Dear Diary
Today I mashed a few prayers with my rosary thumb,
and counted the shards of crystallized blood
from the broken crucifix. I picked some roses for the thorns.
I whaled the cleft with my moses stick altogether
like a dancing bear mauls grace, to see water spring
from the rock, to taste the water into wine,
to hear the stone recite the hierolithic gospel.
A spear of vinegar split my tongue.
I’m becoming a pump junkie and Love seeps light
from her crisscross of scars like organ pipes
leaking notes of quicksilver. I pursue the white mermaid
sailing on her iceberg of morphine, seeking
a winter of content in the horse latitudes.
St. Elmo’s Fire climbs my harpoon. Call me Ahab.
