It bothers the father more than the father can say, this sound of the teeth and tongue of the son chewing the food in the open mouth, this food that was the work of the mother sitting beside the father and beside the son, the mother between the father and the son, staring down at the food on her white plate, praying that the father does the work this time, the hard work of keeping his mouth shut about the … Read on…
It is precisely because there is no God, At least not one that hovers overhead And looks and sounds like A giant, semi-transparent Charlton Heston, That we must not sin. Sin wouldn’t matter so much If there was a nicely muscled Sky-bound Michelangelo figurine, Even some indignant angels, A demarcated heaven and hell, A legible book of days A risen scapegoat, any old chance At transcendent punishment, Forgiveness, or redemption. But there isn’t. And that is precisely why You had … Read on…