The Shortest Distance Between Me and You is Together
To write our cathedral
we need a fountain pen
bursting ink up our neck
falling down as JFK tears
across shoulder cloisters
Swinging ropes of light shard
resuscitate the gallows fallen.
The broken patterns of sun
set on nave floor, did anyone
ask Lazarus if he wished to fucking return?
I’d hail a taxi straight to your bedroom
if I knew the black dogs were sleeping
and the only aisles you spoke about were shopping,
oh do tell, where have those rosary beads been?
Gloria, in (body) excavation
see how the blue moon’ed heart
notches each hope and fear
as bladed teeth marks on old oak
Accident of wings and feathers
lungs filled by breaths of others,
we watched swans in diesel river
waiting migration to Gracelands
where no one called Presley has lived for years
Homeless drunk at foot of hill
told me she’d watched me walking for miles,
so I offered her my shoes and
a cheap bottle of wine labelled
‘What Price Salvation?’
The title got me. The way you wove the bible in this but end it with the drink being labeled ‘What Price Salvation?’ is a damn moment. Good read
Thank you. Seemingly, all we (as a world society) have left is salvation.
This reminds me of the late 60s – early eighties writers. Yes, I’ve read that far back.LOL. My dad loved the old classics, while my sister came to poetry during the 70s. So I saw a great many styles and such.
Almost goes with LSD, this. Seriously! I don’t condone illegal drugs, ahem, yet in moderation many ideas have sprouted for many many writers.
You write on another level, my good man.
you are always too kind Mark.
Brilliantly penned, Ghosteen. This is truly an amazing write my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.
Damian
And I appreciate your kind words Damian.