Devil Dog

Had I alone harbored the guilt of her dying
wishing her sicker,
aloud, it would have been
exactly the same—

Had she not been laughing: anyway.

Lunacy through-to her eyes
and nose; Lunacy from chin
through-to each ear; The calumny animal
wailing dusk carpeting brick
outside a light-sampling, yellowish kitch-
enette’s window,

no real threat.

Platform

hidden injuries of my ass
With so much docile stasis

forelit by facial logical code
a chance for prayer is

—questioning unflourished
accentless textual halos

over unconscious
skull-wrapped crowns of chill

The form of our medium compels
certain dramatic literality

jealousy among creations
in the beginning as (a thorny sprig?)

finding one’s place to stand
is out of fortune achieved without tears

Prayer

How accustomed we’ve become
to seeing the evil
of others,
through fragile sets of thought.

Easy our hearts find menace,
sinister calculation
and malice—
clothed in the flesh of a stranger;
Mother, brother, lover.

Do the works I now lay down
before us, and lay down
with me,
within them.

Ask not for retreat
until rest seeks you—finished,
ready for assumption,
the judgement’s mantle
at last,
a perfecting fit.