i.

when his fingers began to bleed, father stopped closing his eyes to pray.  

     the worst thing I heard as a child was how god made
not only
me.

it was either the suicide of my imaginary friends or the imagined
suicide     of my real.  mother’s hands were that way

because of the dye
in dish gloves.  

ii.

on this that has become the story of my prematurity
I’ll say    

the food we get has already been defeated.

iii.

the boredom of today’s children
has no depth.

touch a throat in a totem’s mouth.

iv.

your mother was a hologram of a voodoo doll.

when father
not father
as the gay
madman
first met
her     the bump on her head

was much
bigger.

v.

with a pocket knife or some other **** thing the word gargoyle has been scraped into every idle machine.

the drug addled uncles have a rare focus and take non-consecutive short naps.  

you can shake your head about the babies

they remember
nothing.

vi.

god is no more than a clipped moan
scrambles
the angels.