again and again


there I go
again
and 
again
light rose and orange
stains the sky
and I just stand there
looking out the dirty window
on the top floor
again
and
again
I turn to face the saints
and hold the frame
the golden dots placed on corners
I remember reading
about hermit saints never keeping
their caves clean
again I blow dust off all my books.
dust behind the television
with my foot crunching webs

whistling saints, orange saints, yellow saints
satin saints, velvet saints, clock saints, rosary beads, 
mirror ropes, crosses, the twang of a banjo,
an alley way garden ripe with teenage angst
I pluck cucumbers, city boys,
only one heart for one too many 

my mother’s cellar song. 
get the coal, heat the water for your bath,
stay away from bad kids
pray before you go to bed.  don’t forget
the saints, for God’s sake, go to sleep.
hell if you keep that up I’ll come 
in there again and again you’ll 
get a thrashing

thou I pray everyday everyday I pray
for the time’ll come when I won’t hear
anything except dirt on hard pine. 
trying to clean my bloody hands

saint mary saint barbara saint teresa 
saint john saint katherine saint paul 
uncle harry mentally ill,
uncle chris ran a close second
uncle tony a bookie
cousin Frankie pops pills
father and so many more gamble
on dogs, numbers, and horses.
there were killers, stuey and stretch 
all blessing themselves
again and again slapping
their lucky card down

dark pinks plunge the sky into night
and I just stand there waiting 
for saints to come marching in