PERHAPS

What if God suffers not from the remembrance
Of nails and thirst but a lack of confidence
So that all the praise, all the epithets
Calling Him all-powerful, all-knowing,
All-seeing, all-encompassing, all-good,
All wool and a yard wide, ring hollow
Being desperate attempts to shore up an ego
The collapse of which will drown us all?
We will praise You; we will ask Bach
And Brahms and B. B. King to write You lullabies
Rest a while; do not kill us today.

LISTENING WITH MS. G

CELLO SUITE IN G

No instrument accompanies
Should it falter, the road it spools out

And the universe it creates on each side

Will be as if it never was.
If you were to say "Cello,
Every note you play was born
In the mind and heart of Johann Bach
And other cellos have come this way"
It will rightly put no credit in your words