Sonnet: I Am Jesus, Who Are You?
by John Kendall Hawkins
Eye brows bats out of hell, their eyes
black suck holes, vampires of light on two legs,
their poets speak i-ain't pentameter --
little paeans to peons who may teeter
at horizon's edge and then powder kegs!
of being exploding, a yummy sunrise
dissolving on the tongue of darkness
like a Jesus Fool savior candy wafer,
like Bobby's hard boiled eggs in Angel Heart.
(Nobody can eat 50 eggs.) You start
at this transubstantiation caper,
give new thought to your digestive process.
If the angels could only see us now;
if they could only hear humankine low.