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.