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The Last Good Day of a Long-Dead Year
by Michael Channing
i take off my mask and fold it
put it in my pocket there is
not much left to smile about
not much left to chase
but in this dying autumn light
the last good day of a long-dead year
i want the sun to fall full on my face
so i can laugh at god
the rusty hateful bastard
i will laugh at the last
joke he'll ever get over on me
i put on my mask and swallow
hoping that this time tomorrow
we'll be just as safe
we'll be just as sane
amid so much loss and so much ruin
one more prayer won’t do much good
and heaven’s long been locked in quarantine
so we laugh at god
the spiteful drunken bastard
we all laugh in his face
though left alone we’ve faith in our own strength
That Empty Feeling Inside
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My Five Favorite
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Rag Quilt
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So Far So Long
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The Bag
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Meditation
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Grandma
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