I think that I will go

to the place
where I am the religion
the golden calf
melted and forged
from trinkets

sacrifices brought before me
of the firstborn thoughts
the fattened feelings
that have glutted
on shiny judgments
and prickly prejudices

in that place
I will write hymns of Solomon
who buried pride
to uncover wisdom
who second and third-thought
to bring peace

a place to worship at the feet
of will’s strength
and sing my hymns
four beats to a measure
with every fiber in this clay

so I might cleanse trinkets from my soul