Tuesday, April 19, 2011


I smell mango on my hands
pins-n-needle fingers tapping remote control rubber,
and ages ago the Dutch thought
these things and put those villagers to work
probably killing them, or in the very,
historically correct, least hastened their trek
to afterlives of their own creation (volition)
Which is why I don't question your existence God--
I welcome it, in the brawling imaginary sky balling home
tears and mana and hellfire
and when I look back you turn my wife to salt pillar
in a way so the Dutch guy over there swipes
his finger a taste and wishes it was sugar ha

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