shallow streams of consciousness
lap against ankles dangled
from piers of perception
fed by pools of thought which
shimmer briefly- scrutinized
dissipating under x-ray glares
aquatic remembrances writhe
in charred baked beds of
revocations
and in the end your throat
burns and we're all sick
of water.
Having spent the last few days in a state of overwhelming confusion and ambivalence over the question of God\'s existence, 10 year-old Robert Berry decided to remove all doubt, once and for all. One Tuesday night, Robert unplugged his alarm, drew his blinds, and rationalized that, if God truly was, He would see fit to wake Robert at his usual rising-time, 8:00 A.M. This assertion placed firmly in mind, he climbed into bed, clicked off his lamp, and went about falling asleep.
The following morning, young Robert\'s eyes fluttered open, just in time to see the first number on his digital clock gain the appropriate amount of segments, transformi