at the gates of waiting

  
 
   
   
old shoes  
   
old flame  
   
old habits    
   
old memories    
drained blood  
dry of life  
   
eggs stare up  
blindly from    
the plate  
   
faith isn't worth  
a jar of warm  
cat piss  
   
heavy mental is    
getting rusty  
since Lemmy    
died  
   
CHRIST!  
   
whatta fix we've    
gotten ourselves    
into  
   
God's hand squeezing    
the sun like an orange    
out of every last drop  
of hope and joy  
   
the four horsemen    
have thrown a shoe    
and send regrets    
for arriving late--  
   
not to worry though--  
   
we will be waiting    
   
choking on a prayer    
the size of a    
mustard    
seed  
   
(Great Mars; pound    
  heated rhythms    
  upon your battle    
  drum and sing  
  your red song)