Sunday, August 30, 2020

Flesh Remains

 

dear Father, the rage of the bull, the love

of the lamb! to rebuke a faint, into a Ghost,

so trancelike or deceased fire flowing by

tears: endow us as crucial born deaths

or walk in cattle. (bleeding baptism, as

crushed in tone-carpet, too much aloneness,

ore uncured, to read veins by ceilings.) at

indigo pity, so ungathered, purchased by

pieces: drinking thickets, bathing in briers,

so holy his coughing! those polyrhythms,

too undecisive, where default becomes

clear: sartorial angst, if flit or run or dire!

sewn by whiplash as bushes script witness

by rage at hickory—weeping hoarse skin!

The Sentiment

  The Sentiment    It tends to matter—each pursuing holy armor. It leans into a desire to feel pure, clean, sacred and such. I never underst...