Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Who drinks with God?

Who drinks with God?
Who waits upon the other to sing?
Who dreams the Goddream?
And who awakens to find the bones of love
Beside him?

What is the sort of thirst
That consumes even itself?

Drinking with God,
Who will get drunk first?

Intoxication from intoxication

Drinking, a thirst rather,
That seeks to slip this Flesh
From these Bones, right?

To every two sides of a bad coin
There is, of course, an inside

Perhaps, as T. Waits says:
“There ain’t no Devil
That’s just God when he’s drunk.”

So why not just go ahead
And lose everything?

Fuck. The. You.

Sunday, February 18, 2007

In the End We Had Dust With No Life


In the end
We had dust with no life
We had given our lives
To the Flesh
Not to the Bone
And in the end
We slipped away
With the wind
Diminishing the Dream
Like sand falling
Through the convexities
Of the hourglass
In the end
There was only
A Nothingness


What desolates a Town?


Forget – Forgive

We lose what is at hand
We forget about the Bone
The inner structure is taken for granted:
That there is Being.