midnight on a good friday

scottish bass, hand drums,
sitar like a cloud, east--west hybrid, strange beauty-
siren magdeline
mary melody.

vestments
and pope hats
and confirmation
from church to church-

i feel jesus, i see mosques, synagogues, rehabs,
i look at the river
i read the sermon on the mount
i watch politics
and machine guns
slung over
camoflauged backs, pass no judgement but listen to the violin.

the old irish priest
slugged me in the gut
cause i spilled the
holy wine
on good friday, alter boy ready to rock-1968

the house was packed
the PA was broken
the confessional
was empty

but the congregational faces
haunt me like
kids at a punk show

knockin into my mic stand
and chippin my tooth, and
i turned the other
cheek,

put my foot on
the monitor
and held
back the revenge-

ended up sitting on the
rickety stairs
outside
under the stars.

holy thursday
good friday,
lovely saturday-so they say-
think i will drive to the ocean,
see if the rock rolls back.