)
the gospel shakes toughest place meanest dang
caper imagination mothers i must admit this
spit was hot we must gather round gather
round the fireside please please we need
more rattlesnakes more chickensnakes more
bellies for the beasts
my brethren run in broad shoes, my breath
inhales nostalgia and exhales
foamy whispers
passion’s armada
no. this is not yr mother’s milkshake
yr uncle’s saliva, each wall
is a universe
and behold god
once darkened skin
of those who let
go of the iron
rod but now it
is no longer PC
to have wives
or darken skin
for evil ways
my eyes will break, have broken
into the old sockets, the old
golden plates, chopping heads
off for righteousness ah ha
um hum please keep running
me over with your soft wheels