closer to God
K.J. Stevens
[kjstevens73@yahoo.com]
Let's crack the whip and see what slips through the sliver
of time. The melodramatic rhyme perplexes the ancient vows
made by poets and drunken dames in corner alleyways on knees
or feet or in between the rats and the cats that fight them.
Let's drink and dance and take off our pants and show each
other our world. Let's fuck and find the way to tie
ourselves together so that we'll never be separated from
this. This sexual bliss. This capture of energy. Or, does it
have us? If we could stay like this, our bodies together,
sharing things we cannot see, we would live eternally. In
moments of passion we lose our sense of ration and we give
away our dreams. Our deepest thoughts. Our shallowest wants.
We give it all away. What is there to say about love and its
turbulent nature? There are creatures who feed on cats and
rats and creatures that will not dance if asked to. There
are people who bleed metal. There are gobs of turkeys in
cages waiting for slaughter. And they stare, all of them,
from behind their bars and they wait for death to come. But
you and I are different. We recognize our mortality through
these moments of transcendental wandering, and we see. We
fucking see what others cannot see because they are blinded
by sheets, and order, and roles. You and I know that we're
animals. That what we say or do will not change the world,
but that makes it all worth more in the saying and the
doing. The meaning of life comes not through trying to
construct meaning because through construction we see what
we want to see. That's why we love to live in the blindness
of passion. Connected. One. One body finding new ways to
move and feel.
So, we've broken the seal on literature. We've dusted off
the critics after beating them down and we've given them
something to look for. They froth at the mouth. They stomp
at the ground. They claw and bite like freaks. Because
that's what they are. Take your time and money and shove it
up your ass because your time and money mean nothing in the
world of fucking and getting closer to God.
Poem © 2000 Kim L. Stevens Jr., all rights reserved
appears here by permission
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