mesquite roulade

gazelle i can tell youre sad

the world has been bad to you

it clipped your delicate speed

my steed indeed

wandering west minstrel

the falcon at your behest now astride your breast

the herald of arms

your plume calms the entire empire

columbine supine i speak of jesus at the well

i could not tell his hands were so like my own

the nail the finger the palm overhead

plunging snake neckline like magdalena obscura

hemmed in by horizons and sea bed

great god who moves within everything

great god who moves outside everything

a storm blowing through the tatters on the line

a feeble fist beating on solid iron seam

here where the nimbus salt falls in crystal rain

the whirling fires lift up into the sky

a lion roars on main street

there is a whisper curdling in your phone

in the static you will decipher the cypher of the drone

god is speaking everywhere at once

his voices drown out the silences an ounce

…before the bounce