Prayers in the Time of Unrest

          For Gayatri

Ong bør bøwa søwa
The divine self—to hell with it,
You are bloody adorable—we cannot help but love it,
You illuminate the three worlds
When one is just enough,
I offer my prayers to you
You shine like a fucking sun
You shine on me, over my receding hairline
As if it is some kind of joke. Not!

         For Uncle John

Our father, who fart in heaven and hell
Profanity fills your name,
Come to your kingdom—hell, no
You will be done
Like on earth the Western Asian suicide bombers do
As in with their heaven assured with seventy-two houris,
Give us this day one more reason to ignore you less
And forgive our untouched foreskin
Like the god would have, if he were really there
Lead us not into opium den
Deliver us from the kings and his people
And this forbidden hometown.
Uh! Animals.



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