It’s a spiritual practice to imagine a deep web of interconnections
between us and every other living creature on this planet and yet
how precisely this practice fails.
You expect me to understand our native allegiance like a sinner understands that their calling is penance. But I don’t know what you want from me if churches are still segregated and the confession box is on your side of the chapel.
I Once Was Lost
but now am found by big fast broken billboard promises
amnesia of interrogation
amnesia of incommensurate cant
amnesia of commandeering enough space
to bring the sleeves in and collar the hem
imagine but do not pretend
these brimful automatons all mouth
these dismal prodigies
represent the sole order we’ve ever known
we have been released into nothing morethan mere ritualshorter days warmer monthsnew discoveries year after year this truth starts firing
for fear of trial, we lose the fightlord drag us back to the gutterwhere all things weak break free—