astonishing and young
Balaam and his donkey
there is too much
that you have not heard
nothing before my birth
ever really happened
our meeting bore dark lines
on the brow of heaven
our saint has been beheaded
his widow is colourless
like an eyelid or the moon
an elongated blue jay
singing anthems to a stadium
of worms and Allah
will love you always
for the rest of us
get out some one way
behind double-breasted
Monk Eastman suits
sunburned retinas
on an old Harley
without the muffler