It Is What It Is
a pair of pessimistic eyes
ignore the igniting double-rainbow
that kindles neath a dead pot of homemade anxieties.
give him a saucer of no water
and he’ll tell you all the dreams
he never had, after quenching his half thirst, that is.
spills orange juice
over the drowsing sky; no prayers
at the church made up of sand.
a pleasing idea, God,
because you don’t see,
all things bright and too holy
don’t notice you in return.