Treading water

He exists
on a lost island
A beardless
clueless hermit
stewing away
in a hippy
cauldron

on this inhabited
adrift island
He is their guru
The king rat
The ark sinker

Deep
Inside the kings
Grotto
Red wine flows
Through urinal
Tracks
Pot luck
Last suppers
Are Crushed
By false teeth
Karaoke
Poetry
Its Life read
Slowly
Then
Methodically
Crucified

i do not attend
i walk on puddles
past the cave
past the stalking
hearse
up on ice bricks
motor running
for a quick
breakdown

i am not
neighborly
i meditate
at my bus shelter
as the funeral
possession
passes over

his apostles
implore me
to perform
one final
exorcism
one final
roll
of the rune stone
To release
Their redeemer
before i return
to the mainland
but the tide
tis on the turn
this netting
sunset

i cannot walk
on sand grains

miracles
cannot wait
an encore

©bg 2015

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