stop looking for Jesus
in all my poems.
i mean - i’m sure he’s in
there
somewhere
sometimes
haunting the words
(he likes to do that)
whispering in the ear,
confusing the issues –
but I suspect
he’s more likely sitting
beside you
while you’re reading,
astounded
you keep finding him –
like Waldo –
in every scene.
this need to see him
in every line
is a perverse hide and seek
–
where you hide
(and miss)
what the poem is hiding.
you resist the poem –
its ability to surprise you.
you nail it to the page,
flay the words,
filling the empty spaces
with some imagined
revelation;
this text, and that text,
and the next word.
let him announce himself;
let him give up the Ghost.
i have no idea what he’s
trying to say –
i can’t hear him over your
affirmations,
choking on the words
you force into his mouth.
instead,
try entering
the poem’s space
and wait.
look for yourself there,
if you must.
maybe Jesus will meet you;
maybe
not.
