The Popularity Resurrection
Some believe that an angel
supports the whole world
and that, if he lets go, it will fall.
-Arnaldus de Villanova
I believe in riddles,
the slender angels
pervading neurons
like passive assassins.
This is not to say
I’m unmoved by miracles.
At times cauldrons will loosen
their shapes and form teacups.
I believe in carbon,
its influence on perception,
the fruits of validity
descending like abstinent manna.
The small truths
convince us of mortality,
transform babies
burning blue with doubt.
It has nothing to do with
Shakespeare or Nostradamus.
The only psychics are poets
drinking themselves to death.
I believe in the bottle,
the long necks of women.
These are the delicate riddles
falling like stars.
This is why a bruised angel
can’t believe his eyes.
It’s as though this Lazarus
had never risen from the grave.
Angel Zapata has had poems appear at Every Day Poets, Gloom Cupboard, The Short Story Library, and Boston Literary Magazine. Visit: arageofangel.blogspot.com/
wonderful poem, Angel - Bravo!
ReplyDeleteawesome piece here, well done!
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely beautiful words, Angel.
ReplyDeleteI loved the lines:
The only psychics are poets
drinking themselves to death.
Very nice piece - some very lovely gems in this :-) Bravo!
ReplyDeleteGorgeous prose, biting with the illusions of truth and teachings.
ReplyDelete