church of the concrete and night lamps


 

never needed a steeple to abide with you. My altar rises through concrete in streets near and far, my eucharist transforms my heart under dim lights at the pub and bar. I can not name you-I dare not try, but you have been my constant, my incandescene in fogged night. I search you out in clouds, through the arbors, across sun-sprayed fields. looking for you in graffitti, reel, print, paint, there your smile ‘s revealed. I see you in the eyes of the drifter, the laugh of the toddler, and in the shreal of the the wheel-chaired angel. I crouch under an overpass to sing for Mark, or light up delore’s smoke, or eat with juanita. I felt you walk near me tonight in your city, Atlanta.

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