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Sunday, September 13, 2009

new work published in WTF magazine
For Saint Paul

When the mountains are burning

We are flushed with the anger of living,

Standing on the narrows above

A pit of unknowing and a collection

of halos gathered around

our souls like the demons

of the ego, unexplained


We recognize as our own

But refuse to own, orphans

Relegated to canals and

Tiny railroads where the freight

They carry is transported

To those we love

With the least possible


So that the pain will have

no dominion.

Let us dance there, together.

We will be naked as art is naked .

And we shall have children

Born of this dancing that shine

With the same glow we allow

To consume us as we touch

Eternity in loving one another.

Saint Paul drunk with fear

For his own life, admonishing

Us that our beds are

Temporary at best,

But beloved refuges

Where we may lay each to each,

Watching these very mountains


And feel that it is a privilege

To stand near the fire,

Not burning, but singing.

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