Aiming for a creative life

I Am Santo

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Get my science
My inglorious monolith
Gleaming like a wet spire
Left to inspire
The quiver, shake, shudder
Of breathless ecstasy
And a soul back-broken,
Half-intent and bent
Wondering why this wasn’t home
And the cordial moan
Was a sip when a draft beckoned
Begged and swore
The cuss of yearning
An unblessed prayer
Where God turns the shallow eye
Quaffs from sweeter nectars
And sentences the lonely
For the lost,
Spirits sent whirring
In the bloodstream of tomorrow,
Always yesterday’s mistake.
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