Today I wanted to buy the copyright to the process of hallelujah
******* in joy the same way whales eat krill
You just bottle it up inside your lungs until you have enough

Inside my fridge I have vacuum sealed jars of hallelujah
There’s nothing religious about that
Jars labeled things like
Loss of virginity
Rob lived this time
The homework is complete

Hallelujah

It’s the same way prayer works
Backwards
Pulling bits of god like an inhale

I want to hyperventilate on your hallelujah
Like a gospel choir on speed

It collects
Over time
For instance
It was maybe a month in to sleeping at Delia’s and Toffer’s house
Before I realized
I didn’t have to sleep in my car anymore
You go into the bathroom to **** and realize
Hallelujah
A jar labeled
Found a Home for now

I know science can do this
For the sake of all that is a monument to a single life
So that on your death bed, or at your funeral
Everyone there can hold a jar

Cold and warm at the same time
Vibrating in their palms
In violent joy
Like mozzletoff cocktails
They are thrown
And when they shatter there is a song
That has been collecting for years

The same word in different tonal joys

Your life

Every good moment

Hallelujah

a penny is a penny
and i am a monk hawking birth control pills
without any shame or pride
disguised in flamboyant tinfoil.
i am an extra sensitive *** on my daily street corner
turning into a crumb of hunger
staring down a long alleyway and eating the flowers
that grew up in concrete.
there are shadows of jugglers on the wall
jumping into the sun, and i am a burning lampshade.
henry miller is in a wheelchair now
and i am a walrus with a backache
being forced among the proverb writers,
but i'm no prophet because i've seen the bubbling fire
and the swords on the doorway.
i am a lover with a guilty conscience
and i have too much on my mind.
i stole the bread from the riot squad and
i blow out these words from a keyhole,
pounding my fist on a book
while the mystics get drunk with skinny ******.
i don't go to birthday parties or funerals
instead i'd like to do something worthwhile
but i am your typical flunky, writing eccentric jokes about rich pimps
while my father lies dead on the hill.

I started going to church when I was
about seven years old
when my papa was still
alive
I remember because he's the one
who dropped me off there
for summer camp
I think that was one of the
last moments
we spent alone with each other
before he died

I wish I could remember whatever
he might have said to me

Anyhow
I went to this church until I was about
fourteen years old
then they fired our youth pastor
for reasons I'll never know
but everyone will have some sort
of answer for
because this is a small town
& everyone is in trouble
for some misdeed

I started listening to rock music
& dressing in nothing but
black

oh the look on the face of every
respectable adult in this
withering town
I could have painted them all
petrified
but it didn't matter
because that's the year I met
some great long-term
friends
& we would have many
drinks and
dark stories to tell each other
later

I never attend that church anymore
but I got married in another one
& the pastor shared our last
name even though we
weren't related

my sister-in-law tells me he reminds her
of the fake plastic Tim Allen Santa

I wonder when I'll ever
fall asleep