...and the truth finally sinks in

 



the traffic lights in
Rancho Cucamonga  
are drunk off of  
their asses
 
Zeus laughs as swans  
trip and fall over the
vagaries of gnostism  
 
autumn's mouth fills  
and chokes with the
blood of winter
 
the earth spits us out
like seeds from a  
grape  
 
pissing around
 
pissing contest
 
pissing in the  
wind
 
faces stained with
delusion  
 
eyes full of  
fiction
 
the dead know  
more than
the living,
but not as much
as the cold, dark  
silence  
 
and there are
mountain tops
that know the
faces and names  
of all the stars  
that have ever
passed overhead  
 
while God looks
down and takes
a long thoughtful
drag on his
cigarette  
 
rubs his forehead  
with disdain,
turns and  
walks
away