
Fire and brimstone
A text in every texture
but texts for nothing
the sinews of my soul
laid boldly here in the lattice
formed by my many deeds
and misdeeds
strokes that have
gone astray
paths that led
into dark ground
where bearings
were soon lost
I see too the flickering flames
of reds and yellows and orange
with streaks of black
that burn in self-recrimination
a mind charred
in the failing honesty
of its art and upon it all
the criss-cross
of patterned purity
with which I still hope
to redeem myself
in my time
in my place
in my life
John Lyons