Apocalyptic Vision
A dream yields an
essence of the past.
Prostrate before
altars where no
one worships
lays the Deity of Man.
This place
belongs to a generation
forged in furnaces that technology
built,
then deconstructed for a better
purpose”?
the end of a man
hides between the pages
of a desiccated book
about sex, love
pain and mystery.
This the vision;
this the future;
this the end.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth telephones
to ask how I’m doing so far.
It’s a gift to be in the beam
of Elizabeth’s interest.
There’s something loving
in her way with words.
We walk a
remember when trail.
Elizabeth invites me
in, she understands.
Her prayer is
a spiritual renaissance
touching my spirit:
It breaks free,
soars into a sunlit sky
where broken-nes
passes between us.
