Such Visions

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I’ve always had a living, breathing, diamond in my hands, faceted so to see, such visions as these: 

Great flocks of prophets fill the night sky like neon sparks over the Arabian desert. Blinding the giant telescopes below, the flight angles are efficient, the mathematics ruthless. The submission is sublime. 

I still don’t believe in real life. 

Buried colonies of Christs, ready for release, packed tight into inverted underground pyramids, weaponized and waiting for the golden age since way, way past the olden days. 

I still can’t believe in real life. 

Lucifer selling chiclets on the streets of Tijuana, still only eight years old, motherless and only beginning to feel the terrible tingle of true evil. But it will always and forever take two to tango. 

I still won’t believe in real life. 

Schools of doped-up Buddhas swimming contented circles inside plastic bags of perfectly oxygenated water, in perpetuity. But they don’t understand – heaven is exactly what you truly need, exactly when you need it most. 

I still don’t believe in real life. Jehovahs jumping like deranged stags over felled cedar forests, crushing the limbs and lungs of the Canaanites. Redemption will have to come later and in the worst and most pitiable way possible. 

I still can’t believe in real life, and 

I’ve always had a living, breathing, diamond in my hands, faceted so to see, such visions as these: 

Joseph Smith huddled with the pigeons in the gray storm clouds up above, drenched to the bone, aging and deeply unsure of what he has caused to transpire – his golden tablets long ago scoured clean by a raging torrent sent by god. 

I still won’t believe in real life. 

Shiva and Vishnu in a looping stress dream, always late for work and they can’t find something. Ganesh is in the scene, too, inexplicably in the nude. A handgun appears quite ominously, and many hands grip it all at once. 

I still don’t believe in real life. 

Computer scientists rib each other over ribs and scorpion bowls at the Pagoda Room happy hour, and then only afterward the emptying binge in top-floor condominiums – those modern-day superheroes of the eternal class war. 

I still don’t believe in real life, see, 

I’ve always had a living, breathing, diamond in my hands, faceted so to see such visions as these, 

I’ve always had a living, breathing, diamond in my hands, faceted so to see such visions as these. 

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This poem became part of a musical collaboration with the musician Mischievous Giants. Listen on SoundCloud here!