empty, almost





everything 
is growing closer 
together
up and out 
and down and god is getting 
squeezed from all the gaps,

like the last 
bit of toothpaste in 
the tube, to 
land in the 
sink by the drain, missing the 
end of the toothbrush










Shadorma November, Day 4 (nine days late....)
(...or does that make it eight?...)


fluid


"god" is a word.
"god is dead" is three words.

Meaning is fluid, pumping 
from three words
to what you believe 
I believe.

“guts” is a word.
“I hate your guts” is four words.

I don’t know your guts.
My words are
meaning moving in
your guts.

“Can you taste the venom in my soul?”
I have no soul.
You have no guts
to call your own.
Venom has no taste and
no vessel. 

“Guts” is just a word.
“Soul” is just a word.

“god” is 
just a word.
God is just.
God is justice.

Justice is a worm.

I have worms in my guts,
God’s guts.






...puttin' the Po' in NaPoWriMo...