He Said

god has not bothered me much he said ants continue to terrorize nations the ugly I have found to be beautiful the root the gnarling tree trunk they believe in me what I see - I am he said it is hard to cope only writing crazy poetry keeps me sane an eighteen-wheeler roars the rigs smoke stack passes just below wings hovering descending to the black top to the flat carcass of a possum a beak resumes its conversation with death i recall as a boy standing by a window looking at a flock of sparrows sparrows just like those seen now every feather could be the same are the same he said the air-conditioner is a hive of humming minds most pillows are stuffed with whispers gulls scream the sky is all theirs yet it is not enough ghosts do not bother me what does not seem to change that bothers me