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Poem

A man begins the search outside his head
with wondering, what kind of God would make
a wind-up primate, hot to rule his world,
endowed with nothing more than jealousy 
to motivate his simian success.

But no, there simply must be something more
in peering out upon the field to see
an ass's jawbone crush a brazen skull 
or drown with liquid words, an enemy.

Of what divine intent is the enfant terrible
who calls upon the prince to gasp above
the nails for his own sin?  What triumphing
is that?  There is the seed apostasy
has dipped in blood and planted in the soil
of apostolic greed.

Ho, everyone that thirsteth, come and buy!
There is a heaven here, a boon, a sigh
for every paradise pursued in vain,
for yellow cobblestones, and mansions in the sky.

A singular dimension waits beyond
the taking of a dream to consciousness,
for that becomes the moment when the God
of Abraham falls silent, angels need

to chant no more to shepherds on the hill.
The new Jerusalem has open gates
for every traveler; the wine is soft 
upon the lees, the song is lush upon
the ear, the night perfumed forevermore
with love.
                      ~

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