fisherman prophet

sorry for the recurring theme, but I'm stuck at work, and I REALLY want to go fishing. :) This one probably needs a little more tweaking.

fisherman prophet

 

wade dream rivers with Ezekiel eyes:

all speculations devoured by carnivorous enlightenment

leaves a naked mortal soul awestricken and momentarily incorporeal. . .

in a cigarette smoke vortex, a great door opens;

prophecy crashes down like cliff-fallen semi truck.

 

you magnificent wheel!

turn and burn.

 

air shifts, razor mind-slides flicker

and orange bones spin in flaming frames

within clouds of static rolling themselves over and over

under a tired red sun.

 

acceleration of mechanical and biological fruits

regale the voices of angel-dogs howling

unchained glory cloaked in alien beauty,

godlike power and ancient fearlessness.

 

you magnificent wheel!

roar Hell’s bane down vanishing highways.

 

visions fade and die, earth settles

and a dumbfounded wristwatch gulps for oxygen.

the wheel has been measured by heart and number.

the fisherman prophet is left half-baptized;

neck-deep in a crystal cold stream

wondering what the revelation means,

guessing that he has been chosen in error.

 

you magnificent wheel!

raise this lost corpse from flotsam to wiseman.

let his blue collar psalms dance in the brilliant light

of fresh Revelation!

let him soar, not for his own glory,

but for the glory of One greater than himself.

Author's Note

Thanks to Mike Florio for helping me out.