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
Some very tropical crucifixions.