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L.A. POETRY
No God at Sundown
A voice of abandonment
there is no god at sundown
no savior who’s gonna
fix the holes in my boots
and cook me something to eat
no voice of reason
that echoes in the
the chilly nights
under a bridge full of litter
gutters of coughed-up sorrows
there is no veritable god
that delivers me from bondage
that welcomes a hungry straggler
heals the body’s burns and bruises
and rescues the weak and lost
from the blustery winds of fire
there will be no warm greeting
no heavenly hospitality
once I leave this planet
but more of the same
broken store windows
abandoned buildings
cowboys with busted spirits
and mangy dogs laboring from the heat
it doesn’t matter if I lose my faith
or how life’s aches and pains
try to take away my hope
I’m used to the dark
with no gods to intervene
— the…
