I try to see God everywhere

For example, I think
Telephone wires look like veins
Carrying electric blood to the fingertips of the world
The world God holds in His fingertips
So what does that make my fingertips?
What does that make me?

Am I God’s creation on a confusing place called Earth, or
Do humans make up an ***** system in God,
Serving Him just to keep Him alive?

When I die
Do I die and go to Heaven, or
Do I end up on God’s bed sheet after a piece of
God’s hair falls out?

And when a piece of God’s hair falls out
Does God cry, or
Does God just wash his sheets on Sunday?
Does God notice at all?

Is God responsible or is God like me?
Does God wash His sheets, or
Does God say, “But, mom, I just don’t like making my bed.”

And if God has a mom does she say,
“Okay,” or,
“God, your sheets are *****, **** it!”

And when that happens
Does God carry me to the laundry room hamper, or
Does God toss me down to His floor?
His floor that’s messy as Hell.

And does God ever get around to cleaning it, or
Does God just need a spot to sleep?

Like love
At first sight
I watched
Eden
bloom in your eyelids.

As my heart beat
Richter scales,
I was afraid the
weight of my breath would sound
earthquake
and break the
snow globes
in your eye sockets.

For the first time,
I wished everything would
freeze
in the moment our eyes met.

When our gaze broke I was
shook
so hard I could see my dreams floating in air,
like snowflakes
looking for a place to come true.

They found a home
on your fingertips
and some you even caught on your tongue.

Now gardens grow
in my cheeks when I sleep,
and every time
our eyes kiss I
drip
into the nooks and crannies of
your lips.

You built me
a snowman
out of blown kisses and
promised it wouldn't melt.

And I built you a cottage in my cornea.

nothing                                    
worries                                    
me
more
and
matters
to
me
less
than
your
past

My life is ruined
I thought haiku was my strength
but I can't count