who lead in a whole gang
and the ostriches are bagged,
oh Lord, I am feeble in heart
as the money machines with the souls of tight-lipped or drooling demons
make batteries out of a million ants.
Help me to stop trying to save my life,
as this ship heats up.
I remember Your magnitude
because I am just a dust mote.
The sheep stone the shepherd
and they skip every direction, bleating.
I lose my interest in all this cardboard,
history of a people and its art
who sigh under squidly beaks
and laughing, laughing, drinking, sinking.
Fixed gazes, inward stares;
drink the kiss and paint the frack-well green.
a screen.
I have no sustainable resource to configure upon this stone of grace--
Help me stop trying to save my life--
my soul faints--
Oh, my beloved Shepherd.
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