ailments

With many gestures and milked fulfillments

Though I saw, too, the sound was first

As you hear what will be-

And what might be worse.

 

To hang a low head before

To angle down and decide a diagonal score

To vaunt in the afterlight and crow the chilling note of four

To chase the angel with the wing which the white dove tore

Is to be a slanted form by which shame may implore (If God made two, and two made more).

 

A whisper warned as aimed as a kick

A tooth, a bite, a solid trick

Went all lost on a boy called Nick,

Who was all and well, a piece of shit

But heaven sent and said “You’re it”.

Which was all it took, from an outcast angel and,

Likely a crook.

 

Two days it takes to make God’s drink

He takes the water from the sink

With one green olive at the brink

Two days it takes to drink God’s drink

Cheers To Us, a brittle clink

It fills by droplets and droplets link

I drank God’s drink and

Still I think

I hate the water from the sink.

 

In the morning while the sun is blue

I thought I’d say a thing untrue

All I do is think of-

With red wine and cadmium and delphinium too

With pain and fruit flavors to underwrite you

On an island outstanding where the sun may shine blue

And the palm trees found themselves cross-bearing soldiers

Executing

Some very tropical crucifixions.