the age of crucifixions
john sweet
some sort of
religion
this man who rapes
coma victims
close to his
god
possibly
in the same room
thinking of
names for the
unborn child
and the sun
doesn't
turn black
the oceans don't
empty themselves of
themselves
we've come too far
into the
twentieth century
the age of
crucifixions
just one more happy
memory
my words all
spilling from
the hole in
hemingway's
head
meaning-
less
