the gospel choir in my closet says so
but i am sure that church is not
where we all reach our own
peaking voice
and every screaming pitch
floats up through the air
and collects in one long throat
that fuels the sun.
well i would much rather live as a rock
and not believe in god,
let every snapping synapse
of my face
swell into an omen
that hangs above my head
and falls back down to cover me
in moss.
the earth is so much quieter
than church.
someone promised me a bird
but i knew it wasn't true
so i slept until i didn't
care that much.
Author notes
if god isn't real, i've come to terms with it
A contest entry
- pick your brain by the atlantic.
1000 points, ended August 5, 2008, 6 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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the last lines really are brilliant. it happened to me today
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you realized that god wasn't real and accepted it, or someone promised you a bird and you knew it wasn't true so you slept until you didn't care that much?
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the latter
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mmmm, give me the details of that.
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I WANT TO FRAME THIS AND PUT IT ON MY WALL
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"the gospel choir in my closet says so
but i am sure that church is not
where we all reach our own
peaking voice'----------->Holy shit. YESSSSSSSSSS.
I love your poetry. I hope you'll be posting more!
-joan.
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yay
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the earth is so much quieter
than church.>>>>>>>>>>>ahhhhhhhh! so great
This whole poem is great, great, great!
~Meg
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"and collects in one long throat
that fuels the sun."
YESSSSS. That is all I have to say.
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and every screaming pitch
floats up through the air
and collects in one long throat
that fuels the sun.
but know this, when you first showed me those lines my mouth dropped -
i am so excited by this, i'll give you a proper critique when sheryl crow is not haunting me uggghhhhhh
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