(or: a complaint flames out and veers sharply in the direction of prayer)

          “Manley yes, but I like it too!”


Fleeting but sophisticated almost-insights
     of panic-stricken proportions
Like sudden anxiety attacks
In an old musty library where the librarian’s
     glasses hang by a chain just above her bosoms
     (sure it’s “her”; never denied sexism)
But all chemically controlled
(The almost-insights, that is, not the bosoms)

That’s what all these unthematized thoughts
     jangling for something akin to “attention”
But several notches shy of articulation
Keep sounding or feeling (or maybe even
     smelling) like, or not quite like
But not unlike

The text-box is a vague beckoning
The echo of what feels like a commitment
To post, a pining for opining
Scattering seems so oppressive this week
Dispersion simply depressing (as if
     “simply” were really anything like itself)

A slog to the blog once a day, or twice
Or seventy times seven, each time
     expecting forgiveness.  From whom?
The readers?  (Is there anybody OUT[in] THERE?
     Just nod if you can hear me)

It’s as though “I” am out now, when “I”
Is supposed to be the in, the sanctum,
The theater without concessions so no one
     sweeps up popcorn during the credits
But also there are no out-takes.

A theater, when “silent,” needs a piano player
And surely (stop calling me…) “Dwight”
     is no player; he’ll elicit no pianist envy
Why? Why? Why is that “conservative” presence
There like a shadow or a fly on the wall
When the panel is concerned with
     matters of consequence?
     (Wouldn’t that be most appropriate if the panel
      were looking at little prints?)

I believe in God, you know
Yes, I really do
I mean, I don’t know if God exists
But I do believe in God
Today it’s not just “believing in believing”
At least that’s not how it feels
God is that than which nothing greater
     could be conceived
And instead of an argument that’s an
Invitation precisely not to conceive
Because if you do, it’s not God
And thus not something in which I will [to] believe

But today, today [this week] as nothing
Seems to arise that I might hold it forth
I can say this
I can say

This: God is grand (and not baby grand)
And don’t you think that just because I blog
My silly little atheisms that old Gerry Hopkins
Wasn’t right as rain to invite the ravishing
Not by a lover, but

I started this because I had no starting site
     (this week)
And it seems the finish is foil to be shaken

God shines today
I don’t know if God exists
But I know (TODAY) that
     God shines

Let God so shine

     (That they might know some kindness again)
      Let’s have some wine!

I probably won’t believe tomorrow
For at least part of the day
But now I’m sure that then I’ll be wrong

This will stop neither my not believing
     nor my being wrong
And I won’t know
But it feels good to say it now

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