The Jesus Diary

I am the light you don’t have

just a hole in your tent

from which you can see my radiance

I am the can of soup

which multiplies for feeding five

pass it around and drink my blood.

I give to the least of these

homeless shelters

soup lines

scabbards for your paring knives

Caesar’s gold is hidden

where rust doth not corrupt.

They buried me in a pauper’s ditch

you will be blessed with a vinyl box

I never came back from the dirt

neither will you

sing halleluiah

sing to each other, I’m not listening.