I never really thought of myself as a poet (and maybe you'll know why in a minute.) But here are some poems about God.


God (I)

Superman, shoulders bent,
eyebrows bent,
as though in despair, but it’s the signature of awe.

Batman finally healed, finally
healed and peaceful.

Wonder Woman, and all
that is pure about Wonder Woman,
and all that is naughty about Wonder Woman,
and the hot mix of these.

The Flash, and a thousand times as fast,
but not boring.

Spider-Man,
just Spider-Man
and a billion times more.
Not killing the thieves.
(But unlike Spider-Man, killing the thieves regularly,
And everyone else.)

All of them.
And the minds that thought them.

And water.
And the mind that thought water.
And the mind that thought war.
And the mind that thought peace.
And maybe all of it.
And maybe none of it.
And more and more and more and more,

And still not talking
until I render my worthiness
by raw, impossible teetering.
Or something else, quiet and regular,
that I have never learned,
building my ways as I have,
out of the motions required
by the mortar and stone that were given,
and the hungers for what was not.
(And also out of those rough things that were made
when I learned to mix clay and straw.)

...And also the clay,
and also the straw,
and also the me that mixed them --
not taking that back.

But rather taking it, sometimes,
to some somewheres,
and not taking it others,

Or so it seems to me:
yet another it,
in a cauldron of its
within the I.

* * *

God (part II)

Whoever it is that thought up
the idea of God
the Provider,
as Providence alone,
the undemanding warm sun
on a beach raining fruit,

Should be folded up into a little box
and shot.

Just my opinion.
Not my action,
partly because of, you know,
a famous precedent of some similarity.