| All rights reserved. |
Rose City Publishers
 | |  | |  | |  | |  |
Paintings
Poems
| seventeen theologians gathered for a circle jerk god is cause god is candy cane is curse god is polio and black plague god is cure god is the mindless mob gathered to his murder god is a child's toy is a machine gun is a blue ball gone over the fence god is acid-rain god is Wal-Mart going up in flames god is sunlight god is spiked god is a blind ideal with one good tooth god is jonestown and cherry flavored kool-aid god is the face on mars is the freak in the mirror god is a roasted ear of corn is the whore the drove van gogh god is a radio advert pissed against a blood-red wall god puts the candles on your cake god pops pills & god get higher than you god is a button (((depressed))) god is never coming down portland it's been raining for 13 days but God has been dead much longer and I step deftly over the man laying drunk in the stink of his own piss at the corner of burnside and oblivion my boots slap a puddle part a sea split a hair a pigeon shits and he shouts at my back --hey buddy I ain't eat in a week! but I don't give him any money cuz I'm as gutless as God wuz good and I'm dying for a beer delivery it comes for us all and it is nothing personal the president the panhandler the physician the factory rat the king of spain and the cockroach crawling in and out of the skull that once caged the thoughts of your fucked up father the sun's yellow fingers in your hair the mailman and his blue bag of letters most of which are not personal, either wonder my left hand is a mystery to me (I can't write my own name with it) and my brown balls hanging hairy from the hole in my shorts equally strange and unknowable as any of the world's 7 wonders gene kissler across the street spraying ants off his drive with a garden hose 77 years old and hair white as God when they come to ask you what you know what is your worth purpose come to hang you from the thin tree of reason tell them nothing tell them to look see and spread the wisdom of your wonder brown balls hanging strange from the hole in your shorts on an endless afternoon hairy and unknowable |
