aaron mccollough

 

PRISONER’S WREATH #2

 

This charcoal way surrounds my spot in dust

Dusty propertythe grit of the word

Word it so the song persists in a trust

The trust you’ve shown with hardness in the void

The plenum: IThe window’s open now

Now open the circumcision for air

Air out the room with that mouth on this vowel

Umbilicus mundi hereroom to spare

Spare us in your mercy from too close air

My eyes are closedI wait for guests disguised

Disguised guests may come and go at leisure

Leisure here at my expensetry this leisure

 

 

LETTER FROM PRISON #2

 

us with no light

the dog edging its nose

out the window and snapping the air

for a beaconthe river turned over

the congregationstretched

Paul saysI, therefore,

prisoner of the Lord

on interstates stay

 

on interstates

 

sputtering little generator in the neighborhood

just work worthy

for emergency spillsin my unbelief

more frequent since

the testimony