string

these words sprout out of my
sudden knowledge which regards
why Your god s have been lost
why its wives gushed hilarity
no matter which kind of abuse

all of faith's history can be
gathered in links to a cord
of the minds of mad men from
which sane people may suspend
themselves over the abyss in bunches


their eyes pointed up away
from the great feared chasm
maintaining their string so that like
curtains they could be lifted, not
weathered snap into that warm black
to which, i'll listen, when it calls me back