Originally posted 3/19/2012.

You look like a man 
in need of a punch
to the side of the head

or a piercing
in the side of the body

You’re looking for something that hurts
Something from the hand of a punk
or a Roman soldier

Something you can add to
your Martyrdom Book

Something as good
for starting a conversation
as any 
suicide attempt
colossal drunk striptease
bad haircut

Something to tell
the LADIES about
over a bottle of tears

You look like a man
in need of a narrative
to put it all into

A man in need
of a rabbit to tear apart for effect
as if the rabbit were an envelope
and the winner’s name was inside

A man in search
of a terrible weakling to be

A man
who knows his disease well enough
to call it up for a ride
when he needs
to get somewhere FAST

A man who’s not going to get
that much needed punch in the head
from this guy
because this guy
has no desire
to help you
win your victim badge 

Originally posted 4/27/2009.

Nothing against
palmistry and scrying crystals,
Tarot cards and Zodiac.
All serve the purpose.
It’s their modern monopoly
on divination
that’s troubling.

People act if they couldn’t
find peace and clarity
in the random jumble
of socks in a drawer
or the shadows of skyscrapers 
knifing across downtown streets 
if they tried
when every jammed closet
is a cathedral if you know 
how to pray in it. 

Whenever the ancients and their arts
are called upon
to tell us where we’re heading, 
they must ask themselves,

who are these frightened people
who do not understand how to make do
with what’s right under their noses, cobbling together
a peephole into time from whatever is close at hand?

All we did 
to meet our God 
was add a little attention 
to the mundane.  

Look into our own hands, pick a rock
from the ground and stare into it,
notice a truth when we gambled, 
ask the sky a question and listen.

All we did to meet God
was look for God,
trusting that
we wouldn’t have to look far.