inversions of faith by Rob Budde

for P.G.


a high pressure press
the poetry of socked in and breathing hard

sunk, dumped on, and developing
symptoms, the air an irony;
worker’s compensation sucked back

a microbrew fermenting, sweet
resistance in merely looking around

parts of speech a fine
particulate i assume daily, take it
on faith, wondering too
if eskers are real

the language of servitude is an aggressive one
piled up against the spare in the back

being used is a foregone
illusion, fiscal pride spray
painted in orange on the back of each load out

wooden blood, the arteries a single lane
bypass and seasonal pacemaker—seizing

but this is
about faith, about inhaling
and admitting it—
being here, looking up at the press of sky and
staying


Dec/2004