HAVING read their terrible poems, having hated, I rose terribly upwards.
My flesh—out of blind hatred—exploded off my bones like bats.
Like bats in a panic, my crawling fat PRECIPITATED off my skeleton.
My suddenly-naked scaffolding resonated with rage.
And I saw below me the earth was opening; the oceans were unraveling.
And I saw rushing into the reactor core were freight trains and ships.
And I saw the consonantal sprocket come loose from the vowel chain.
And I saw anastomosing galaxies collapse.
And I heard the language God uses to scold the incorrigible angels:
A set of rhythmic humming pulses, half meter, half dementia.
And the smoke enveloping my understanding all blew away;—
And I stared into the face of the static GODHEAD;—
And I and you and he/she/it—all at once, we closed our books.
And peace reasserted its rights then.  Peace and clouds and dreamless sleep.

Anthony Madrid

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