Perception can force you to crawl
On God's great damn stone floor
& scrape your knees to the bone,
in love with the smooth round ass
of death. You've come to admire
that never-miss sniper on the rooftops.
The man who dances in circles
has fistbeaten a dog to the ground.
All the newsreel faces turn away
from the woman hanging naked
by her hair in a picture window,
as a scarecrow drags across a yellow field.
The young man with a nail in his foot
is your son who believes
he's Christ, telling his father
what he wants to hear,
using a thorn for toothpick