Jesus trained a dolphin to swim up under him and lift him over the waves.
Jesus wanted to show everyone his trick.
It looked like he was walking on top of the water.
Really, he was establishing the dominion of man.
I know this; I have Calvinist ancestry.
They sold their tickets for the Titanic when they caught wind of blasphemy:
God can't sink this ship.
But God is ice.
He gashed that boat just to watch all the sinners freeze.
Jesus came splashing by on his jolly old dolphin, cackling:
You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt has lost the taste of salt, wherewith shall it be salted?
His echo was a frigid mist.
My people were ashore, safe in a manfishing net.
We didn't need to see Jesus' trick.
We knew disaster enables miracle.
We knew man is nothing but
salt and wounds, dressed up
in flowing white hubris.
This I Know
Jesus was a sip of lemonade
Jesus was a white robe with holes cut out for nipple breaths
Jesus was a porcupine cage
Jesus was a spark, a glinting olive spark
Jesus was a clumsy limo stretching round the corner and bumping into a hot dog stand, splattering the street with oozy yellow mustard and that was the day all the rats decided to be New Yorkers
Jesus was a cool dude sometimes
Jesus was a reindeer most days
Jesus was a clarinet with tapioca pearls tucked in the mouthpiece always pinging fancy ladies in the eyeballs when you blew it
Jesus was a wisp of steam banging inside the radiator like a ghost drunk blind on his own tears
Jesus was an ice cube rubbing up against another ice cube
Jesus was a brain sniffing a brain, a pillow smothering a pillow
Jesus was a chair you sat in and got a splinter from then it collapsed under your weight so the shards of his legs gave you more splinters until you and Jesus were nothing but a tangled wrestling orb of splinters
Jesus was a pause in several promising conversations
Jesus was a flock. A flock of nothing, just a flock
Jesus was a gluttonous tarantula always devouring the beetles and flies till he got too fat to hang from the strands of his own web so he was forever plummeting on people's faces and shouting, “Look, it's me, Jesus, the world's fattest tarantula!” It was considered rude to point out he was also quite hairy
Jesus was a lingering fear of onions
Jesus was a lonesome orchid's iridescent tears
Jesus was a taxidermied alligator missing all its teeth and therefore scared no one
Jesus was a grievance with a blind cockatoo
Jesus was a bone in the small of your back, the one that ached whenever you
said goddammit, or did you say goddammit because it ached?
Jesus was a spatula, a naughty elegant spatula
Jesus was a tongue depressor, not a popsicle
Jesus was a tugboat in the Mongolian Navy
Jesus was a turkey wing, flapping
Jesus was a hang-glider, drowning
Jesus was a window. Not the kind you look through or jump through or even get the breeze out of, just a cosmetic opaque shut window
Jesus was a finger snapping as you spoke
Jesus was an unlicked spoon
Jesus was a halo on his own head which he pretended he couldn't take off and didn't even know was there
Jesus was a buzzcut on an inferior grandma
Jesus was everybody's best friend until the waitress came with the bill
Jesus was a hell of a guy anyways, because if you ever had to move he'd bring his donkey out of retirement, strap all your possessions to that donkey's aching back, who'd haul them up however many flights of stairs you'd chosen to live on top of, wheezing all the way with his donkey buckteeth
Jesus wasn't an extraterrestrial, he just liked to slurp radioactive fluid out of
a steamy goblet with a neon green straw
Jesus was a better place, all petunias and handkerchiefs
Jesus was a single, unboiled macaroni
Jesus was my childhood Slinky, helical and tanglesome, must be why I love