Blessed be praying to a god
that is real
that is there
Radiant green energy.
The time for words is over.
Stop with the pencils piling up everywhere.
her biggest fear,
tempt the volcano, get a nightmare…
So take the ax – cut off the bits –
talk to god about everything.
a god that whistles and lives.
post post mortem
gobble gobble a god that is kind,
and penetrates her mind.
She needs a muse, too, anonymous
like starlight from another galaxy
with a hunger for closeness and reciprocity…
Box of junk for sale. She needed to put the garbage in a place that wasn’t a trash can and would be kinder to small birds who don’t care for the cold.