My Beautiful, Bent Weird Revolution

My Beautiful, Bent Weird Revolution

I’m tired of things only meaning one or two things.

I’m in love with orthogonality: one becomes five becomes

Ten-thousand becomes purple, becomes God.

I have reenlisted in the Poet Core to serve on this, a

Top secret mission—which, as poetry, means I tell

Everyone who reads or hears this poem: the secret of the

Bent Christ Cross, the 24th letter of the English language—

Orthogonal T—Sacred, bent “t”—the letter X.

Love letter, Leadbelly; where were written your poems last night?

In the pines? In the palm trees? In Red-orange embers?

In pale-blue sky?

Somewhere ‘twixt the Holy Trinity, the letter “X” and Hiroshima—

Somewhere lost among shoreline palms and midnight psalms, whispered, Whispered and if you listen very hard the words will come to you at last:

This Declaration of my beautiful and Bent

Weird Revolution.