A note—
E, D, C♯—
held, not going anywhere.
The rose at the window—
petal and spiral,
not in stages.
The notes fall like sand—
broken,
and whole.
Tag: poetic fragment
Blaspheme
Lips spit: I am the chosen one. I am the way. I am law—
by force alone I shatter.
Men bow—dirty knees, tongues lapping gilt from the calf.
Sacrifice: tablets, inheritance, will.
Northcoast Antiquarian 