Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Ethereal Beauty #32

Quiet, voices, I pray to my ethereal wreck.
“Beauty in a flower, milk of kindness,

Gentle heart at rest with God ….”. What’s the use?
Time to converse with the rubbing alcohol.

O the fire-juice burns my lungs, criss-crossing
Eyes now alight on bosomy hills. Tight,

I evaporate in a slough of inertia.
I tried for brotherhood of one -- me -- but

Was self-rebuffed. Forgotten blandishments
From a childhood sidekick, sick with insistence,

Causes this cribbing, the stall sash splintered.
There’s a word, a mantra given, I think,

Advancing like a papal bull in a
Nun’s strongbox, over and over and over.

Breathing spasmodically, something’s wrong.
Hymnal pages flutter like parade awnings,

Insouciant, extending spines. I’ll continue
To mate marriage proposals with charred lust.

No comments: