jesus the bibulous
begat jesus the proletarian
begat jesus the foolosopher
begat jesus the loopy galilean
begat jesus the stand-up chameleon
as if there were not enough problems
with jesus the sword-bearer astride a white steed
jesus the strung up simulacrum
or gentile jesus meek ‘n’ mild
not to mention jesus the selfless bastard
the son-of-god business
all that water wine
Saragun Springs 
Geraint
The wordplay is brilliant. No matter how loosey-Goosey it gets, it says much.
Leila
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Geraint
Each line of this poem seems to cover a century or more of mythical transformations in the life of one whom some have called (from the margins) “the stranger.” Joseph Campbell points out in The Hero with a Thousand Faces that indigenous tribes of the Americas already had their own forms of crucifixes when the Spanish Conquistadors arrived. The native peoples were not surprised to hear about the figure of Jesus Christ because they already believed in their own version of him under another name, and unlike the Conquistadors, they had no problem synthesizing someone else’s representation of such a figure with their own. They were able to see the similarities more clearly than could their judgmental European counterparts. The Europeans had bigger weapons, bigger ships, bigger troop numbers. The Native Americans had larger minds.
This poem seems to me to be about the building up and breaking down of mythology by culture as much as anything else. The supple, unique voice of this piece and its fluid lines are vast, far vaster than the telescoped views of mainstream culture. This poem brings a kind of liveliness to its topic that feels both revisionary and revitalizing. Jesus’ own personal project was not to start a new religion but to move the world from a place of vengeance to a mode of forgiveness. He always knew he couldn’t do it all. The rest is up to us. “An eye for an eye,” which was itself an attempt to restrain humanity (you weren’t supposed to murder someone if they took only your eye) became, “Turn the other cheek” became the teachings of Tolstoy and Martin Luther King Jr. which changed the world.
You have a perfect ear as a poet! Each line begins and ends exactly where it should with everything just right in the middle and the words sound like speech turned into sculpture. This poem also reminds me of the song “Into My Arms” by Nick Cave, not in a direct way but in an artful connection mode.
Dale
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