a burden in the sight of near places
filthy angelic touch soon to you reveals
much less of where you wanted to go
and more of where you have been.
crooked church doors hung on
sleezy wayside motels.
reconcilation of gravel and cigerette
ashes strewn along the roadside.
dashes of yellow collide in the median.
some witnessed it the walking of the neon
apostolic ghost in the early morning.
bleeding burnt yellow and chain smoking.
straight and narrow is the way.
crash goes the hardbound hymnal, heavy is the
stearing wheel turned slightly to the right.