Holy expletive,
Crack patch spackle,
On the ceiling
Of the Sistine Chapel
God says, “Pull My finger.”
But we’re just trying
To make a clean plane
Of existence for our
Space photos and
Bending crucifixes.
And still you sit
In your tub praying
To fill some Jesus’
Stigmata with your
Lightbodied foul mouth.
But the kind of holes
That need stopping
You can’t span, can you,
With your muddy clerestory?
You bet your sweet ass you can’t.
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3 comments:
You should keep writing in this vain. These are getting good. I like this one. Nice suprises with most every line.
Yes, write vainly.
Thanks. I feel I'm getting closer to where I want to be. The aesthetic I'm aiming for is a circus sideshow with the false front of the Pantheon. You know, a little marble façade to better show off the wolflady's beard. So far, so good.
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