Friday, February 13, 2009

God Plays Checkers on Her Chest

I can show you God. I have his photograph in my fingerprints. I can show you. But will you see Him?

The devil was explaining to me why he is essential. He was rambling. As he often does. Something about watermelons. Spitting out the seeds. The choke of the sweet. The throttle of lonelienss. As foreign skins collide. The charged ion. The rogue molecule. At the back of her cunt. Basting the seams in heaven.

It doesn't fit. It never will. So I'll just wear it how it is.

Broken zippers. Missing buttons. Thin fabric on shy skin. God is the needle. I am the rip. But where is the thread?

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Mortgaging Heaven

Do you want to go to heaven?

Here's an easy method. Lie to me. Tell me you are good. Even if you are not.

Do you want to live in God's kingdom when the Judgement comes?

I know how you may. For just a dollar I can sell you a seat on that empty bus.

For fifty cents you can live right next door to Him.

For a quarter you can piss on His lawn.

For a penny you can have your picture taken with a similar, life-size piece of cardboard.

Whatever you decide. Whichever piece of heaven you purchase.

Always keep in mind.

You get what you pay for.

Thursday, February 5, 2009


She sees God, but he doesn't see her. She looks in the mirror. To find his face. Unblinking ripples of granite.

She was painting his portait when see noticed there was no one in the chair. God, she asked, how can you see me if you're not there?

Eye are meaningless he laughed. Where is everyplace. When is always. Who is all.

You mortals with your frail time machines. Hoping there are gods in you yet.

You see me because I allow it. I see you in shell game. You do not want to be found. But I know where you are hiding.

But why God, do you let me see you?


You are not looking for me.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Why We Suffer

I have God on the soles of my feet. Jesus in the creases between my bent toes. Everywhere I step is some place they've already been.

This world is a massive machine. All the buttons are under their fingers.

Sometimes God appears in the frost on my fingers as I walk to buy things I can't afford to purchase. Or in the dirt of the gutter as I wait for the bus that is always late.

I say to Him why don't you help us. But he just shrugs and says he is. By allowing us the opportunity to save each other. It's up to us to take it.

Isn't that a cop out I dared to protest. He chuckled lightly and said. What good is the life I've given to each of you if it's not yours alone to live.


in the morning


comes at night