Parables from Youth Pastor Manson:
Of Concordian Grapes,
“Concordia”, he said
"I do concur"
"Who has done this to you?
The child who was once there?"
We’re left with only the potions
“Our pasture, our problem”
He said, holding my hand
In rosary beads
Rosy cheeks, I spring up
Under weeping willows
And acquiescent glades
“A spiritual bath is an awakening”
I mix my vodka with pomegranate
Drink to our Father,
It’s what we do weekends
In search for something else
To Mother Mary,
A dozen cranberries scrawled
In flesh and tombstone
May we rest forever
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