Rain woke me by playing bongos on the roof.
If I told you how early it is, you’d come over,
slap my head and tell me to go back to bed,
if you’re a good person with a violent streak.
What this means is I probably think of poems
as telephone calls and time as elastic
and you as silly enough to be reading this
when you could be making an egg sandwich.
I like mayo, a bit of salsa, and agnosticism
more than atheism since we’re probably
both thinking about god, if only
because I’ve just said so. Written so.
The drum solo’s over. It’s weird
how the end of noise catches my ears
leaning in its direction, then suddenly
gives them themselves and nothing
to listen to, like a whisper
taken down to the studs. What is the sound
of the end of sound? And if a tree rises
in a forest and there’s no one there
to hear it devour sunlight,
that’s a fine thing, like kneepads,
raisins, and the Goldberg variations.
While atheists are positive
there’s no god, agnostics are positive
Are we alone in the universe?
is a less pressing question
than What are you better at, loving,
or being loved?