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Wednesday, September 3, 2014

2012 (Olivos)



Truths
Absorbed like the Holy Scripture of my Youth.
Faithful as Fievel, 
my childhood fantasy 
my companion.
Perpetual pull to the West.
Sacrilegious
I didn't choose it. 
Scapegoat phrases.

Blue, green, red, gold, 
white, and black are
definitely not the colors of a rainbow.
Homemade salvation accessories.


The red screamed.
The black stuck.
The white was lost
out west with Fievel.


Eternity flows through my body
like the cheap leather lanyard that
unified the beads of salvation.
The beads of my youth.
Each an accessory,
a paradox,
a fix.