A Seven Minute Letter (And Thoughts on God)

November 21, 2011

god is a desert sand
and he is in me.
Leaving only cinders
and trembling hands.
he is in me.
god is an Idea that grows
until I’m not sure if I am
the thinker or the thought.
god is unafraid to look upon
the unknowable
and to pursue the dark places
step by stumble.
And he is in me
pushing me inside out.
The compulsion,
the doubt,
the restless passion —
is in me.


November 18, 2011

I’ve slept for almost a decade.
78thousand 8hundred forty hours.
Nine years and counting.
$670,140 earned at minimum wage.
Eight fifty.
How is that legal?  How does a man survive
on Eight fucking fifty?
— I don’t even have a job.
Don’t sleep til three thirty
unless you don’t have a job.
Or you work nights.
I don’t work nights.
But I don’t sleep nights, either.
I just lie there as awake as the other side of the world
thinking about things
like the other side of the world.
Then next thing you know,
It’s three thirty.  I know because
I hear the door slam
when my roommates leave for their jobs.
I don’t use clocks.  I wear a watch
but I cant really read it.
I hope it makes me look responsible and
Time should be fluid and free flowing
not rigid and measured, tick for tock.
But then again,
I sleep til 3:thirty.  What do I have to be
on time for? Why should I use a