this woman who asks
about my father
who writes
i've read your poems
and what they sound like is
so much shit
tells me that i can't deny god
because he will never deny me
and what i think about is
this hard grey light falling from
an indifferent sky
and the way that none of the birds
cast shadows
what i think about
is the god of starving dogs
fucking someone's teenage daughter
in a cheap motel room while
his children sit at home
while his girlfriend bleeds on
the bathroom floor
and what we need to give up is
this idea of AMERICA
this idea of a group of people
moving with certainty
towards some clearly defined future
remember that christ wasn't
the first to be crucified
or the last
understand that his death is
no more or less
important than my father's
this is all i ever
really wanted to say
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