“She would of been a good woman,”
The Misfit said,
“If it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”
And so too do I
So need his wonderful ministry.
Those violent slugs to the chest
Boring clean through smugness,
Making holes to ooze out self pity,
To tear light into the darkness.
He should start a radio show.
Come into my home.
Not be so hard to find.
So that it would not just be
Down lonely, indulgent roads
That I meet by
ACCIDENT
His ministry of violence.
His violent mercy.