I subscribe to speculative worship
Radiant light mantras, pagan repertoires
Or bull leaping my path to redemption.
All religions are my theocracy of
Officiated metaphor,
The mirror's lunge at its reflection,
The ballot's toss for tithe or tax.

For as a child enamored with balance,
Hypnotized by a seesaw's ruthless resettings,
Rapt to a wave's trough and row,
(And row and trough) All went behind
The ear-marked faith of an Augur-eyed

Teenager grown fearless of beatings,
Now a man bent on circling these
Circular myths, even-keeled by the extreme
Heart murmur and prostate pain.

For time has offered up some new math,
A slang in lieu of blood and beasts,
The collective spasm of generational physics,
And torque to whirl this makeweight
As I fill out the room.