Report Blog Entry
white noise from bukowski’s empty glass
begging in deviant pinned alleyways
the broken pastor weeps
for another hit
palms bleeding
licks sneers from passing sheep
backway motel hell
an overflowing ashtray
the model of past persuasion
oleander promises
traffic pale running
across the window
your eyes fixed
on the hollow left in the pillow
a holy ill-fated impression
of love’s forgotten scent
memory of taxi brakes
and jammed headlights, adulation
poor patron of abandoned breath
there are no miracles to wake the day
in the night, bread is broken
like the bones of a woman’s face
bruised blessings kissed
from a clenched fist
a religion that always
brings them to their knees
in tears
in sweat
in tongue
in cum
in blood
and splintered dreams
laughing Buddha
embraces the herds of dawn
and the world slouches carelessly
into forgotten corner bars
Comments
Displaying 2 of 2 comments ( View all | Add Comment )
Mike Carson
Splendid view of so many people's now, I see the lost sheep every day at the Convenience store I work part time at. Not enough miracles in the galaxy to save what's broken at this point. I watch and I wonder how they all got here, the usual way, of course. So good to mine your mind again.
William
fucksake..... whoa. i don't recognize this one. new? doesn't really matter. my eyes are fresh. i'm a tad speechless otherwise. I'll have to come back and say more when i'm not wrapped up in the day to day.... it is so cool to see you posting again, after so long. luv yuo.