Faith CLXIV, by Tim Peeler

Tim Peeler
FAITH CLXIV

Like most children of his generation,
He’s trying to figure out his father
Long after his death,
Driving past his grave
On a freezer burned automatic morning
When the slate gray sky is the kind of poem
That annihilates an already tired audience,
Tanked on caffeine,
Suffering the ambiguity of the age,
And he knows in his casual contemplation
That he is a lesser being,
Faithless as the metal filings
Scattered by the magnet, memory.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Faith CLXIV, by Tim Peeler

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s