Wine to Water

by jerrontables


It strikes me as


that just as we

turn the tamed

(rake the land; torch and claim),

we stake the


as our own and

(cocksured decoding)

piecemeal the stitching of God

as a fourth-rate guess completely out of some context never known–like a three-year-old playing the lottery and, under every exclamation to the contrary, insisting that he’s won.



Cookies on the house.