Psalms

Let My Body Be Wracked With Fits of Thankfulness

Let my body be wracked with fits of thankfulness as it rots away. Let the slow decay of muscle fibers, ligaments, organs, bones be overwhelmed by the compounding force of praise. Let my body enter rigor mortis only in the paralyzing sublimity of the things of this world.

In Praise of the Hush of Early Morning I Sing

In praise of the hush of early morning I sing. In praise of the hum of automatic climate control. In praise of large-scale manufacturing. In praise of drunks and addicts, bigots, altruists, millennials, boomers, Charlie Puth, Drake, Mick Jagger, Wu-Tang, the Communist Party, Martin Luther King Jr., water heaters, angry drivers, concrete, penicillin, Instagram, computing …

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In Praise of Lemongrass and Grapefruit I Sing

In praise of lemongrass and grapefruit I sing. In praise of limequat, loquat, cumquat, satsuma, confederate jasmine, elephant ear, juniper, canna lily, aloe vera, peppergrass, sow thistle, bottle brush, and dollar weed I sing. In praise of earth bearing patiently, one more day, the feet of human kind I sing.