more editing

not hymn

i.
the deafness of god is
not underestimated
to be
by even the most atheistic
apostles &
though debt is a virtue
hanging by log
pined into our wet brains
the sounds one makes
when prayer is a
possible answer
or hitting coolly laid
pavement another—
never sums up
the callous silence
of an accident

ii.
to be a colossus of
parallel tracks
& or rumble
of prone steal
reminds a bend or
some say tunnel
who is truly coming
by
& by
but still remains un—
proven what
lies
ahead

iii.
standing up
for several hours &
then kneeling
before standing up once more
all the while
denying
effort transcends
triumvirate bodies in
the name
of the etcetera

iv.
cannot remember face
or fact by calling
out to nameless robes
in vain
though names were never
necessary
all under
breath of rib
gnostic &
believable
when darkness was
a lovely
man

v.
on rocks made of skulls
you & i
sit fist tight
against stubbled chins
waiting for
sheepskin to soak
up what is not there
or never was
some firmament
of voices
leering with
their omniscient
bald beards
only watching to count
pentamerous
mistakes
we make in
forgiveness