You and I know

but You more than I…

(that whole omiscience thing)

that I thought it would be cool

to write You into a novel

respectfully asserting that You would remain

nonfiction, as per usual

but in Your usual ironic fashion

You wrote me into Your story

making me nonfiction instead.


I am surprised when people depict You

with eyes

or old man nice

really?  I think, trying hard not to laugh

it would be like calling an earthquake a rocking chair

or a hurricane a light breeze–

stick drawing the Infinite

failing to see

the real You

shocks me

because You are always there.


people talk about religion

and i think, who cares about religion?

It is You, always You

lighting up the sky


I know You do not mind when I talk familiar to you

but I know Who you are

and am in awe.


write me

into all of Your






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