Published: 6 January 2026

1,000 lives

1,000 lives.
Each one never perfect,
undone by the weakness of living.
One life as an aesthetic only to hate more.
One life as an addict only to suffer more.
One life as a dog to experience humiliation.
One life as king more than enough.
One life as gambler, all meaning won and lost.
One life as priest and God failed over and over,
always for the same reason, not enough love.
Every life lived, never enough love.

But, should there not be ambition,
passion, temptation, oh sweet embrace of flesh?
1,001 lives are not enough.

More Poetry:

Visit from the mother

Mother hummingbird,
pray perch on subtle twig of lilac,
wise to trust, or so I tell myself,
pirouette so I may admire electric green

River of paper

River of paper flows beneath my every word,
where would my thoughts be but for this substrate?

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

variation on psalm 137, By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat
hands drumming on ribs, feet, the ground,
the mouths of pots and guns beckon,
the wind, the clouds, are the sight of sound
to the deaf, the foreign, the prisoner.
This bridge is the harp hung across
the tears of our sorrow. Each life

Everyone wants to love me

Everyone wants to fall in love with me.
I know it.
The guy in the lineup
who waved the cucumber at me
and said, I could hit you with this
was really saying he loves me.

what is it you don’t get?

based on psalm 83 ”Keep not thou silence, O God” KJV
if you don’t want to talk it’s not all right by me
I would really appreciate a moment of your time
as I am listening to more hatred, than those who
hate you can raise, lousy lizard heads, how they despise you

Related

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

How Shall We Sing The Lord’s Song In A Strange Land?

variation on psalm 137, By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat
hands drumming on ribs, feet, the ground,
the mouths of pots and guns beckon,
the wind, the clouds, are the sight of sound
to the deaf, the foreign, the prisoner.
This bridge is the harp hung across
the tears of our sorrow. Each life

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