In the middle God recreated the body and the mind.
Now my mind had been fine, just fine,
having reached respectable wrinkles.
But God’s a crafty brooder
so he hatched a plan
(which I bet was there all along):
Thou shalt be a poet.
So God said let there be doubt
and there was doubt.
And he called the doubt soul.
God wagered that doubt would deepen my senses,
most likely help me get behind.
So he gathered bittersweet and memory
and said take, eat.
I did and was filled.
God sighed: Now thou art ready
to name my creation.
And there was dusk
and there was evening,
and it was good.

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No Comments

  1. Rich on June 13, 2011 at 1:53 am

    This may well be your finest work….Amen!

  2. thebeautifuldue on June 13, 2011 at 2:29 pm

    Thanks, Rich…those words mean a great deal coming from you.

  3. […] beauty and an aching grace, and his voice is true and consistent but variable. Read this one and this one, and everything else. Like this:LikeBe the first to like this post. This entry was posted in […]

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