On the 35th Anniversary of His Death


Jesus in a jumpsuit, jokey,
bloated and tired.
His voice deepened with disappointments,
fucking about with parables,
jumbling the blesséds,
drunk on an excess of Messiahness-
this blazing star
who journeyed from hicksville Bedlam
to Vegas Jerusalem
punching out to a drumstruck kata
He-that-is-without-sin-cast-the-first-stone.

Let us bear witness
to this fire born of the Sun
larded with kitsch and peanut-butter,
doused in the slow self-crucifixion
of a god descending to human.
Let us celebrate, this day,
the emergence of Him from the radio-waves.

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