Sunday, May 22, 2011

I've Been Talking with Dmitri and Job

"Glory to the Highest in the world,
Glory to the Highest in me!"

O thee, we keep me from saying these words
lying upward, the ceiling
staring down from its corners
at me, naked and white, ultra neon glowing

unangelic.

Me, not bent or mown down,
but crazy with height, loft,
dizzy till you knock me down
in the dirt. My face wants it,

to smell the smell of rain's father.

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