Welcome
to my new church behold the waters
Glowing
greenly the phosphorescent clavichord
Playing
a slow rag for motley prophets ever
Arriving
with their troubled swagger yes it’s true
The
glacial flowering of their thoughts hurts
To
watch it feels pale and turns wrathfully pink
But
nice-looking pigeons coo from the clerestory
O
see how twin spheres of noise float softly friend
Don’t
assume that just because they evaporate
The
sun doesn’t necessarily rise tomorrow it does
Now
it’s time to walk single file behind me to begin
The month-long tryst of our svelte shadows
We
can hurry through life but we can’t tickle blood
From
the thirty-three madonnas of our new religion
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