Creation Stories

Man was born in streams of milk
from Earth's whimpers in the night.
The Sky, twinkling archway with cigarette.
Father, dangled his pipe.

God shattered his fist.
Shut in the boughs of grace, furnaces
smoked God out.
Furies of our intersections
muddled God's laughter
and shrieks of our shame flags
flew like an oven,
or a Resurrection
of gut-sacks.
God, throbbing, squeezed the soil
and from Earth's wounds, Man slipped out.

His Mother cooed: "Man was born thirsty."
Man raged into her volcano breasts,
and they were minnows who slithered
upstream.
The Sky saw Man as a bastard
whose delicate eyes would jerk open
when suffocated or
whose body would drift
when washed too clean.
God loved the human rubbish until sundown.
Sky became twilight and
He gave man palms to beg with.