Saturday, June 19, 2010

St. Romuald

he told me to empty myself

completely and sit waiting.

my coffee ripples

from the center outward.

he told me that I should desire

to be swallowed up,

to retreat into my own heart.

the angels circle my bed

with their wings that rustle

like sheets and they tell me

that I too am a saint.

I whisper back:

he is the greatest hallucination.

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