Golgotha

I thought
'this must be
what fucking Jesus Christ
is like'

your hips slamming into the thickness
of my thighs
gasps unwillingly escaping
my lips
like little breathless prayers
to dieing saints

my fingers nestled in that crown
of flesh
teeth in my shoulder
I'm searching for
just the right feeling

just the right spot
for a holy vision
and black lights
sparkling before my face

your cheek pressed against mine
leaden breath
ragged in my ear
your fingertips dug
into the meat of my ass
I saw God
in your heavy eyes

your hardened flesh
the spear
little deaths all inside me
little resurrections with each
shuddering thrust

I can almost see your halo
a shining aura of golden light
your lips at my breast
trying to find how deep I go
this holy well
this fount of wicked blood

my tongue so nimble
it utters your secret name
as it wraps around you
snake that I am
with great curled horns
burden of knowledge

I can make you come
for eternity
and feel just how awful
goodness always is

Fire on the Mount

and the preachers preached

'the world;
she is ending.
See there,
fire in the trees, in the trees;
Fire.
Revelation.
God.
God's tongue.
Christ off the cross and looking to hammer some nails.'

bright orange flames licked the sky
off bough and branch
black smoke choked and chimed
and whirled into the horizon
like fingers reaching for the blotted out sun.
Son of God.
God's fingers.
Son of God, hair all fire.
A crown of burning thorns.

and the preachers sang

father are they coming for us?
do I hear angel's horns
or the sirens of ancient fire trucks?
Maybe salvation in the water
drowning in the river,
Baptize me in the name of nails,
Fire jump!
Fire jump the fire break,
Drop your gear and run, boy
drop your gear and run.

and the preachers cringe

they are burning knaves on the wooded edge
they are burning
and we are running
out running ash
falling from grace
falling from the fence line
and grace called our name
screamed
Fire!
Fire!
Look now,
Fire in my hands
in my eyes
all fire
Christ, but did it sting
tears streaming down my face
evaporating in the heated air
sand to glass and my feet bled
howling behind me
all flame with my name on its lips
Fiery lips with my name
my name
Firestorm
my name

standing in the pond
I saw them running
Preachers
hair on fire
God's wrath tasting their backs
nail in my hands
nails in my palms
soot painted on my eyelids

and the flames said
'I am Fire
and you are Wood.
I am the tongue of God.'

the sound deafened and flew over us
the world now orange
licking
underwater I saw it all
and know the name
inscribed on the sky
until the end of days
the black tracts of land
my home
my home now
in
Fire.

Christ,
just
say my name
and burn.

Vicious Poetry

with her hand clenched tight over my mouth
she reached down
and exacted a vicious poetry

syllables rang true only on her tongue
her hand tightening
as I tore through the moment

tore with teeth and lips
nothing trembled so much as vibrated
a million heartbeats every minute
every stuttering breath
melting

her eyes black pools
dead vortexes now fixated on my skin
pin-points of stars caught up in a futile field
eyelashes dipping into unseen seas

between small bones and lovers
her teeth ensnared my name
whispered in high-toned bells over silent sheets
she tricked my language with feverish fingers
until I revealed the last point of expectation and exertion

in the halting movements of stellar bodies
in between her words in dead languages
with the linear sweat between one world and the next
a seam opened in the void

and with her hand still on my mouth
I slipped my fingers in
and touched the shining face
of an exquisitely vengeful god

Blueberries and Ash

I am hounded by your hands
my evil-throated man
the drumming of your fingers on my thighs
the beat of your breath in my ear
all madness

I have taken your unwillingness up in my mouth
rolled it over my tongue
swished it between my teeth
and spat it out again

you taste of blueberries and ash
remind me of my homeland
where the trees bent at my passing
the grass forming knots as I would go

you called me ice maiden
mad with the cold
you called me
the eternal virgin
and sent me on to arid pastures

you looped my hair over your fist
and held me there
mad eyes rolling, mad eyes
you stood on my hands
and tried to reach God

and I am throat
all calling and want
voice straining for Heaven
past your tilting mind
riding your last thought
to stars just above your head

body now my own
unfettered by your slipping grip
your bones under my heals
your neck at an impossible angle

you forever quiet
and me
with Sun in my mouth
rolling on eternal hills
in the Grace of the Ever Shining All

a disturbed resurrection

she believed in Elvis
much more than she believed in god

even as the snake-charming priest
convinced her that virginity was a sin
in the back of a black van
with one broken headlight
on a summers night so hot
that even the walls had begun to sweat

the two big bays
(Mr. Henderson's prize mares)
stood in slow witness at the edge of the field
she could hear their soft throated calls
whispering to each other
as the priest attempted to split her open

as if feeling her insides was a punishment
for the fall from Paradise
and the sins of Eve

when it was all over
when she had stood up and smoothed her dress to her knees
and started her awkward march back home
under an indifferent moon

she let her thoughts turn South and drift
to the holy burning seat of Graceland