Whiskey and Salt, Whiskey and Chocolate

Whiskey and Salt

A smell of cedar- the sound
of sleet and wind (they roar
and they murmur)- the smoothness
of this glass tumbler and the
quiet fire in my throat. I
haunt the night, and the Spirit
of God is haunting me. He is
not quiet.

Whatever happened to my honesty?
Innocence I never had, but once
I thought I might be honest. What
hand if not mine could kill it?
And if it was I, I am the slayer
of my self. I am the blighter
of the green, and the wicked blade
a-sweeping. I am the mouth of hell,
and I the river Acheron.


Whiskey and Chocolate

A taste of apples and of wood, and
the whisper of a kiss. Think- how was
man meant to be? Poised to fall but
held aloft by heavenly fingers, by
godly grip, by the pleasure and the
patience of divinity. All good things
praise the Lord (und wo ist etwas
Schlechtes?), and the Lord it is
who makes me.

Faith alone can tie sure bonds
and faith alone can keep them.
Faith in love and kith and kin-
faith in right and good and
might- faith in God and in his
Christ. I am empty, but he
is fullness. I have nothing, and he
is all things to me.

Epigram

It is no easy thing,
when cannibal is king,
to burn the dead
and fires red
around them ring.

I Lost

You are all your fingers in my hair,
my curly cap, my darkling dancer,
you are your weight against my thighs.
You are quick, cool breaths against my brows.
You are little lines on my pages,
my America, my new found land.

what masks we wear

you hear my shouting

sibylline and sibilant

made of moving things

we fought, we fight

and still will fight

but death is gone

from our fingers

and hell from our hands

see, see, the cutless

knives

pierced and punctured

lacerated

ragged, raging

broken in splendor

we are the gods

of the underworld

the soiled divinities

olympus in the slums