Sunday, May 29, 2005

180. fishing in belfast

a sun-speckled dazzle
dancing coins of light
the wet water

Liam, before he died
so horribly ...

the windshield wipers
chick, thunk ... chick, thunk,
outside the Northern Bank and Trust,
the rain gleaming streets
almost beautiful,
slashed with reflected neon ...

Bon Jovi

the wink and shine
on each individual bullet

Help me find Thy grace, O Lord,
now in my hour of need

such sweaty hands, a Belgian
gun: is the safety off? which
way does it go?

You can crucify me
upside down, I haven't
tried that before.

A gun in my hand
feels good, redirects
the course of Empire.

I am a soldier
I will answer none of your questions.