Tuesday, March 07, 2017


in the more or less

in early autumn

tiny christs nailed
to tiny crosses

priests with their
hands on fire

drove further out into
the country to where the
vultures spoke of simpler times

where they laughed while they
ripped meat from bone,
screamed MOTHERFUCKER! at
the children sleeping in
shallow ditches and in the
here and now

above and beneath the
simple weight of the sky

walked 3000 miles to the
back of my mind

found wolves
guarding the temple

found my letters to st maria


faith is a personal thing,
religion a cancer,
and there has never been a
point in asking any question
where GOD is the answer

there has never
been enough silence

there will never be a grave
deep enough to hold
all the deserving politicians

just need to smile while
you bleed and keep digging

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