Prisoner's Wreath #2
This charcoal way surrounds my spot in dust
Dusty property
the grit of the word
Word it so the song persists in a trust
The trust you've shown with hardness in the void
The plenum: IThe window's open now
Now open the circumcision for air
Air out the room with that mouth on this vowel
Umbilicus mundi hereroom to spare
Spare us in your mercy from too close air
My eyes are closedI wait for guests disguised
Disguised guests may come and go at leisure
Leisure here at my expensetry this leisure
Letter from Prison #2
us with no light
the dog edging its nose
out the window and snapping the air
for a beaconthe river turned over
the congregationstretched
Paul saysI, therefore,
prisoner of the Lord
on interstates stay
on interstates
sputtering little generator in the neighborhood
just work worthy
for emergency spillsin my unbelief
more frequent since
the testimony