ELEVATION

I carved
tiny crosses
into my flesh
so that I might
bear them better

wrote over all my tattoos
the words of St Francis

but not
my picture
of you

my soul’s
elevation.

OUR HANDMADE LOVE

our handmade love
we
knocked

the nails in
ourselves

long, long raking nails
blood red

SMELL OF NAPALM IN THE MORNING

SMELL OF NAPALM IN THE MORNING

it’s victory that
does it for us

has us on the rim
of the galaxy seemingly quarantined

but in that word
the secret of T
price and
meaning

of true
Victory

MASTERPIECE

you tore the masterpiece
during the first
few brush-strokes

for its life thereafter,
the canvas would not heal

and some will say
that is how
it is with
perfection:
even
the sacred blue
cloth of sky
hung by nails