Original poem #43

Cigarette Sacrament

working with pencil
and broken prayer bone meter
here in a window
 on the whole of the world
what next

i write to be alone
while watching the walkway north
waiting for the sperpent's whisper
and that writhing
 lusty rush of words

sealed in a spirit cage
 all fleshy
already ripening to bare me out
beyond ambition and glass
stone towers and streetcars
institutions
all things slick and polished over

i'm stuck to the edge of forever
just hoping
that the last witch's reading
 was right
so
 it's cigarettes as sacrement
  for this notebook tonight


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