...
clay footed candievangelist
(the butcher, the baker, the candy-maker)
supported
by an iron rod
oddly
indulgent
the suit
coat screams...
the suit coat offers candy
what
does the city drooling care
as it lathers another morsel
over
its tanned hide
rock, wind, rain, fire
dust
to dust,
in dust prostrate
begging
for life, breath and
blood
who is empty? who is filled? who know naught of either?
our pride argues against the mother of god,
various left wing
groups,
and certain right wing factions
as the bull of this city gores us
and the bowels of our compassion
spill out upon nothing.
cf.escue
copywrite 2001 cf.escue, all rights reserved