David Floren

God's Guts

God is my guts
And ruts in distant roads.

God is my bones
And stones in undug mines.

God is my joints
And points far and wide.

God is my blood
And floods in our minds.

And floods in our homes?
God, unseen, roams.

And points close and narrow?
God in the marrow.

And stones that rise to greet our eyes?
God wears a great disguise.

And ruts that blight our private roads?
God appears to lighten loads.

God is my guts.
And ruts don’t mar my roads.

They're just there.

[3/10/04 Berkeley, CA (inspired by Yevtushenko’s The Third Memory) ]

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, February 10, 2008
Poem Edited: Sunday, February 10, 2008

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Maya Angelou

Caged Bird

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