We are sand broken off the rock of God
Where is he if not in the swell of the Ordos?
Is he in the vacant eye of the bird-headed infant Christ?
Dwarfed by men on muleback
A hoofclap is a pilgrim’s malformed sermon
Seeded in the ivory and the backseat teens—
Lovers lovelessly abound in their grim fixations
The skies are bitter
The moon did stove the clouds
And the night faded into the depths of darksome radiance beyond the west.
Has death carved deformity from the marble of our being?
Cursing us for our temperament?
Is god deformed and are we in his image?
Maybe our holy father is a dullard of his own making—
Dumbly watching his grotesque children
Interesting poem with some strong verses Blace! Feels like a chimera of verses mirroring the deformed god it calls
More thought provoking than you may have intended!