Sunday, March 6, 2011

To leave god/painted inside the gut

You may find history ends luminously/ ends bathed
in steady lumens/ Or you found it never ends/ Always
you knew the ceiling falls in five hundred years

No creature breathed/ nor bathed in light
to witness another history made from piles
No iguana’s 3rd eye pale / and blinking/ No drag
of armored tail/ over/ the bearded god’s
fallen hand

The hand the painter with his neck
careened/ up/ five trips around the Sun
strained/ to leave god/ painted inside the gut

To become/ nearly light/ Aching the lumens
in his body as he stood on scaffolds/ suspended
knowing it would fade/ it would

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