web novels, poetry, prose.
i met god on the beach
today
about three years old,
she crawled determinedly and dirty before me
and, as the waves,
snuck up along the coast.
she large-eyed the ocean
then big-eyed me
and said,
nothing.
sandy she laughed, and clapped
and i too after a while.
and i too after a while realized
it was the first time i’d
done that in an old three whiles.
my god! i am as old as my god
of the wonder still and dirty hurrahs.
hahahahahahahahaha
today we’re all-so young.
you’ll forever be judged by the doors through which you’ve entered this hell
rejoice rejoice you’re fucked! rejoice as the doors close. step forward
i remember telling you the world was round
i remember your eyes
and you
you telling me “daddy, no
no, it’s whole— we’re the heartache”
and i held you close
and i held you close
my shrine! my shrine!
the kids know, in summer
there’s no such thing as monday
only eternity
tomorrow never comes
until it’s too late
after attaining enlightenment
i find it so completely
so severely utterly boring
and so i’ve decided
to hate myself
for the most minute flaws
to waste at filling
in with things
is not so boring
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
cannot bear very much reality. // T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets
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“there are bones in here”
what cunningness
making me mistake curated candidness
longevity
and a thing with bones
for something there
you’re not
but a glorified boneyard
speaking of all battles lost
telling a sad true tale
with a childlike gap-toothed smile as face
and my earning in pocket
i take it back
you’re a glorified candy stand
i want something more than the white-stuck red lollipop
i’d like it back
in fact from now on
i won’t ever hand it over
i’ll create and end
here
i’ll build worthless sandcastles sexually stacked
and when hurried rain-tide footfalls come in
at most i’ll have a burial by sea
not this great sweet cavitied sham of a thing
the best thing that’ll ever happen to the library is the fire
then the rain
mona lisa’s smile begs to be set ablaze
i take it back
you’re a glorified house of firecrackers
with unlit bone-filled things walking the halls
cowards at self-enlightenment
the best thing that ever happened to you was the field-trip
the gap-toothed child with the freshly red smile
the red crayon running before your guards could stop her extrospective self-defacement
i take it back
you’re a gloried self-hatred
the moment she saw you she knew
1
somedays i too make god in my image
i image him of water
and that somedays it all gets heavy for him too
(imagine a water balloon popping)
so the soft rain’s god getting through
that storm drain
and laying down he asks of his kids (us
with the pots plus pans deafening)
Listen, quiet down a bit
Listen, today’s been hard
2
somedays when i ask my father so
did us kids listen? well
there’s your answers too
3
yes i’ve worn shoes Love
and as laces came undone
i’ve too fallen down
and yes i’m up now
somewhere achingly putting
on shoes to run so
to lose weight rain shine
i’ll faithfully wear down shoes
and do just that yes
in order for one to definitely know
one (-self, -another, -ness)
must not try to know
nor try to be
but be
the knowledgeable ones are thus
indefinable
indistinguishable from the evil
or the good
or the anything else
they don’t distinguish and are one with all types
they don’t cease from exploration
and at the end the only thing
they know is that one Is
and that’s all the grave stones
bones and remembrances have ever said
yesterday and before
the caged lion opened its mouth
and filled us with fright
and not once have we not fled
during the night
an indefinable indistinguishable thing let the lion
amongst us
we rose this morning
and knowing what blood sweat and tears meant
we discover for the first time we are afraid
but one in it