Comic Books

Some folks
butcher the bible
into palatable chunks
and cook it
so it is easy to chew
after a course
of antidepressants,
hot dogs, apple pie
and high fructose
corn syrup
infused colas,
oblivious
that their bottled
spring water
was shipped
from half way
around the world.

The late night
televangelist
with an amen-chorus
stews psalms
on an open hearth
with a shimmering
saguaro desert
behind a billboard
explaining
why you cannot
purchase
bathrobes
with food stamps.

All the time
neighbors
turn the other cheek
until they
one-eighty
their positions
on solstice boogymen,
volcanic minimalism
and the heroes
of under-the-covers
flashlight comic books.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Passage

Endless wealth
held out its hand to me
for me to take
as a bride.

I thought a million
apple blossoms
in spring orchards
a better match.

Paul doubted
my choice of mate
and chased
after endless wealth.

His feet betrayed him
a thousand times
when he stopped
to help strangers.

A 23andMe test discovered
a once recited Bible story
mutated into
a good Samaritan gene.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Tangled With Kelp

My sleep is a long line of unconnected sentences
mismatched to dream images,
pushed forth by an idle, small-case god
attempting to prevent teeth from grinding
some not-forgotten, full-color shame
that fattened itself on my sugary silence,
while maintaining righteous illusions
found in Sunday meetinghouse glasswork,
based on blurry wisdom
inside a bible recently arrived
from across the salty ocean’s incoming tide.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney