It’s a very odd way
to look for God’s face
in these doorways
that seem to pour away
all the brandy
from the bottles,
but I’ve hit
another bottom.
And guided missiles
and misguided men,
guised or
disgusted or
lacklustre,
have never shown me
a better way.
——
See, I’m afraid of my own brain:
How swiftly it runs to its own terrible conclusions,
How fast and with such precision it dives deep into the strongest currents of the sea,
How expertly it wipes away all other realities but this one:
You are a failure.
——
But,
if witches were pin ups
I’d pin you down
and bury my faith
between your honeyed thighs.