by Holly Day
of running away and joining
a cult, or a church, some place where
I can lose myself completely in
fake religion, pure religion, the dreams
of one crazy person with enough hope and love for us all
of humanity. these are the days
I fantasize about stigmata, marking myself
with real bloody holes caused by fake god
about speaking in tongues, kissing snakes
being found on the stoop of kind
missionaries, these are the days
I dream of not being me.
ETHIOPIA by Baxter Jackson
MAMA DOESN'T GO TO CHURCH ANYMORE
by Erren Geraud Kelly
Mama doesn't go to church anymore
Fascism covers the world like an eclipse
As i look for a rainbow at the end of the road
At the coffeehouse she waved at me
I saw her curves, a beat, my heart skips
Mama tells me "you should go to church more"
They're hiring down at the warehouse
The economy, like a concerto, rises and dips
People are looking for a rainbow at the end of the road
The gangs on the streets are your new gods
Watching the news these days, is a trip
I should go to church more
Ford and Carrier didn't go to Mexico
She sits as blues, like kisses fall, from her lips
A con man promises a rainbow, at the end of the road
Stop looking to others for your happiness
Be your own savior, on your life, get a grip
Don't just go to church, but pray to god more
It won't matter who the leader is
He's just a leader, jesus is your king
It won't matter if you go to church more
The rainbow within you is the end of the road
SWORD OF RIGHTEOUSNESS by Brent Wiggans
CHRIST ON FIRE
by Robert Fabre
Christ on fire
Flowers bloom before eyes
Deprived of all sight,
Dance in the moonlight
of clouded endeavors.
from soiled hands.
It seems that saints
have lost the battle.
that kill innocence.
Love is hidden
behind pointed objects,
that pierce the flesh,
that heighten the Now;
Where is the actor?
but now simply an Instrument
DREAM TUNNEL by Ruben Briseno Reveles
by Timothy Pilgrim
Dreams of her swim in again
like red-gilled trout lying deep
in a Montana stream. They school,
eager to feed hold back,
skittish, fearful of being hooked,
flung into tall grass, lying still,
gasping only at the end.
One after another flash past
my Black Ghost skipping by
each, a gold, green streak
reminding me what I catch
I cannot release.