∝

Song? I wish.
sing softly on the leveled road
my heart, my heart, my heart
stooping into brimstone land
and clinging still to god--
where is a winged shelter--
                           all I see is a ceiling of thorned bramble.
how in denial is the Lord,
                             that he would make sin:
                             the pursuit of
                             a fellow flower.

Alternative title: My God is Gay, but He Lives in the Closet!

Prompts: 1 [1,2]; 2
second one has no title lalala

The Oracle
oh prophet of the sea—
what words can you bring to us?
we have the courage to discuss—
what are our losses then?
we want to sail free
where have our stories been?

all seas sailed are treacherous
but for you luck makes this less
and she will test your consciousness—
but your patience means little to the wind;
perpetual sailing will prove no godsend.

[so she wrote this on the veined leaves
where ink overflowed there came a missing piece
but regardless she gathered them again
and in their faces scattered these to the wind.]

one day maybe a world for sailing
one day maybe another story
even with the sea’s worst
here your name will live a bit.

-

the house is empty
except for one tv and an internet router
and a lot of dairy products
stuffed into the garage
(since there is no fridge)
and a lot of sleeping bags
and everyone
scattered in the living room gambling
to decide where tomorrow’s lunch would be
eating twelve grapes in a minute
as the clock ticks down one more year
and the announcers screw up the countdown.
(there is only space to fill.)