Hell-On

God is not a contract or a guy
God is an unspecified tide
You cannot time its tables
It sets no glass or gables
God is a lusty tire fire
Its bristles scrape and strike the stage
A rock-paper-scissors rage
Have mercy on the natural world
My voice is not the liquid waves
The perfect rings 'round a heron’s legs
My voice a straight garroting wire
A stolen mile of fingerprints
Peeled up quiet from their dunes
Captured and re-spooled as ruin
To be used at a different time
My voice is a fracture
Of a shinbone’s lust
Pounding barefoot ground
It lifts you up and sits you just
Just at sorrow’s waterline
I drape you on tomorrow’s plate
Ferrous, metal marrow spilling
Not yours but mine
I’m an agent of the natural world
Don’t you tell me I didn’t warn you
That that’s some gravity you ought not to play with
Don’t you tell me I didn’t warn you
That that’s some gravity you ought not to play with
Nothing quite so poison as a promise
Nothing quite so poison as a promise
Nothing quite so poison as a promise
Nothing quite so poison as a promise
And me, I am not a mess
I am a wilderness, yes
The undiscovered continent for you to undress
But you’ll not be my master
You’re barely my guest
You don’t have permission to take any pictures
Be careful of the natural world
Nature can’t amend its ways
Boils hell-on and then replays
Despite heartfelt springtimes of regret
The storm, she still cries for days
Have mercy on the natural world