I'm on my third jar
and I never drink
more than two
but now this pistol
looks lovingly at me
more than you do.

Every night
my harrowed mind
dive into our littered memories
that's evermore enshrined in my dreams.

What would I do?
I would sit and watch tv with my 92 year old mom.
Watch a secular program, but also a sermon.
A WONDERFUL SERMON!
I would fast. Not for myself, but for this world.
A world that, for many, has known nothing but
HUNGER. I've done so little of that.
I would do something self sacrificing.
The proceeds of the sale of all my artwork
would go to my family. They would know
what to do with it ...

I would tell EVERYONE ABOUT JESUS!
READ HIS WORD AND ACT ON IT!!

And you? Do you know Jesus?

Read the book of John. At least 3:16.
Read the book of Romans.
At least the 8th chapter.

I'm not sure what the rest of my life
Will be like,  so I will continue my
program with mom.


Catherine Jarvis
5/13/25

You reek of smoke and heartbreak.

There is a forest fire raging in your gaze
that I cannot extinguish with mine.

It can be doused, perhaps—
or smothered
with more eyes and more eyes and more eyes—
but my water pail is filled with Patrón.
I cannot quell it alone.

The thirst in your wildfire eyes
is drying me to leather;
jerky for the vultures.

Maybe they
can quench it.

I am alcohol and lame steak.
You are smoke
and heartbreak.

There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh