Sirens wail in warning from
lethal speeding 
freeway/come crashing
through
my open window.

Tense fusion of the city:
Bombastic.
Glaring.
Crowded.
Hushed/Ominous.

Somewhere, 
a body strapped to gur…

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Those who rise each day astonished,
unable to contain the wonder,
often end up in places where pills
are doled out in intervals to induce slumber.
Others prefer to roam.

Those deemed crazy may sim…

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Look at ole Babylon now
sobbing stars
once sacred cows 
encased in files
shoved in secret
through a shredder.

However!
Let the digital record
stand forever,
looming large like  
gutting threats to 
so-called power—
Men of Achilles heel,
Babylon sisters,
chunking Pop Rocks into
Mr. Volcano's broiling lava 
head.

Such puppets wage war to please their 
masters,
though it spells beyond disaster
for millions of blameless
lives.
Women and children and fathers
set ablaze atop pyres
of mangled metal,
stone,
rubble.
The fuming, burned out landscapes
of hell.

These distractions hurl our rulers
faster toward the place
of unfathomable terror.
Unearthly, 
but far more real
than their worst nightmare’s
nightmare.

From towering piles of paper 
plied with redactions
naming countless victims
of unspeakable acts,
in the end as now
the one who sees
already knows the facts.

Knees, 
on their knees they’ll fall
one way or another.
The fates don’t bargain
in any case
with the twisted hubris
of the human race,
a race the filthy rich
believe(d) they are/were winning 
over
by their bloated 
skimming, scheming, 
turned horrified screaming
of innocence—
the abducted,
the taken,
the indentured pure
whose tortured silence
and muted deaths now rise
into unceasing roar.

Enter Justice,
busting down entitled
doors,
torches blazing comes
a sword that separates
the goats from sheep.

Look at ole Babylon now
with no cards left to play.
And here we are—
fast approaching
disclosure day.

Mark 8:36 written by Papillon-Finch
©2026

Wake up,
exhale summer,
the night fevers,
incessant internal
commentary
defense and prosecution,
blistering heat,
war of the hour,
doomsday clock
ninety seconds to midnight,
Christmas of childhoods,
getting sober,
true awakening,
anguish of body,
no mistakes
by God,
decades of bone-breaking
labor
and beautiful people
some more wounded than 
others
shell-shocked
by the age,
millions of rosaries 
whispered into the
awaiting air,
grace,
stultifying inertia,
redemption,
waving goodbye,
the broken hearted 
steeped in despair
who manage a smile 
as I go passing.
Breathe in faintly,
exhale
the light
the light
the light
is dawning.

Exhale written by Papillon-Finch
©2026

Sometimes,
it all comes so close.
As if too near.
The beloved faces.
Life’s aggregate loss.
A welling up of favor’s
palpable presence
so as not to simply feel
gratitude, 
but become borne by it—
blin…

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Nope.
Dun-
no
cero.
Zero.
(0)

That’s all I got
about
ro(www.zilch)
man
tic
luv.

———————————— written by Papillon-Finch

©2026

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In
v
is
i
b
l
e

form,
you keep appointments
shake hands
exchange voluminous, mute
glances
make it to work 
on time
stare empty out of 
windows
out of lack
for whatever taps 
you
on the shoulder
out …

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You seek a God who works for you
(Let’s go one better)
When what you need is a God you can work for.
This God will show up,
no question.
Just ask.
Ask child,
And peace be with you.


Lin, sharing wri…

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why is there a statue of a Greek goddess
in this restaurant making the F— You sign,
one arm lying against her chest,
middle finger covering the nipple?

why is there a man vomiting
across the street,…

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Blank black moments in succession
like the first frames of a film
after you push play.

The songbirds carry on.
No alarms ring through the neighborhood.
Ants do not slow their labor;
they shift cours…

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In the stirring
swirling
spiral
of
impetus,
we in structure
and
authenticity
come to inhabit
consciousness.

Sentient.
Adhering.
Gravitating towards
the corporeal horn.
Trumpet
cornucopias of
mass
m…

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Sun,
I’ll bet you never saw it coming—
the moon—
on that first day 
of your great rise.
Sun.
Heaven’s exemplar.
Earth’s power.
Source of all that took root
unfurling its purpose
under an awakening sk…

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From the sea came a hand,
ignorant as a penny,
troubled with the salt of its mother,
mute with the silence of the fishes,
quick with the altars of the tides,
and God reached out of His mouth
and call…

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in the flowers,

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Managing the crush of love.

Acknowledging the unequivocal,

apodictic presence of God/G-d

the Alpha and Omega,

the Word.

And yet there are days—

as someone I once knew used to say—

I s…

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The hum just beneath silence.
What if it’s an uncountable chorus
creating music billions of years ago
we still don’t possess 
the ears to hear.
We think Mozart was somethin’ else.
Beethoven.
Aretha.
…

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How is it when I look back
at the years 
the miles
at memory’s heft,
divine agency,
I feel as if I’m moving 
forward faster than ever 
before.
Life’s velocity—
crucial for calculating acceleration.
P…

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This anguished spine.
Not unlike the petrified,
coral-encrusted spokes 
of an Egyptian chariot wheel 
left to the drift of tides’ oblivion,
resting at the bottom 
of the Red Sea,
lodged in sands of …

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Think heart
lungs
gut
capillaries & all
constellations
comprising each 
our current form
(body, mind, spirit, and on and on)
as an orange.

Some of us are on fire
for you to taste the sweetness,
to c…

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All the breathing seas in us
The clanging of bells
The striking of keys
Our anemic industry
And the lies
And the lies
And the lies
Streaming
Filling our feeds
Broadcasting
Helix of masquerades
The si…

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