don’t understand me
no numeral of quantity
preacher lady looking
at accusations in a book
saying infinity is proof
of a mathematical sacrifice
that saved humanity
if only we could get back
to three and then zero
says quantum physics
is why we have clocks
and space shuttles
slipping through cracks
in the fabrics of blankets
claims blankets are white
masses, says I’m mass
the tree is mass, birds
are mass and a mass
is a spot that breaks
into a speck so small
my car is invisible to god
claims i don’t pray right
because i do it with my
hands and my speech
is imperfect, can’t talk
to god with a slur or slang
says i need to be prized
and perfect like a precious
moment figurine, demands
i stop calling him home boy
he’s not your boy, throws
a piece paper at me with
nothing on it but a squiggle
in the middle of a circle,
claims it represent life
and who i used to be
when i had a brain
and understood counting
was invented for more
than money, need to crunch
the numbers to understand
my sister is the same as me
though she died in a hospital,
tells me i’m better than nobody
but I act like a stranger hiding
my divinity code under a hat
In some ways, this reminds me
In some ways, this reminds me of James Dickey's poem, "May Day Sermon."
Starward
Shut The Noise!
Your pix is a man with a blue guitar! God Is My Home Boy: An Autobiography (I get the jokes, nicerness!) ~allets~