A cobweb shining between the table
and the chair in the morning
My dream last night said
God is a girl dancing
God is a horse in the city
I don't want to write about my family
The stories repulse me from every angle
My little sister is disappointed
that my teddy bear doesn't have more to say
But he and I have an understanding beyond language
We want silence
Daydreams and private thoughts
I tell her Yellow Bear is a zen master
As the passenger in a fast car
I imagine laying my eye against the metal freeway partition
Laying the inside of my wrist on it
Delicately, to slice
To distract from the slicing
I look for God in the olive trees
Animated by our speeding past
Olive trees older than Christ
Grown split and twisting
Growing into powerful witches
Into shadowy Gothic doorways of churches
Into the perfect houses for a spirit
To settle down and dwell in
Maybe that's what Ikkyu's temple is like
Jesus didn't have to say
God is an olive tree
maybe he did, I wouldn't know
But the people who planted the olive trees BC
were probably doing fine without Him
