Yahweh Poem by JAY WALK

There he is,
lingering in the illusions
of an alcoholic,
patterned
in lights and shadows.

In mountains
less-traversed and the
prayers that melt
into their mist.

In the sexually timid,
finding balance
this life, and the next,
and also the ones doomed
to carry hell within.

On the earth we
inherit: and
in the sand, the rocks
and the sea.

And when I roam in cemeteries,
grief no longer a
favorite concubine yet
all my sorrows
faithfully close to my feet,
I see him.
He who deserves little of Eden
and him,
almost deserving of hell.