I am standing next to a Jesus,
He is softly telling me in His high
Jesus-voice how doomed I am,
He who came
here to un-doom me.
I am an expert
sinner no lieutenant deity could
I am a handful for the
those cloudy watchers who rage at
my questions from within a sack of grain,
a thawing river,
impermanence one could curry favor
I was born before logic,
introducing it in artificial
waves over this bled and hanging beggar,
this myth who sees Himself as more than me.