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god is not knowing where i am.
god for smoldering while writhing, and the writing
over wall cracks made by crackling flame – this is god.
locking doors is also god.
god is a lot
like the opposing
sentiments of empty, exactly – this
being foolhardy but the struggle is clean.
a mitochondrial display of apples. a deepening
respect for record-keeping.
is it normal to forget all i knew and know now.
i wish i could watch sleep but i always dissipate
when stirred to light.
no honking slogans. do not honk for this,
even if you are quick
to follow me to a route where you
can see it all.
is it best
to find the garden first and start
or to irrigate a lesser one.
is good the same as god
enough. if i speak the word
of the threshold is it
already too late to have it all. to cross it.
questions asked without marking cannot accept answers
and yet implies. if i warn you fore i take off then
am i not god.
would love to get on the hook again for anything really but running
out of real estate.
if i find you later will you speak the word to me and lazarus or lay yourself
to the glowing shapes of fire
ass to grassland.
might hell be good
then if it grow us
lesser spirits inhabit my fingertips than in fireflies and godness
honestly has little to do with it.