Friday, February 25, 2011

SINCERE

Many people report
feeling especially sincere
after having been hit
in the head with a hammer.

Others report nothing at
all for reasons the research
into this matter understands
(if not perfectly) at least well

enough for purposes of
publication. Do not hit
yourself in the head with
a hammer unless

instructed to do so
by someone who loves you.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

METAPHORICAL

On the banks of
a straight line death
becomes a metaphor.
A theological question

washes its hands
of itself. Mother
makes monkeys of
our ancestors by

hanging our future
on a clothesline in the
backyard. The front
yard barks when the

dog's in it, doesn't
when he isn't.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

THE SAFE SIDE

Convinced no one can
hear me, I whisper
anyway, just to be
on the safe side.

Then I cross the
street. When I
go somewhere,
but I'm not sure

I'm there, I
leave to be on the
safe side. On the
safe side of anything

suspicious, I take
an extra precaution.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

BUTTERFLY

Absence of empathy
is all the rage
these days. The bad
seed nibbles on a

corner of her cookie,
wondering what fuss
is (and isn't). A horsefly
dies and doesn't move

an inch inside its death.
What doesn't happen
is kept track of by
a moon that waxes

and wanes. The wind
wipes a butterfly away.

Monday, February 21, 2011

DOG

Animals, it is said,
can sense a person's
sense of humor and
will tell jokes in

exchange for food.
Monkeys are funniest,
of course, because they
remind us of ourselves

(despite what some
nervous creationists
claim). I once saw
a creationist faint at

the sight of a dog he
had mistaken for a mirror.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

NEW

The adults open a
new silence and insert
it into the room.
The children make

believe its a ball,
bouncing it on the
floor, off the walls,
and, finally, out the

window into the street.
God sees this and uses
it as an excuse
for no longer existing.

We rush to the church
to worship the new silence.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

RAISON D'ETRE

On a sunny day in the nineteenth century someone had rosy cheeks. I mention this because, if I didn't, it might never get mentioned. If's a perfect example, I feel, of what couldn't possibly matter unless absolutely everything did.