Friday, August 10, 2012

the bleeding horse despairs in the face of all that cannot be changed

this wall of heat until you can no
longer clearly remember the darkest days
                                                of february

the laughter of children and
the hum of air conditioners

trickle of sweat
between your lover’s breasts

and what hope can you have for the future
when your religion is based on blood
and violence, and why would you kiss the
feet of a savior who wears a halo of ashes?

why would kiss the
feet of anyone at all?

i am tired of the burning house

i am tired of the weeds
that devour the garden
once you move past the idea of
immortality, you begin to see clearly
once the last dollar has been spent, you
begin to see the attraction of despair
and do you understand why
bukowski’s death doesn’t matter?

do you understand he would have had
nothing but contempt for you?

and this is true of dali also, of course,
and of reagan, and once the villagers have
all been locked inside the church
the priests light the torches

they line up the bulldozers and they
explain that all true gods take sides

they turn politely away
while the women are raped

it’s a sad fucking world when the
only thing we can
think to beg for is forgiveness

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