Poker And Poetry

I lost at on line poker…

so, the only thing left is poetry…

If I had any birds

I could line their cages,

except, it would be electrons,

and I don’t have any birds.

As bad at this as I was at poker…

I blame God, I point to Him 

everywhere: 

“there He is, and, over there!”

Just because He’s God, it doesn’t

mean He has to do anything.

He can’t be separate from His creation;

the Ultimate Masturbation.

(This is so much more fun than either

poker or poetry!)

Everything that can happen, will happen

because of infinity of time and space.

But, we shouldn’t blame God for that, 

because where’s the will, the intention,

if everything will just happen? 

I’m afraid

God is man’s invention; to tie up all the

loose ends, put them in a bag, throw the

bag into a corner, and forget it’s there.

(If comedians have a fault, among others,

sometimes they can’t stop telling jokes…

Paula Poundstone. What a rush, 

Dexedrine  and miles and miles of 

newsprint a la  Kerouac!)

I mean, if you’re good at knitting you knit…

hours and hours…people get onto that 

track. People make sailing ship models 

out of toothpicks…scrimshaw…

…keeping busy…heaven help you if you 

should just be there in your body, still and

sensate. No words about that.