The world burns on my lips-
strange fire and I find
I speak in tongues
on street corners
to the amused and dejected.
The globe spins in my mouth,
stops in my throat
so it simply sits
and stews in my body,
the population
dwelling in my four walls.
The crowds are used car lots
and I am wearing western wear,
it is Texas and damn hot.
My mouth aflame
I spit on bushes
and they burn
with Christ-like dignity.
And the unholy
in ten gallon hats
fold to their knees
under patriotic pennants
and I screech from
a proverbial mountain
in a bird-language
directed in flames.
An all-consuming fire
as I stand with my back to
the crowd.
Burning, I become
their messiah.
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