Hello.

I’m talking to myself.

Hello.

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Lord of the Skies

The lord that I worship, the lord that is mine,
   Transfigures my spirit from lead to confetti.
I meditate daily to reach the divine,—
   The monster that flies and is made of spaghetti.

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In Mid-song

My God: It loved me just enough to bring
My ass from out of nowhere—nothing-land—
Into this world wherein a bird can sing
A pretty song cut short by a playful hand
That loads a jagged rock into a sling,
And holds the tension on the rubber band
Until that time the rock’s sent rocketing
Throatward—

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