Hanging on the cross in great suffering,

Jesus cried into the heavens:
Woman, behold your son!

Ceaselessly she beholds all,

Yet none can hold her gaze.  
Time is her filigreed looking glass.
In her reflected eyes:

Now is here.

Here is everlasting.
And here she is.

 
From outside side itself,
She beholds her son,
The son of a lover long-gone,
The son of some god.

Vastly and immaculately she sighs,

returns to her looking glass,

and reclines into all creation.

The dunes are dead and so am I,

encased in wind. The desert sighs.

It longs for life but not for me,

for I have joined its vast debris.

In No Time we'll be as one

swept, dissolved under the sun,

too dispersed to be displaced,

too undefined to be effaced.

thereupon the ceiling of the world

sits our callow god,

helplessly sovereign,

slackjawed & drooling sweet rain,

each jagged tooth in his idiot grin

a brilliant star in the void he calls home.

we look for him, we seek to worship,

every prayer a scam,

the holy pyramid scheme enlarges.

staring down into the earthly dunghill he's built,

the pointless games he's officiated,

unleashing fire and blood,

he rocks as he squats to shit,

muttering to himself

the song of all creation.

Philsophy of _____

the night stars cascade across the velvet sky

like a goblet of diamonds spilt by god on the dimensionless black curtain

that separates the earthen realm from the heavenly abyss

o, what stain!

seeing it all in its milky extravagance

atop these violet windswept dunes i'm overcome

by retroactive loss that blackens my past

my life has been so long

yet how will i ever finish it

the wind and snow won't relent
my eyeballs feel nearly frozen, i stare at my feet
as i march toward the darkening horizon

the white landscape turning to ash as the sun rolls away
let me check the mail - just junk
let me empty the dishwasher

i empty the dishwasher

i try to meditate i am emptying the dishwasher now

but i'm so very tired

i should leave here but i don't know the way

another hour of video games, feeling near frozen

stare at my feet, when did it start snowing

the streets are already white

and all the people hurry toward the darkening horizon

i can barely see the snow

all i see is snow

should i bother to clean this window screen

when spring comes, as the sun rolls away

i take a seat on the couch and wonder why i

should leave here but i don't know the way

don't know why i should keep this place nice at all

should i water the plants or did i already

turn to ash, ash for miles and miles

freezing ash that burns my eyes