Sunday, November 27, 2011

By Mercy By Grace

From the black bitumen,
raise the phoenix fallen,
shine with your new moon on,
and smiling draw him,
wash him in your raining,
the scrabbling  Babylon king,
till he be clean.
manicure broken nails-become-claws,
wet with dew of morning,
Preen feathers of halographic poetry
send cyber skyward in sparkling
clouds of phrases
praises billowing
with your shekinah glory!

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