July 03, 2010

In the Middle of the Bible Belt

The clocks were set below the surface.
There is no faith. There is no trust.
Believe nothing, child of God.
Give them stillness.

I find myself listening
when no one is watching,
and I hear the world
praise the devil.
Grave as bourbon clouds,
the ghost of neglect
swirls around us,
desolate as straw.

These crazy drunk days,
our brains explode.
Dangerous stars gaze up,
blinking assassins unmasked.