Author Information
"Calling Home"
Cloud Nine
three quarters empty
I soared by
seeking answers in little smiles
I found false prophets
disguised in toothless grins
gumming their way to happiness
Is this the way to Heaven's Door?
Knock Knock!
I feel the heat
From Hell's Kitchen
burning my ass as I await
The Calling's answer.
Grave entrances
next door to each other
No paper tissues
to extract the sweat
that boils in bottom temperatures
from the cup that runneth over
in Standing Room Only
Below
Angels are a figment of imagination
White stains
Red runs wild,
dinner is always served best
when Hot
© Brian Glenn
