Poetry — August 18, 2011 17:07 — 0 Comments

INTERVIEW WITH PONTIUS PILATE – David James

How could anyone have known he was the real deal?
He didn’t look the part—no crown, no jewels, no gold,
no army of warriors.  He was this sad-looking guy

in dirty robes, unwashed hair, some wag with an eye
for seeing through the bullshit.  He sold
himself down the river.  The future will reveal
I did nothing wrong.  I washed my hands and let
the crowd decide—that’s democracy.
He looked harmless, but I was willing to throw a bone
to the people.  The Jews believe the body is on loan
in this world anyway.  The soul, I think, is the key.
But I’m fine now—life’s good. Seriously, I have no regrets.

Bio:

David James' most recent book, SHE DANCES LIKE MUSSOLINI, won the 2010 Next Generation Indie book award in poetry. His one-act plays have been produced from New York to California. James teaches writing at Oakland Community College in Michigan.

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney