There is a way out I can’t see, most can’t see,
rising from the bottoms of the sands’ lowest points, its roots and brambles, dripping leaves, my mother said
The economy said no child left behind so I climbed a tree and dug for sand a terrorist in the sand the balance
—the difference between the two is that I only forgive
which are natural resources:
the ghost stands
beauty at her side
pouring behind your curtains
your father is now a tranny, your father as a man in his portrait hangs over the fire place, your father with an apple in his mouth, your father in lipstick, your father the roasted pig
there is a way out from Hell:
everything that makes sense So here is a fact: every president has been either a Democrat or a Republican as far as I am concerned There really are not, my mother said, any shades of gray gray is Abu Ghraib white hot & fascist
power is a never-ending spiral unraveling Lucifer’s magick buzzing & Satanic concrete bunker
To a coward God asks
Where are you?
Adam was not wrong in his shame.
— Hayden Church is the author of A Question of Refinement, a book of poems. His work appears in Azure Bell, The Florida English Journal, Encyclopedia.Zone, and an untitled book forthcoming. He has a website.