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Tim Peeler |
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I'll Take Hell If it means quibbling over the cost of church bulletins, temple talks on stewardship, meaningless meetings and ritual prayers, I'll take hell. If it means these twisted myths, this hardcore brainwash, these worthless symbols as protection from fear then I'll take hell. I'll take the wrecking ball to every church wall. I'll worship the ruins and spin a new tale; then I'll take hell. Albuquerque three times Out past the liquor store on Fourth, Bob's Burger Shack where a woman with the most expressive face asks green or red chili? while I stare at the poster picture of a red Corvette because she is too lovely to look at. It is mid-afternoon; the winter sun bakes the mesa where we walk a path among black volcanic hills, man-prowled centuries of pictures rendered in soft stone: swirling lines, animal faces on men, snakes striking thousand year poses. Friday, when the streets close around the bar blocks on Route 66, the hills empty into the city, chunky cavalry cops talking in Spanish as they pass the Library Bar and Grill, even the moon rides low, licking the darkness from an alley. [Index] |
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Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
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