serious about her position, head to tail,
a vector reaching for the stars now go
undo all the misery that you detail
flipping a stick and throwing a blow
it gets pretty dense between your legs
when our author compresses our speech
and looks onward to the motion he begs,
when, for an apple, he extends his reach
sipping knowledge (as it were) from a spoon
ganging up, sweetheart, on what we assume,
stepping, now, to a different tune
as we make our way to a general tomb
fire in the hole - discovered at noon
no shadow, then, to make me confused
that said, darling, Christ is coming too soon
my soul (and my ego) are awfully bruised,
The Scarlet Letter, my love, is my story
Our flesh should remain forever twain
based, heretofore, on God’s greater glory
suffering a little, but no longer in pain
divided, I am, by my task in heaven,
something far and away important and true
pornography, lo, i see nothing but men
doing what i shun, now that I’m with You,
my life in a bottle? let’s make a toast,
to the life we abandon: we let Him in—
Moby dick, lover boy, has left his post
not a fan, anymore, of your soapy chin
gurgling saltwater to recover His voice
Go down Moses You’re the answer I face
Choosing You was always Your choice,
release me, then, from a state of disgrace,
no burning bush - now his temper flares,
turn down the volume, rearrange the past
everybody knows: nobody really cares
saving the Jews and the love they abuse
when they turn, heel to heel, on each other,
working through issues that missiles uncover
they can’t help it since they had a brother,
step in, then, and you can be her lover