the fall
was slow, rough
bitter, red palmed.
And ashes.
glassy eyed, a slough, sweat
wet and washed, the gloom
of gold.
And saliva.
Apollo descended, Godiva
roamed, Eros marched, God grinned
yellow teeth
For all.
These, I heard,
were gifts of the grieving,
forged by the martyrs, stolen
for the saints
And time
has resurrected fools
for halos-- wings too frail
to carry the masses; to settle
for stigmata,
And golden rings
to bind the mind, as if we
had never carried the cross
Of being alive.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 1:01 AM UTC
the fall
was slow, rough
bitter, red palmed.
And ashes.
glassy eyed, a slough, sweat
wet and washed, the gloom
of gold.
And saliva.
Apollo descended, Godiva
roamed, Eros marched, God grinned
yellow teeth
For all.
These, I heard,
were gifts of the grieving,
forged by the martyrs, stolen
for the saints
And time
has resurrected fools
for halos-- wings too frail
to carry the masses; to settle
for stigmata,
And golden rings
to bind the mind, as if we
had never carried the cross
Of being alive.
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