God grew from a magic seed to start the universe
God is very plain in extravagant wrapping paper
God's pen smells like a dog
His eyes are the eyes of a cat
God fucks, the moon is too small for him
But he likes to vacation on Venus
God has not gotten bored of himself
God's artistry of particles
surrounds him with sinuous pretzels of
snakelike celestial activity
He is ceaselessly entertained
by his motion which is thought itself
bound to light's beginnings
and without stagnation
God has finally gotten bored of politics
He is bending the architecture of Hell
with little whispers
God is keeping track of time
by always breaking out of time,
God has a secret that he keeps like a slave
voluntarily,
God writes like roots on stone
but the roots don't die
God is all the imagined rooms
inside the suggestions of the recipe.
God has flamed out
against the bars of his cell
He likes to test himself
in the zones of limitation
Bearded with the healing fire that seals
the breach between the sexes
God is the only real hermaphrodite
and the only one with a holy cause
God is a cousin of Isaac Asimov
He parties with Greeks, he leaves early
to find his suffering tribe in the desert
God yearns for the unknowable
He conceives a vegetable world
and then drenches it in vagrant sperm
God is the symphony within behind
the static in all uninhabited
frequencies of radio
God hollows out
the eggplant of consciousness
with a touchless laser tool.
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