I’ve been sitting here at the library for two hours staring at a blank document and–nothing.  My intention was to write a follow-up to the past two entries.  There are many possibilities but maybe I wanted to talk about God for a little while.


I often doubt that there is a god.  God is that doubt.  God is the contradiction.  God is the love marbled into my self-hatred.


If I’m tail-chasing, God is not the tail; rather, God is the never-catching Verb.


I prick my thumb with a pen nub.  God laughs.


My hands and I are trickling along a spiral.  I’m slinking toward God, God that stings like fresh lavender.


Flush with pink, I slide a finger over the threshold.  God wipes it away.  Again, I present to God a fleshy finger, a second offering.  God denies it.


God denies me everything: honesty, faith, hope, love.  God thrusts the curtain shut, and in a flash there is nothing but darkness, blood, vermin.


In the darkness, I do not have a tail to chase.  I only have the tiny, soft hairs on God’s skin, oh rapture–


On the verge, God’s agony smashes mine, and a third offering brings God to a roar.