The Future Is A Fog That Is

Look To Your Heart That Flutters In And Out Like A Moth. God Is Not Indifferent To Your Need. You Have A Thousand Prayers But God Has One.

Somebody Who Should Have Been Born Is Gone.

Yet Love Enters My Blood Like An I.v., Dripping In Its Little White Moments.

God Has A Brown Voice, As Soft And Full As Beer.

Despite My Asbestos Gloves, The Cough Is Filling Me With Black, And A Red Powder Seeps Through My Veins.