I’m tired of things only meaning one or two things.
I’m in love with orthogonality:
one becomes five becomes ten-thousand
becomes purple, becomes God.
I have reenlisted in the Poet Core
to serve on this, a top secret mission–
which, as poetry, means I tell
everyone who reads or hears this poem:
the secret of the Bent Christ Cross,
the 24th letter of the English language–orthogonal T–
Sacred, bent “t”–the letter X.
Love letter, Leadbelly, where were written your poems
In the pines? In the palm trees?
In Red-orange embers?
In pale-blue sky?
Somewhere between the Holy Trinity, the letter “X”
somewhere lost among shoreline palms
and midnight psalms, whispered, whispered and
if you listen very hard
the words will come to you at last:
this Declaration of my Beautiful and Bent