the love they could not hang on the cross by J. Fisher
in this false prayer
i was idiot prophet
making sore callous
of begging knee
and bending elbow
– full cripple prostrate peddlar.
She fell out
caught her on the decent
and i sucked upon her soul
until she sang like my Magdelaine.
i was saved from my fate
and she was destined to go
here, now alone, i weep
like a fucking fool
for the soft portal
that oiled the nails
and caught me
In the exit slump
pierced, and wanting
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June 18, 2011 at 8:24 pm
Born in Edson, Alberta, Fisher currently lives and works in Victoria’s downtown core. His first short story “for what it’s worth” was published when he was 19. He spent his early 20s as a wildly unsuccessful blues singer and lyricist. His love of the word propelled him thru his failings until, in 2004, he managed to bring together the pieces which would make up his first collection, Death Day Erection. His poems continue to appear in e-zines, reviews and publications all over North America and Europe.
June 19, 2011 at 8:14 am
i felt this piece… well done and good selection Scot!
June 19, 2011 at 1:26 pm
interesting verse. thanks for this post. best, winnie