but sometimes they do,
I told her.
Sometimes the thing that brought you salvation
is the very thing that steals your soul.
What fools give their trust away
without a reason to exchange it?
We trade the commodity of hearts
enveloped in the ora of a kiss
thinking that our field of vision
had been the only thing absent from it.
And in that field, grass grows up
toward the complacent cows of promise,
before every dawn
that ever existed.
Leave this place as you found it,
in your travels
Until it is me you find
you become east again.
And so it is the sun that knows this
as fire eats fire,
the elements of your hair
Disillusioned by the “self” in fearing
you were fix’n for Mad City
for the drink,
You set yourself, an angel
against hungry wolves.
cycling pants of air from
the berth in the throat;
with air so thick
it drowns the lungs,
Pain so great,
we fall over,
even in my dreams.
I remember my father state, but never
quite finish the phrase:
“What echo’s in this life…”
And hearing it as a kid,
I thought he was asking me a question.
A question that continues to
until I’m smacked upside the head by
“Angels and shit don’t go together”
Perhaps it was the verse omitted from the day
when birds were unmistakably blotches in the sky
and Jesus walked off into the sunset,
not for the glory of salvation,
but to protest,
in a misguided heart.
to protest my love for you.