More Religious Poetry

I went to dance
in the crowded bar
resplendent in my nudity

I covered up my sweaty
jiggling realities
… akin to everyone’s;
with disapproving, leaking fingers
… but really, everybody had these.

Something inside of me,
but floating in periphery
was the first to point –
and laugh

And the robe of my religion
could not shield me
from rejection
I had no frame of reference –
for automatic writing
of a truth
became a painful

But what truth?
the one that’s told to me
by modern seers with clout the size of
common comic books …

I crack around
the edges of the painting
for an answer …
Seek admission to the temple –
and, denied,
drive all the faster

Now I force (a little)
-a kind of quiet integration
to enlarge the “living room”
that I feel a lonely truth in.

More Religious Poetry

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