Messenger of God

             Creator and

disposer of wild-woven webestries,

weakening wonderment

through casualties

of ignorant fantasy and

 living hermetic epiphany:

silence these feathered prophecies.

Give us meat.

Give us a heart we can bite into

 and a pulse to chew.

Because “fuck glory,” you say.

 “and eat your leftovers.”

Dirty royalty, dirty bliss

street-regal love so proven

every step, note and beat

 very nearly unsoilable, and if

 I’d just see it always;

even trash only ornaments

this face.

Brothers, both

before me

followed my ratchet ass down

the street

to indulge me

and score some midnight coffee.

I see them

The trying slips away

Visible innocence buoys the heads,

 melts KING and JESTER alike

as patience

I ask them

How do geniuses dream?

Messenger of God

    opens his mouth

and drools.