impossibly hard

"come now, let us reason together,"
written honestly for liars
who don't care: gold unpolished isn't gold
they say, although in Jerusalem
it always sells the same
between friends.

"i love you: farewell,"
the books explained from boxes by the pond;
i think he meant to drown himself with literature.
tomorrow, i'll ask him why,
knowing no answer exists; he'll only say
he needed leaving left alone.

"awake, why sleepest thou, oh Lord?"
Petersborough's grave chronicler
silently mourns divine silence. we agree, but don't
admit to it: priests toss at night
praying prayers aren't empty thoughts.
our petty minds mumble such Celestial formalities.

"I wept,"
he admitted to the biographer, but why
he never could explain.
and never rude enough to ask,
Lazarus leapt to his second death wondering why
he'd been let fall slowly to the first.

"i am on your side,"
but: 2+2 must equal 5, we must condemn Julia
and O'Brien must have control, control, control:
even of the sand bead on your journal.
your side must be his, Winston, then will
his be yours.

"ask, seek, knock, and it shall be given to you,"
it was so honestly said so long ago,
but who ever undestood it?
men will always gorge themselves on greedy prayers:
that's not what he intended, is it?
but where, o where was all that holy fine print?




november '08
april '09