Supplication—the blown out surf
and a beach party tonight
past the blue house w the lilies
to love them is to leave them
in bloom, what am I gonna do now
radio 104 distorts
god’s in those waves
in the back of beyond
saying a prayer
is like reading a poem
into a wishing well
in the shade by the dunes
wet dust, replete with suffering
blessed are the poor in spirit
as such: the riches of imagination
affliction, last sunrise of may
–we are apart
so two cold mornings
mistress to my morals
exalted by what stretched them
show me the poetry
that makes life worth living
the tragic in people
are the obvious things
they don’t see in themselves
hard to find what you want
let’s take a moment there
power wash the deck
to empty the mind
of the image repertoire
I’ve been eating
these candies
you left behind
so unlike me, they’re
sour and don’t last

note: an earlier version if this poem appeared in The Quarterless Review.