Questions Past The 7th Veil

Camel on the pack, stock still;/lucid again by nightfall,/being a matter of tranquility,/name of a sea on the moon,/arid shore beckons./Locomotive passes, describes itself in puffs;/this train needs gondolas, boxcars, madly./A fire axe shines brightly./I hope to rip in shreds/, these mesh veils , straight to the 7th./Diesel, big payload,/-Where are you?/you puff uphill,like these trains,/-Don’t snap your neck, in this vision before me, saintly,/ From the depths of haunted eyes,/but like a barroom TV,/-And hey Joanna, where are you?/-she tells me she’s at church,/to lay her soft curls on altars./Plaster statues of saints appear,/monstrous and beautiful,/-Why do you have to hallucinate?/-So I can find true faith,/just a kid in church;/-Do you feel sorry?/-I’m really sorry God,/for what I’ve done/God seems to understand.

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