“The poet is a pariah, an anomaly.”
~ Henry Miller

Saint Pariah

Sings

“This is the time

For me and you”

He’s seen

Crumbled names

Of old

Grow green

Amid

Oceans of

Blood

Carried

Onto land

In vessels of

Evolution

Destined to

Crowd

Rhythm’s

Ancient shore

Where

Temporary

Eyes

Drown

Saint Pariah

Kneeling

Down

To touch

A tombstone

He cares about

Because he cares

About the about

And the when

And the why

He will be

Categorized

When he dies

Wishing

All would stop

Dying

Without meaning

Or purpose

These words could

Go on forever

If forever

Didn’t wear down

Indecipherable

Beneath

The great

Divide