Tag Archives: #god

The Answer

You wanted to ask God
A simple question

Looking at a white hospital ceiling
While your daughter is downstairs
Getting a snack

You could not have known it
At the time, that experience
Is the language of celestials

Looking at a white hospital ceiling
You will die this way
And it will hurt, but not very long

“Give me ten minutes,”
She presses your hand
You could not have known it
At the time

The panic begins as your
Heart fails and you remember
You wanted to ask God
A simple question

Did you think you could withstand
The heartbreak that comes
With learning everything?

You wanted to ask God
A simple question
Why force us to exist?

And Her answer came
In the form
Of your entire life

the again

again the sense that i have lived
these fragile birdbone moments before –
this paper theater of déjà vu
has been dreamed and re-dreamed
like a play in rehearsal after
opening night has come and passed
(yet the last performance feels like
opening night) again the sense that
i have walked these dreamed-up
sidewalks of akihabara which run
parallel to the flesh-and-bone sidewalks
of akihabara, so fragile, like a paper theater
that has been dreamed and re-dreamed
in the mind of some forgetful god
who keeps creating the universe
without destroying the last one
again the sense that i have lived
these fragile ghost-bone moments before –
this tissue paper theater of déjà vu
has been dreamed and re-dreamed
in the mind of some uncareful god
who doesn’t quite erase all the lines
before re-illustrating little moments

the rib-bone galaxy

when god was a teenager
rowing through her sea
of self-made hormones
she wrote in her lockable
diary: i must make a universe
some time. it might be beautiful
to participate in, but i should
like to travel it as a man
this time, a little angrier,
a little narrower than i am
now. then she clasped her
journal and waited for
time to loop back around
to when she gave birth to
herself, so she could alter
her pronouns and create
a world where the sperm
came before the egg

 

four paths

what i crave to say
pulls my gut down
like a goat-bladder
full of smooth river stones

(it could be that your
song requires you
build a new instrument
or sing in an old tongue)

“either conceivable way –
if nothing exists, no one
could comment on whether
that were true,” she said

what i hunger to hear
tears me exquarto
across the corners of terra
but i can’t find the poles

orison

remixing molecules
into solutions for
nonmelodic maladies

meditating on light
and rewriting programs
into hunter-gatherer modes

gathering code for ontos
and for logos and for gnosis
and for fun

hunting the living meat
of the river dweller
and giving back for thanks

my brain full of good fat
will burn like a little lamp
for all mammalkind

i share this pain with you,
and this pan with you,
and this matter, mater

to certainty