Here is the place
I start crying.

Where I kneel in false worship
Before puking, at the temple door.

Where I beckon to the ******, who run
Back to the congregation.

So, I drink to satisfy
My own unrealized faith.

I ***** mornings because no one said,
I love you.

Then it is not my fault, I say to the laughing mice
To the flies buzzing in my face

In this is the place,
Down by the culvert,

In three inches of chilly water;
Here is the place I start praying.

Knowing there will be no answer but death
Or the sun.

Knowing, I can listen because I have done it
Twelve hundred times before,

Every day of my life,
That I listen, but never learn

Like the child who
Was deaf and lived among the wolves.