Zealot: Collected Prison Poems, Part Four

Contents


A faith of my own
Form Fitting
Crucible
Hard lessons writ in flesh
Wounded Animals
Resistance on our tongues
Tongue Shark


 

A faith of my own

To take
10,000 songs
and a dozen years
and all the stars
and all the eyes
in the entire world
And melt them down
into a single
gemĀ 

It may be true
that i am but a single grain of sand
shimmering
and yet
this is
my daily
offering
to you.

 

 

Form Fitting

Like
sweatpants
longjohns
gym shorts
boxer briefs

i am nothing
til filled
with you.

 

Crucible

Losing
again and again
what i never gained

This Crucible
is making me
into
a true Lover.

Hard lessons writ in flesh

To grow
in yearning youthful bodies
trembling eyes
hands hesitant
with thirst
for touch

How many
beautiful young men
torn from our birth right
And countless nights
in sweat
turning in regret
Before i came to know
in my body
your sanctity.

 

Wounded Animals

Precious
Clay of many colors
imbued
with Soul
twisted by circumstance
and warped
by this wretched god
that Man has wrought
So that all beauty
has come to signify pain
And Soul
is become a quaint commodity
And the lush gardens
have been pressed
into the service
of Civilization,
that foul deity,
scarring and tearing
the wet Clay
until at last
the inheritance is
a wasteland
strewn
with
wounded animals
wandering.

 

Resistance on our tongues

From
thiktrunk
tonguespread
slides
along hard acres
to high up
bulbous
perfectbliss
tongue flick
eyesmeet.
From
teeth
on lips
and wet
stomachs
bulgingmuscle
to tongues
on nipples
giving answer
to that ancient question:
For what purpose
do men have nipples?
For to launch
revolutions with our tongues.

 

 

Tongue shark

Tough, but
butt
nuts
and lips
Swallowing tongue whole
Wrestle this serpent.