As a lay priest my guilt increased
as a dealer I dealt mostly in inside out
bits of advice heavily overpriced
between Salt Lake and Seattle.
With little direction and even less
I lived through the sixties in the eighties
hammering on and pulling off around Austin
between San Marcos and Waco.
Between poles respite swirls
untoward bells peal.
As an artist I found myself outstripped
working half way up the hillside
making a living off the top and bottom
between huddle and scrum.
So many meetings that couldn’t be arranged
zooming past any peaceable temptation
hibernating through all the times of change
rising between clock and alarm.
Between poles untoward
bells peal despite placidity.
As director I pushed all boundaries
at the Gran Teatro della Kahlo
I sang my preacher’s heart out
between arpeggio and heavy beat.
At end of year and edge of volcano
clouds came out of me I didn’t expect
they circled some unforeseen equator
and it rained between me and you.
Between poles tranquil blossoms
swirl concealing swelling will.