I am taking a five-day posting hiatus, as I will be in a cabin in northern Maine without electricity, let alone internet access. I will continue writing poems up there, so I'll post a whole batch when I get back.
in the meantime, enjoy this quasi-gospel hunk of crack.
All night I walked heavy on the floor.
Hooted and sang put my palms to my head.
All that I am I pounded with a pestle
and baked into a loaf of black bread.
Pickle me in brine
bury the jar.
Take me to the mountain
where the fireflies are.
I’m gonna drink a jar of holy water
I’m gonna drink a bottle of wine.
I’m gonna sing for my soul, I’m heaven’s daughter,
I’m gonna sing for this soul of mine.
Showing posts with label poem 109. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem 109. Show all posts
Sunday, January 3, 2010
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