Poems from Spirit under construction

 
 

The Gospel according to Batman

In the Batcave I was born again

over and over twice a week—

 

the colored lights and constant hum,

the music of cold, dark stone,

 

it was a catacomb of fighting all the wrong.

 

With a bath towel safety-pinned around my neck,

I ran into the world that was the world

I could become in all those dreams,

 

the activation that the stone

revealed, the BIFF! the ZAM! the POW!

 

At night I looked up, learning the stars.

Bruce Wayne knew their many names.

 

Blessed are those deadpan lines….

 

“Of what use is a dream if not a blueprint for courageous action.”

 

“Some days you just can’t get rid of a bomb.”

 

Don’t hide your lights, the hum.

 

They were an OOF-KAPOWIE pair

running deep in that device

that was the world clutching the roots that clenched.

 

 

  • Originally published in Boulevard.