Four Voices IV: Fucked

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video for “Image of God”

Image of God

Dad’s grave erupted from fiber
glass drops and the looming
shadows of a wooden shell.

The trawler’s nets caught
nightmares, and the missing
green paper tore at pride

not once before infected.
But the poison of Wall’s
greed trapped his pepper

white and gray beard,
as denim tuxes hung
like undertaker wraps,

sackcloth, and the black
robes that haunt cracks
in leather hands. Teeth

went first as his wide
god-man shoulders
haunted gray windows

and even grayer doors.
The brown rot ate
and chewed upon cheeks.

During Jeopardy, Dad sat
hunched, sipping Campells
cream of chicken in low

wet rasps as warmth
laced the wounds seeping
toxins into failing blood.

The mind had no time
to crumble. He climbed
into the white Chevy

and drove off Milledge
bend to find a place
to dream

of new wood molds
and the sharp sweet

sting of resins lurking
hiding

tearing apart the silk
of lungs.

Over Coffee: For My Wife On Her Birthday

I ask her a question so dumb
That I immediately laugh to myself:

“What do you dream about?”
She answers with a light laugh,

A smile bright as all spring’s
Proud Azaelas: “To work

With flowers.” A simple
Dream maybe, but with

Words light and wet
As morning dew on pink

Petals, she reminds me
Once again of why I fell

So Hard for her. I kiss
Her lips and hold her

Close to my heart.
All black earth’s gems

darken at the fleeting
Light’s rays and colors

Of her dreams shop.
I could live there with her.

Gout

Bark into your gold
mike and swell like

infection, filled
with rot and pride:

stagnant, green
with blood’s long

absence. But carry

on dead campaigns.
Salute the old rust

and flaked cores
of hollow country,

mourned by Wasps
that sting and kill

as life abandons
their hopes and fear.

The founding fathers
crumbled to dust

hundreds of years
ago. No one told

you did they?
So throw black-

red roses on graves
unmourned, as blood

leaves cake the earth
around swollen feet.

The gout has begun
its advance. Soon

your words will soften,
and the aphid horde

will wander aimlessly,
lost in a despair

so full and deep
their teeth will tear

at all who cross them.
Your dittoheads will

EaT eAch otHer.

Cyber Brain

Cyber Brain

Grey matter could beep
one day.

I fucking swear, we’ll
store data

in the folds of blood
and flesh

brains for others to pick
apart

and crack-snap like
fortune

cookies. You want
to live

that way? Immortal,
cold,

digital? Just keep
Googling.

Paran’s Gospel: A mix of Science Fiction and Verse

Paran’s Gospel

A voice breaks the black depths as stars whine

And draw their labored breath.

The Black One brings quiet and pause

In a veil of wringing hands,

Cracking teeth, and torn flesh. Paran clasps

Something far beyond

Creation’s black wall. Though we pray and hope

The dark gates break,

And his spidery limbs can divide the space

Between air and thought,

We doubt. The Seele prowl, and walk

An endless path.

Paran, take us away from life’s grip

To a place unknown,

Unseen, Unheard, Unthought.

Live, and our death

Sings its wretched words through

Endless song.

Whatever heaven you find,

Tell the angels

Of our sins, our pleasures

And our failed faith.