Day 37

dream dream of the great world’s drowning
even these monuments of bone

and erased names upon which
sand castles stand

the penitent man prays for gills knowing
there is no salvation except to dive deep

Day 38

speak then, sermonizing bird
speak of wings, a world

floating on clouds: currents upon currents
centuries filtered to an icy deep

I dream I am floating on a river of fire.
I know the boatman’s first true name.

Day 39

this cup of tea, a respite
Lord, my gills are tired

Day 40

cast these prayers out
on the driftwood and flotsam

what is faith on the floating world
just another abandoned Styrofoam cooler

we are encircled by a moat of crucifixions
waiting for christs to submit