Sext and Vespers
Ancient gods who have fallen from favor
Drink lunch at the Buckhorn
High noon apparitions from smoldering sagebrush
From stone sanctuary and bleachedbone Valhalla
Cloak themselves in go-to-town robes
And obscene heretical hats
Rank ordered along the bar
Watching doppelgangers in the mirror
They rehearse their old stunts and
Await the first offering.
Back in the Day they fought over
Who would give the sun
His morning hardon
And should rivers flow
Uphill or down
And how long should a woman
Be pregnant and could she Like a mantis
Eat her husband's head.
Resolving these puzzles was thirsty work
And while they drank
Youngstud newgods with binary haircuts
Rode hip hop limos into town
Hungry for souls
WTF OMG
They work at night, these rockstars
Afternoons are for ceremony
With old friends whose names
Are carved in their Viejo belts
So we remember who they are
Hoisting one to the perfect number
Of seasons
Toasting the flavor of blood sacrifice
Drinking to the pure life. -Rod Miller