December 2006
monolith
Throne in a Room
(based on a bad
dream)
In a stone
chair, picture a fiery man,
Like an
unholy cloud of fantasy.
A trace of
blood, stained with God,
A lion-bull,
bat winged man with
Golden tools
of belief hanging
From his
cool, sanitary wisdom.
Outside, a
freak weather of cook pots,
A
ghetto-watch and kettle wash edge,
kindles a wary smoke-surplus in the
Smudge-black air, met with gathering
Indifference
to heaps of hopeless need
Glowing down
from his make-believe.
The Cosmos
watches, takes on the
Dreamer with
torches and testing,
Where lines
of overnight pilgrims arrive
To be tapped
and patted down, their
Cheeks
spreading, yes, blotches
All the
color of disbelief, spreading
Despite every sacred holiday fact
Into the
emptiness and everywhere
Beyond
everything that matters.
Have a Merry
Christmas no matter
who's in charge
of the melt down.
