Spotlight: Incantation for the God Gene
Cast away the coins
closing your lids.
Roll off the stones
weighing your limbs.
This is what we know:
Every Good Book
when in doubt
is named again.
We inherit the sins
of our glossolalia,
secreting the Divine like sex.
The seat of the soul
is in the genitals,
the road to Mecca,
Jerusalem, Damascus
a network of nerves
like so many places
to get lost, a corn maze
with only one true center.
Fire the pathways
of hymns and prayers.
It is not the hand
that inscribes that turns
the snake to serpent.