Last Updated On November 30, 2020

 

a gift for the last of November

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Skipping to god’s house
To fetch some poet-tree
God isn’t a proper noun because
Sometimes god is improper as a function
Of being all things.

God is in the details as well.
Also in the main idea,
And in the grease stain
Marring your page.

God laughs their ass off at the gender binary.

God smiles from cerulean miracle skies
Big November baby blues.
They ripen my shoulder with the sun’s reckless flirting
Between rik rak branches feathered with rippling fringe
And dripping with ruby fruit.
November shakes her hair loose and
Experiments with her hips,
Rustling is everywhere!

God is in the oak
That didn’t get the memo.
Scoop me up in your golden boughs and carry me home.

 

Last Updated On November 30, 2020

 

a gift for the last of November

 

Skipping to god’s house
To fetch some poet-tree
God isn’t a proper noun because
Sometimes god is improper as a function
Of being all things.

God is in the details as well.
Also in the main idea,
And in the grease stain
Marring your page.

God laughs their ass off at the gender binary.

God smiles from cerulean miracle skies
Big November baby blues.
They ripen my shoulder with the sun’s reckless flirting
Between rik rak branches feathered with rippling fringe
And dripping with ruby fruit.
November shakes her hair loose and
Experiments with her hips,
Rustling is everywhere!

God is in the oak
That didn’t get the memo.
Scoop me up in your golden boughs and carry me home.

Last Updated On November 30, 2020

a gift for the last of November

Skipping to god’s house
To fetch some poet-tree
God isn’t a proper noun because
Sometimes god is improper as a function
Of being all things.

God is in the details as well.
Also in the main idea,
And in the grease stain
Marring your page.

God laughs their ass off at the gender binary.

God smiles from cerulean miracle skies
Big November baby blues.
They ripen my shoulder with the sun’s reckless flirting
Between rik rak branches feathered with rippling fringe
And dripping with ruby fruit.
November shakes her hair loose and
Experiments with her hips,
Rustling is everywhere!

God is in the oak
That didn’t get the memo.
Scoop me up in your golden boughs and carry me home.