the giver of life / the giver of death

a catholic once told me

that as a child

he knew the shape of god:

a frail man, wounded

the method of his Horture

appropriation of His death


ah, then i think my god has always

been calligraphy,

golden names or virtues

whispered in circles

a perfect number just beyond

another tongue's abstraction

everything so close to nothing

as spied in jabir's gyre