Sometimes I Think of Dawn
as God’s first cigarette,
a quiet time when
he tries to shake his dream.
When the sun reminds him
this is real, he exhales
fragrant, pensive clouds.
Sometimes I think of dawn
as the way God feels
when he wants to be alone,
or as one last sigh before
he dies and leaves us
to carry on.
Sometimes I pity God
for what he’s done.
Sometimes I pity us,
because there is
no god at all.
Sometimes I don’t.
Sometimes I think of dawn
as a ripe expansive field,
a cathedral without a dome.
Today it is a drop of wine
running down a new bride’s
scented breast and throat.
I will go mad long before it dries.
God or no god, I will go mad.
September 28, 2006
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author’s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let’s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions