He hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch again,
The shadow of the cross from the steeple
Landing in the middle of the watch.
A sigh echoed through the church courtyard,
And a few rats scurried out of their hide-aways.
They should be here by now.
The moon hung in the sky,
Trying and failing to shed light on what was below.
The harsh noise of a truck on gravel reached his ears,
And he breathed a sigh of relief.
The newcomer parked the truck and lumbered out,
Holding several filthy beer bottles in his large, grimy hands.
“Here you go.”
His voice was gruff, calloused even, as if it was being
Grated like cheese.
Money from the priest’s hands went into the driver’s hands,
And when the priest looked into his eyes,
They spoke legends of ******.
The truck drove away, and
Pretty soon the courtyard was silent again,
Except for the hoot of an owl,
The contented sigh of the priest, and the
Pop of a beer bottle being opened.

I step in a space
Between time
Breath in
The same scents of eons ago
No matter how much changes
I remain anchored
In a ceremony timeless

I wonder if you know
how often I pass
that church door where we kissed
(and kissed, and kissed)

Or how I'd desecrate
a thousand more
just to do it again
(and again, and again).

It feels now like a deal with the devil,
and too good, it lasted as long as one would.
For rapturous blasphemy, for ludicrous bliss,
I sold all my fears for just one shot at this.

I wonder if you know
that we are our own devils,
that nothing's contracted
that can't be redacted

That we spin our own fates
and can re-thread our revels -
Did you know? But you must,
(you must, you must.)

Yet I'm sure that you won't
and that all that we built
is crumbling, returning,
To dust, to dust.

Which church corner should I go to
which is safe with green lights?
It seems every one has glue and goo
rays of sun and dark of night.

Being a follower - not my big skill
not comfy on the disciple ship
but I’m hungry and want my fill
trying to get God in my grip.

But I keep finding him all over the place
can’t capture and save him just for me
see him in a cat’s and a child’s face
he won’t be my prisoner.  He is free

like his forgiveness and open heart.
So this ship is one I might board
the ship of joy about to depart
the cost of this trip I can afford.

St Paul stands
stiff as a stone
recovering from
centuries of sinful sorrow
buttocks bare
waiting next to an Itsu.

"This is church, this is where you come to forget"
listen to our pastor confirm
prescribed frail justification
bless my bruises, drink my blood?                                        
we will give you our food money if you will allow us to make an offering
i promise you, it's more than 10 percent.

we will go home after this halted hour
march to our waiting stations                                       
she would leave her bedroom if she could.
she has a headache again.
your mother is busy praying.                                                         ­                     

Father shows us grace.
Father shows us heaven.
Father shows us stars.                                           
Father shows us stars, too...                                          
every night, I pray to them.

The moon is my goddess,
her beams lights my path.
In this religion, enlightenment is not a process
but a forever state of mind to have.

The forest will be my church,
roots will be my holy text.
I want trees instead of gravestones
and the wind will listen as I confess.

I will taste the moonlight,
will become one with the goddess.
Since heaven isn't on earth,
and I must have access.