By Jake Kieran
We are without, within, about and stretched thin,
Determined not, yet predestined, glad, to make a fuss
Hold a candle before as we march beyond the wall of dusk.
In wisdom, through stupor, God see us begin.
Time's told only by the rings about the rims
Of glasses that cover minds in dust
And make tongues forged as by smiths, warped as by rust.
Dear God! I beg your too-often abused pardon for him.
And as I lie sprawled on sheets tonight,
Rolling to let ghostly sketches drawn in violet
Pass in a fast-fading echo of a club, forgive this stylate
Young man his sins. God, see me as she did beneath stark dance floor light.
This prayer I offer now so I've repented
As by dawn I'll have forgotten what needed mended.