An emotional dilettante is about to tear
An emotional dilettante is about to tear and tear.
Yes. I, the lackey of logic, care,
Unstable as a rocky, cliff-side crag,
Feeling the free-fall- depressed and sad.
Hug me, for I will fall in love with falling:
Craving you, unchecked as a city sprawling.
Right now - irrational as the root of two
Quiet outside, but it’s just a rue.
Underneath the tractors are churning
Above fields of manure turning
A bag of weeds and seeds into a farm
That without plague or swarm
Will harvest bountiful fruit and wheat
Until in the sky we meet.
I am Worthy
Running toward knives and prisons
Irrational as one can pray, “I am worthy of pain!”
Screaming as the baton stencils my skin with leaky red marker.
Visiting the fingerless woman gripping the joy of suffering
because she is the outstretched hand of Your Body.
It’s not about you, never was.
For someone I have seen only reflections of
Is more real than anyone else alive.