I was inspired to pull out an older piece I had written awhile back when I was in a strange place. Maybe I was channeling e. e cummings. Maybe I was losing God. Maybe I was coming off drugs. It was awhile ago
Thoughtfully inspired bliss
Christmas spreading muddy joy (Psst, do you hear the
I saw His son's face
bleeding on a button
Did he really just forget?
A man loves to send his son away
Does he forget?
I have his son's name written somewhere.
Check my spoon.
(Could you eat without a spoon or would you die like His son?)
(Psst. Look at him squirm...Why are those damn angels singing?)
I am repulsed by their joy.
A sponge reminds us, reminds me of the pain,
who molt STUPIDITY.
Like a thousand birds,
spaced on a wire.
(Pssst, I have been spaced on a wire)
Shitting on the statue of fleshy cold marble,
"The Boy who Died in Vain."
Maybe not in vain.
Maybe in Detroit.
(A city dreams do not even venture to go.)