Sin is understood in the Christian tradition, as Augustine said centuries ago, to be “living a lie.”

School is rollin along nicely, here's a small update.


I can feel your sin(ew)
throbbing inside you.
Warm bloody traction,
pulling heart beats in-action.
Red cords will be drawn out,
retracted:
course, lines, routes (traced/erased/retraced).
It's motion while being still,
it's vibrations, it's palpitations.
Ink-fills, teeth hills,
Ink-well ripples.
See the lines, see how they flow!
They follow: the brush, the fingers,
mimicking the hollow()
valleys.



Trash cans of water
greet the arrival of the rains,
creeping just beyond the horizon,
swept off the celestial ocean.

My aqua body has pruned
while my sun-kissed face wrinkles.
My surroundings ripple.

I'm standing on end; I wait.
My knees have stiffened
in the mean time.

My hands cup, upwards, waiting for Varuna,
Clouds birth rain, drunk and pissed by Makara.
My feet press against the earth.

I look outward,
patient, penitent,
praying.

Watching the dark half of the sky
drops finally connect,
and my hands clutch each other.

Thank
god.