Three Years Gone

Three years ago I

lost my way in the dark of

July, murmuring in sweaty steel

along Industry Way


Why ask O why did she git me again

the devil sparking fire down candied breath

buzzing my branded noodle

and wasting my sacred hearth


Now daring the dead I’ve become a

fleck’s fleck, a rising bent and tortured arrow

begun in the flesh, converted in thought,

of consequence, and import, not pickled nor bought


Three years gone and with that the soma and shame

With no senses left to bark at, and few worlds in the rough

I saw that in the end only He remains

Pulling fools and the Holy Ones up by the scruff


About Pete Mladineo

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