Thursday, September 18, 2008

Deposit Box

Each day he quietly aims his slingshot at the sky

and rockets something up and out
and right into an almost sacred envelope of time;
thinking every artifact he launches
fills some private cosmic warehouse;
considers this a unique form of spiritual investment,
anecdotal evidence to help God know him better.
Last week as he shot a piece of carrot at the universe
he imagined over time,
along with his assorted coins,
bottle caps and chicken bones,
broken glass and dog food kibble,
pencils, badges, paper clips,
ticket stubs and spoons
everything was piling up inside eternity.
Today he has been contemplating
whether to impale the air
with his toothbrush or a yo-yo;
such decisions are not made in haste.
While he makes no clear connection
between his flying objects, still
he does recall the old eyeglasses
flung the day before
and wonders if they may be linked
to what he flings today.
Such is the accumulated weight of thought and labor
he endures in this odd, ecstatic ritual.
On another note:
Emma Johnson has discovered
her own other-worldly thing,
perhaps God's intervention in her very drab existence
when quite some distant years ago
while seated on her backporch swing,
she noticed items dropped from heaven
into her backyard.
Religiously she collected them,
kept them stored and labeled;
secretly she documented
and cross-referenced everything
in zealous hope to understand the cloudy mystery
of this type of spooky manna, providence and truth.

Copyright (c) 2008 Gary Brown
When thirst and ritual and circumstance collide... where are we?

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