National Poetry Month: “Bob Dylan has a Vision of Jesus Christ”

Its hot in the desert.

The air conditioner is pumping in

microscopic sand particles.

I’ve got the blackout curtains drawn

but the light creeps in through the gaps anyway.

I’ve drunk 2/3rds of a bottle

I’m sweating Jack Daniels

and the walls are moving in inch by inch.

I don’t remember who I am anymore.

The years have brought me from

hobo mystic to ambiguous rock star.

I am a shit show.

The motes are dancing in the turbulence

they’re beginning to coalesce.

I think I see the vague outlines of a man…

or maybe it was a cold November night.

The windows building frost with cigarette smoke

as a foundation.

I’ve just turned down the corners of the bed

when I see the reflection of a man in the mirror

behind me…

or was I in San Diego, the Holiday Inn by

the airport, the loud 737s roaring down from

God knows where?

I was watching Johnny Carson

on the TV, the antenna picking up static

instead of picture. I heard something in the bathroom.

I got up to look and I saw a silhouette out of the

edge of my peripheral vision. Yes.

That’s when I saw Him.

or maybe it was…

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