tonight could be the night
my tongue gets lucky
books a corner booth
nicely candled
and a window
with a view to
the starry borders
of a warm summer night
so far though
it’s dictating like
the same old meat
and frozen gossip
I’ve tasted lately
while I sit outside
this shuttered tavern
which used to be my heart
true lovers of God fully prostrate knees chest arms and face on grimy tile filthy carpet leaf litter even rough gravel to slather their affection onto Him with such feeling and practiced devotion t
your soul is like a horse that tires of the well-worn path to the trough the same dry oats and brittle straw the smell and gloom of a familiar stall the muscles of your chest pressing a little too har
pull and drip pull and drip pull and drip a golden smudge spreads across an arc of indigo sky the sun yellows the church tower chases candlelight back through windows and around the shadows of ruffled