I'm not as religious
as my mom thinks I am.
She teaches other kids
about our shared faith
every Sunday, with me in tow.
It's not that I don't believe
in the gods that she does.
God is supposed to
guide you and inspire you,
and teach, protect, and love you.
So I implore you:
find God in the halls of an art gallery
or in the crashing waves at the beach.
Find God at the bottom of a bottle
or on the top of a skyscraper,
the middle of a forest,
in the words of scholars
or in the cells of life itself.
Call it what you want,
but find God
in everyone
and everything.

**** something
or phone a friend
bury the past
or find an end
contemplate suicide
or running scared
decide if you pay cash
or leave your credit bared
take a lot of pills
and drink a lot
cut yourself properly
just to make the pain stop
sweet talk your alter ego
to go just another day
or choose which way to go
if you can't stay
drive for miles
in a direction you don't know
ask the street signs for guidance
even if it shows
where you won't end up
but isn't it a game?
you'll look for guidance
on every corner
that starts to look the same

Behind these four walls
I see a man looking for an escape
He grips a knife, looking at possibilities--
Perhaps he'll slash his wrists
And let his love pour open;
Maybe he'll **** the noise
That surrounds his daily fuss;
Either way, I know better
Than to answer the calls of such a man
In the mirror, I see him, say goodbye
And wonder when we'll meet again.

Help me! help me! now I call
To my pretty witchcrafts all;
Old I am, and cannot do
That I was accustomed to.
Bring your magics, spells, and charms,
To enflesh my thighs and arms;
Is there no way to beget
In my limbs their former heat?
æson had, as poets feign,
Baths that made him young again:
Find that medicine, if you can,
For your dry, decrepit man
Who would fain his strength renew,
Were it but to pleasure you.