Sweeper Of The Souls

Sweeper Of The Souls
© Surazeus
2024 07 28

With backpack of notebooks and mushroom wine 
I lounge on lonely cemetery lawn 
to translate songs bones in graves never make 
about the shipwreck of their curious hearts, 
describing how we swim in sea of dreams 
till we fall out of our skins into death. 

Though my soul is stuck inside my bones, 
encased in sticky clay of molecules 
that sprout from minerals of volcanic soil 
when faceless gods in clouds weep tears of rain, 
I listen for the bell that never rings 
to sail river boat of my coffin home. 

Women with wind-blown hair in long white gowns 
mold powder, eggs, and milk into sweet dough 
they bake in loaves of bread that angels eat 
when they descend from Heaven of the mind 
to carry souls of the dead to their stars 
where light recharges batteries of brains. 

Death watches me from shadow of the woods 
with face green as the grass on silent hills 
so I drink dew dripping from leaves of trees 
to savor pleasure of its bitter taste 
at memory of cold winter winds that stab 
soul of my bones with anguish of desire. 

Red sparrows fly from laughter of my mouth 
to find bowl of the sun in mountain cave 
where I forge sword of wisdom from the stone 
that fell from Heaven in white blaze of fire 
so I can prove my vision of the world 
describes what is real better than theirs. 

Born from marvelous body of the moon, 
I walk the wavering road of everywhere 
to show the blind river where it should flow 
when I leap to the bottom of the Earth 
on swan wings I weave from bones of the sad 
who advise me fame is best for the dead. 

Death appoints me sweeper of the souls 
so I sweep rotting bodies of the dead 
into the deep heart of the spinning globe 
where corpses nourish roots of apple trees 
till molecules of our bodies transform 
into fruit our children eat in the rain. 

I run through drizzle of the mountain fog 
to win the brutal race for president 
when I wrestle cruel demon of despair 
and hurl him howling from the mountain peak,  
but wake on lonely cemetery lawn 
with notebooks full of spells written in blood.