The Call of Dogs
In heaven,
Gabriel’s trumpet
is a rasping electric guitar now.
It broadcasts power,
energy in waves,
the sweepings of death rattles
made beautiful.
It wails,
and whips at me
across infinity even now.
Siren to a jump
beyond my reach.
Cyanide’s bridge leads only
back to here.
JGJ
April 27, 1980
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