by DBLevin

I’ll never uncover Jeff’s musical mastery
getting my druthers through lyrical blasphemy
because he split the world into twenty-odd pieces
while I’m still hard at work, faking the reasons
why the world all around me seems an upside-down cliff
but he flipped it all over and fell
out of our drawn-and-quartered abyss
those smoldering entrails were nothing to him
gravity can’t hold you
when the world’s in your fist
and people can’t bind you
when lyrical providence
is on your side
and your eyes burn
and your tortured soul is ready
turning his torch to the sky
he said, “God is a place where some holy spectacle lies
And when we break, we’ll wait for our miracle
God is a place you will wait for the rest of your life”
and we thanked him
and we turned our eyes from the bright