I recently recorded this fine poem by Tess Kincaid.

I’m impatient with religion
because when you mix in
just enough obsessive
Tabasco compulsive
it cooks up monsters
gods and terrible animals
that hit you broadside
like flying elephants.

Covered by the blood(y) Mary
in a massive state of grace
I learned early on
to play red light/green light
by carefully ticking
all the appropriate boxes
in the meteor shower
of pachyderm particles.

But now and then
I feel bad about the pennies
I’ve sucked from the sofa
with the vacuum.

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