Who Trots the Mulberry Bush?
Yahweh will speak—my spirit cries within.
And I will hear—my faith hopes from lack of knowing.
How will he speak—my heaviness queries at last.
Speak with his tongue or speak with his fist—alas.
Enough with your ears and your word-filled eyes—says he.
Feel my patience—feel my anger—hear me palpably.
My words spoke of earthquake—and blood—and water.
My fist will say darkness and light—blood and redemption.
All around—yes—as it goes—the mulberry bush
Monkey kings chase weasel kings as the wizards keep pace—
Most thinking it fun—until “pop”
Goes the haymaker—daymaker—doorbuster—
Juggernaut bursting its belly—
Monkeys and weasels knocking their knees.
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