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January 4, 2013


I prayed to you.
When I saw him staying only through your will.
I prayed the prayers of drunks and fools.
Part of me wants you, still.

So, let this bold and drunken sinner.
Sell his body down the river.
Let this pared and paltry artist.
Sell his slogans to The Party.

He, like a fool, put the whale ‘fore the flood.
He, like a surgeon, put the bound ‘fore the blood.
He, like a poet, draws the tears from the bud.
He, like a General, fed the guns for the mud.

Talk not to me of blasphemy, boy.
Don’t you see?
We’re God’s only toys.
Small acts of cruelty.
Small songs of joy.
Strange works of mercy, in his employ.


From → Poetry

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