reading

Something to commemorate last night's reading in Long Beach.

reading

the ragged rage on the dog-eared page
feels fresh between my teeth, the relief
of the release and the peace of the madness
when the roar consumes me and I am irrelevant.
even God said the Word is the eternal,
the infernal cannot stand against the tensed,
sensed and incensed gout of fire and desire
that transfigures and disfigures me.
it was always me, and always me alone,
atoning for thin sins skinned for clothing
for those who didn't know the dance.
self-conscious murmurs like snake-charmer smiles
as the blond in the front row nods
to words that are about someone else,
wasting her desire on a bound satyr.
I echo my prayers until they reverberate
and I am shaken to the sore core that soars
high above the dying to speak in a tongue of
unfeigned pain and a stain of red,
worn as a badge of pride and honor.
and God smiles.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.