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Broken TV Revelations
Broken TV Revelations
Alone, countless ancient uncles
linger in confessional apartments—
stare into virgin wombs
of empty TV screens, reciting
lines from old John Wayne movies.
They know the words
like pearls cast -- sip communion coffee,
swallow mute manna of Wheaties
as they trowel moist smoothness
of remotes
in spattered stone mason hands,
plumb-lining life’s purpose.
The gods
will make it right—
resurrect the Duke
to his virile glory.
For now, sermons suffice—
mind’s pictures chiseled
into resurrected cocoons,
screeding heavenly images
like fleshy mortar
as they wait the mason
and slowly savor
the lost teachings
of big John’s
benevolent fist.
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