Mark Heinsoo The Saved Man The saved man is blind. He doesn’t think. He absorbs consecrated wine through his pores across the pews. The saved man doesn’t drink but he is drunk. Blind and powerful hungry for the lord. His flesh opens, it turns red. It runs across the floor and up the altar – up the cross. He reaches for the sky with his blood his flesh his teeth and foul brown stench that lies within. Everything yearns. Everyone reaches. All is lost. But the saved man... the saved man flies– blind above the world.