April 1, 2025

 daffodil

rain is a brand of rapture
bees sluggish
wet fur groaning into daffodil guts

my throat my brother’s throat
shoot nazis in the trees pow! pow!

my brother was a monk I was a musician
now we gumption
through the trees our horse hooves
clop clopping our brains fucked
with news we wriggle
in this New American Church

put our heads
together tether the breath breathe in
breathe in breathe in
pick up a hymnal

put it down
smash our heads against the trees
they are horses too their strong
throats ache 

my brother and I are old
we fight nazis with sticks and words and fingers
pow pow! pow pow!
as we always have as we always have

in this new rapture bees shiver
hide in yellow palaces