[i]for John Sweet[/i]

God whirls around you
And you do not see him.

You are Heisenberg.

If God chose to
Appropriate your poems,

Your brittle images –
So lucid that they make

The back of my eyes ache –
Would be lost to me.

An entire universe would
Cease to exist.

You have prayers,
But God knows that

You are not yet ready for Him…

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