"A Revival Song"

The dead stampede the shore, turnabout, lament And hurl the fleetings of their spirit That they still claim and set them free.

“No more memories!” they cry yet…

By the rhythm in a wild midnight

Everything that distresses leads within. Desire distresses in many forms:

Straight, crooked, burnt, slouched, flaccid, doomedStraight has a carnal power most removed From mental strictures. People held in veils by love, The pure… do they have the nightmares

Of the crooked? They jar themselves

From their darkness.

“Jesus did not forget my name.” Each season Is a Winter, but not all shiver. Salvation cannot be rushed or be undone Or understood or counted on.

"The Conscript" and other poems by S.T. Brant