We must not be sad
Under an ancient moon
Where the glistening waterways move
And the owl and the night hawk listen

Trees that reach out with strong branches
Caressed by a tender breeze
And loons flying over the thatch
And eyes that are darker than these

In the hollow beside the copse
Waits a figure, in the tangled deep
Praying for another chance
While the priest and the laborer sleep.

Ancient, invisible God of the Hebrews,
Some have renamed You, and crowned You
Their Christian god; but for the discerning person
We just need a little more proof.

Here are some forms and paper work,
You need to fill out;
And of course we'll need a certified note,
Declaring just when and where and how
You came into Being, and listing
All next of kin- yes Your Son absolutely should qualify for that-

And we'll need His death certificate on file,
For future referencing, and any dependents-
What's this about Three Persons in One?
Do You have a psychiatric doctor You see?
We should probably have his information too, just in case.

Immaculate conception?
I'm sorry, that just isn't acceptable in any court of law.
Every woman seems to believe it at first, of course,
But that doesn't make it hold water-
****** birth? hmm, very interesting.
Perhaps an examination is in order,
Something surely doesn't seem right here?

Martyred for our sins? What an interesting idea.
Resurrection? Is there a record of that anywhere?
I suppose it's possible You could have had
a colorful near death experience,
If You were really resuscitated- oh it was Your Son?
Oh, You Yourself accomplished this Re-Animation-
Oh oh oh! I've got to get that call.
Hold on; be right back, dear.

"Get the guys in white coats down here in room
311 right away. I've got a hot one.."

I am the universal signal mixer
On frequency h-u-m-a-n
Intaking and excreting vibrations
Decoding and synthesizing inputs
Receivers attuned and continuously engaged
Transposing matter and energy
Into light patterns of thought
Touching all waveforms
As a lover touches himself and others
Energy frozen into matter
Love frozen into form
Stretched to the very limits
On the blueprint of time, eternity
As dreamed by, yours truly

Where shall a hungry mermaid dine
When she hankers, for something fine?
Spiny oysters make a nice cocktail;
And octopus tentacles; and grey narwhal.

And where should she sit, and what shall she use
To stab her undersea feast, infuse
Her goblet, filled up with sparkling sea water,
Awaiting her course, of fresh sea-otter.

And should she tip, at the end of the meal
The dolphin who served her so much krill,
In his scrutable suit, of skin-tight rubber-
(The respectable mermaid never eats blubber).

You lit my life; my fuse was done,
While I swam deep waters all abuzz;
In fathoms deep, I sought your dream-
No one cares about dust on a submarine.

The mysteries were all right there,
The sky cracked open, to show new air,
And the whole world, with your presence rang-
No one cares about dust on a submarine.

Now I haunt the deepness of the void,
And my hope is no more buoyed.
In nameless twilight worlds, I'll sing;
No one cares about dust on a submarine.

I go to sleep again, eventually
After hours of fitful tossing,
Unwilling to surrender
To the nightly unknowing.

Some nights bring forgetting of everything;
Self, days, events, time, life itself.
Others fill themselves up
With a sort of coin, of wavering moonlight
Seen through the haze of obfuscating dewfall.

Reflections broken free from the sea of self
Raise unobstructed to float,
Hanging in the cooling ether of dreamscapes
Where in the fog nameless dogs bark
And dark landscapes prevaricate.

Where clocks do not follow rules,
Where gravity sometimes suspends
Or history rewrites itself.
Judgments come down and are executed
Beyond the dignity of reason.

Nights pass slowly through a watery realm
Where nothing is concrete,
As we wade clumsily through clumps of time,
Skip through a children's maze of nonsense riddles.

And when the knowledge of being in a dream
Pierces sporadically, through the body's paralysis
We awaken, amazed to find
That we are simply ourselves again,

Then we stretch back out, into the other dimension,
Ready to dream some more lines;
Sample some more realities
Till morning awakens us with hands
Of impatient brightness.

And abstraction slinks away
To wait for the next evenings
Entertainment of amnesia.

Heterodyning, between word and thought-
Entraining the brain;
The voice dictating,
The fingers scrabbling.

I am only the burnt toast
Of this universe,
That has a craving
To recognize itself
Through temporal eyes.