Anselm Berrigan
Killer wig out
Looking into your passing windowbetter goods than the back end rips by
demonic architecture
pompous satellite dish
creepy sign painters
notes from papal poverty
blood rich anti-war diction
looking forward to serving
the same brick house
the same scripted humor
the same earnest ignorance
unformed uniform sacks of skin
may you sing with me
reaching for water to sell
conflicting fictions to elect
the reformed emptiness
of public prayer ordered
to make mistakes, ears pop
with communication so direct
we hand them back detached
spaceships they don’t understand
the moral beacon
in this 19th century
irradiated minute slack reality
a delayed thruway
to serve and praise
to command no greater
sum of trash
I can be every firm stand we admire
but this signal in my head
detests that predictable empty love
this sip honors the future dead
this sip fills the room
with details of our various
triumphs. Could I know
a belief in spirit’s institution
beyond possession?
Don’t debate how
to lay me down
just ensure I do
in your song
since you’ve been bound
being the trauma that is
lovely casual wear
furious banal
I can’t stand the morning
like to wake up the day
being partially gone
step in
stumble
stride, stress your tick
name it and be living
at my pace
as the day holds shape.
I like the word recede
I do what I can to resist sleep
let the little cracks
make their way into
these ordinary confines
reckless faith deserves
to make the change constant
to speak through my choices
bits by bits
but know you
I can’t be being here too
much as I like the little affections
and psychotic rates of exchange