poem: the last pavilion (for me, for you)

I want to have God even in the dark places
so that I am not writing revels or anthems
but writing glass, writing kitchen-windows
so ninety people can see
myself, inside the chaotic parts
where my mind is already on fire, already
dancing like tomorrow is myth.
So that when I say “I am a Christian,”
I do not put myself into false elitism
but show
that I am here with the beasts too
that I also have chemical nights where guns
belong best by heads
that I did not end myself because there is
something else,
Someone Greater.


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