Of Darwin and God

Of Darwin and God

The life and the breath,

Darwin;

of Darwin and God,

thinking the footprints

are a monkeys

not mans.

 

Doesn’t really matter

When coated with sugar,

listening to

Airborne Toxic Event.

 

Blood from the feet

and palms,

Stigmata?

or a drunken fall

down a flight of stairs.

 

A bison has never

played a guitar,

or hummed a Beatles tune,

or a beetles tune.

 

“And it starts,

sometime around midnight.”

echoes down the halls

of every library,

laboratory,

and church.

 

It’s all pain really.

 

Thinking;

that’s the hard part.

 

Not buying bananas

at the H.E.B.