I saw God, once. I was old, or at least old enough To realize that there was no God. And I saw God. Looking in a mirror I witnessed myself, devoid, Slicing fine lines, parallel across My placid neck. “How’s the show?” It’s wonderful. You’ll never forget it. Death teeters on my ring finger, and My hand drops. Sleet and flames Scorch through my forsaken veins And paint a mobile mural upon My c...