Roy Herndon Smith
The priest proclaimed, in stentorian voice,
in the inner sanctum of the temple,
“You pure and holy men of faith,
prepare the bread for the King’s banquet.
Do not allow a touch of leaven,
that pus of death, to corrupt it.
And when it’s ready, don’t let a crumb of it
fall into the jaws
of the filthy faithless dogs.”
Roy Herndon Smith
I have become void,
holding you, you Old Bastard,
Forsaking Father.
Love begins with loss,
with scouring silent cries,
emptiness of forms.
Roy Herndon Smith
He was a smart boy,
but sometimes he asked foolish
questions I answered.
Roy Herndon Smith
When Jesus turned six,
we were back in Nazareth
after the terrors
Roy Herndon Smith
I was almost due
when the Emperor decreed
the registration
Roy Herndon Smith
He covered me. He blotted out the light.
An angel, God, or man, I do not know.
He entered me. He cleaved me in the night.
Roy Herndon Smith
The angel left, and
I heard, like a wind, a voice
roaring in the night:
