Because the Gates Were Open

I have married the cities
in which green glass flowers grow
and because the Gates were open,
I have gone where
demon smiling Angels
are Executed, toe to nose.

It is the frozen rose
that is still ripe when Winter weeps
and maintains its full pink rosary cheeks
and because I do not care for sidewalks,
I have rested beneath the stairwells
that lead to where the Holy Grail bleeds
and Idealists pause to read
Sideways.

I have marched up to the
Kings and Queens of Beggars
of Nowhere and Mishap
and have gotten drunk
on the sweet sap of
sleeping under starsong.

Dreams of Disappearance
cast a spell, cast a trance,
resist Medusa’s glance.
I have owned nothing
yet everywhere my feet have touched
I can call home –

Gods
I wish
this were
the truth.