you came to me krastic
and humbly
fantastically
you opened me
with the praises raised
from your mouth and the kisses of your mouth
and your infinite tongue
and finally, your body across me
you in the country of me
the length of the tight body
pelted in black hair
touched me marvelously
the tight roundness of behind
and smell of breath
worked on me marvelously
in the depths of an Easter night
you made love to me masterfully
deep your kisses
you loved me krasticly!

on this sacrament, which i am convinced,
is placed on
every altar there is no blood,
but only life
and i am now the universal mother,
doing only what a father can do, pinioned
under you, giving up my pole,
like a cross or a pillar, or a breast
to your mouth so that you can enter
the second childhood, so that you
can feed and feed on my seed
and we are both transported
out of ego into longing
to becoming' to freeing,
to being
all that lonely, dough
faced men envision,
watching expensive videos while they
jism and waste away
we
were on fire
we were bright day

christian kindness carries its
own cruelty
and nine tenths of the time the ones
who bear it wear a bible round their
necks and while they let us know they
take up their crosses boldly,
there is no hiding it,
we are the ones who waste our
time carving it all the day
now that the day has come
and not the twilight
do not with weary faces
and woebegone expressions
celebrate your jesus
now that yellow touches the sky
do not dress in black and grey and go
on and on about rules and duty
as yet, fed on saint paul and bleached
out purity
we haven't learned about the pleasure

beyond the rolled away stone
was the sweet smell
of magdalene's perfume
and of the grass just grown

now that you have come back i don't
know what to do.
i have made a mythology of suffering
and dealing with you,

 of taking wounds
into myself again and again
now that you are here how will i ever
make sense of pleasure, how will i
ever celebrate the joys of lust fulfilled
of the time we wheeled about and
rolled in bed all night long
springs creaking till dawn
and to the light on lilies

clearly, i don't know how to
deal with resurrection

PALM SUNDAY

and now
after the scourging
after the pillar and the slap on the face
and how everyone tried to capitalize on
my devotion
and I tried to make it fit in
there is the procession of palms
we’re all holding fronds
and none of us is dancing.
Catholics want to sing
they want to jubilate
but who knows how?
here in the Midwest
where the daffodils push up through the ice
what counts, what’s best is to be nice
in our khakis and Oxford blue shirts

But I want to be intoxicated

God when you rode an ass into the church
when you drove out the changers and the ushers
and the priests
and everyone carrying on
trying to be someone
carrying on their backs carcasses
and corpses
and corpses
of names
and titles
and dignities
lord,
what I did was take off my shoes
and take of my tie
all dignity flies
in the face of something more
that after searching
scourging
reading
fasting
resisting

i just want to be crazy

i just want to be mad
i just want to wander and sit on the floor of your house
drunk with jesus
and everyone who sees us
will think we’re mad
and that could be the end

“There is a tree” they sing
“There is a tree”
faraway
on a green hill…
on a hill
and if this ecstasy kills
then is there room on your cross for me?

I I

it has taken too long and too many wounds
to get the shadow of peace in this house
how, if i'd just closed my eyes, would it have come?
and i am tired of looking for love
where it will not come
ataring into the pool, waiting for
the sunken ball to glow

i have given myself to grim master, over and over
again
and for all alleged sin,
pluto won't take me in

unclench your fists in the sanctuary
after the sackcloth time of waiting
bury all sadness in snow and sin

i do believe the Dark King of all
my dreams is beyond the door
waiting for me

let the king and queen of love come in

IN THE WEEK OF PALM SUNDAY

and now it appears you will not
be coming back
anyone who ever had the desire to change my
life never stayed in it beyond five minutes
ah, and i thought you were it
ah, and i spent three weeks dabbing
the wound, knitting the tear
when you had left
and now i know it is true
to forgive is to forget

wipe yourself in sun, and go on
love is all around
dust yourself up, anything you thought would come from him
will most certainly come again

jarred by the picture of your face
i remember the brownness of you
startled by the elfin perfection of your little body
in love with the length of cock
with the walnut sack, with the smell of
cologne and that late summer time mercy
when in a hurry you came to my house and in a moment were
naked before me
in a moment were inside
and we collided again and again
and i held you then
i became the earth and the mother
and you the husband, and you the
elf
and you the child
in a while
there will be another such wind
and then goddess of easter
and lust will send you again

it is best, it is best
to live in readiness
down with these tired eyes
down with these sharply held shoulders
down with the mantra"
life is full of disappointments
though it be
down with the protest
the animal duress
it is best
it is best to live in readiness
knowing tha no one else will ever be ready
the heady wine of life boiling in you
will simply have to be quinched
men and women for
centuries have been lynched
or lynched themselves for
being too excited