Thursday, May 7, 2020


This one is obsessive
like the green beans of star dollars
charred so badly that its ashes
pioneer through mounds of cream and sugar
that would, quite dogmatically
never be added to any mug

Others are compulsive
so we're told, yet this one's a broken record 
of twanging strings and acts of reading
over and over and over
with words like bees hovering around my lobes
and forty messages a day to chug

The mantra of everyone else's disorder
is repeated again and again and again
and the leitmotif of calling, leading, and Jesus praying
blessing us with a loud voice rising early in the morning
refreshing each like continually dripping water
nipping every intrigued pant leg as a puppy dog

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