Short Confessors Poems

Four dead Jesuits,
now confirmed as child
molesters, but when alive
these monsters’ crimes,
were covered in
obfuscation.

And when they passed,
were the Last Rites recited
and are they buried
in sanctified grounds?

May their rest be as
unrestful as their
victims lives and
and the fitful sleep
of their confessors....

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I was born in Jerusalem
But I was not Jewish
My hair made of gold
I was given silver teeth
And a ticket to the mid-rush
The gamblers and confessors
Pleads of needs for grace
And as dismayed as I was in the kicked dust
My greivance bade me well 
In even darker corridors
Where the good remove borders 
Through hagglers and horders...

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