god gets nervous when we get too close to him
— rene leclerc. god and his ways
attention flutters, takes a walk. the narrative grinds on
boards so marched over aging thespians throw lines away.
cell phones buzz. messages zing round our heads.
red onions eavesdrop and gossip underground.
all’s so bland road-kill is news as a worm is cut in half by the gardener’s shovel
but still they repeat beautiful the dew, lovely the garden.
there’s blood in my ear now and i’m happy to spin a song of small sins,
of the deceit of love’s sticky ropes
from which sad young wannbe icarus tried to escape,
mounting the diving board over the empty swimming pool.
we’ve seen it a thousand times
and the motel isn’t responsible for unattended kids.
the other side’s worse chaos
where god’s a quarterback without a playbook.
a nihilist, solipsist, ironist,
aslant his tongue overflowing with love
for the eighth false prophetess … Click to continue . . .