One Manual for History as a synonym for God

To imagine history as a synonym for god:
Start by singing the mi'sheiberah on loop for your partner's Catholic mother
you say: you tell her I'm praying, ok?
he doesn't believe in it,
but then reveals that she's asked.

the debbie friedman version, preferably,
as in your housemate's chuckling suggestion,
as in the live concert clips with guitar strumming,
and the streamable cantor-in-training mp3's:
may the source of strength that blessed the ones before us
help us find the courage to make our lives a blessing.

Unearth here.

your friends look at you sideways, but
Disregard "blessing" (for now, at least)
and the parameters you've set on what is relevant to trust

It's dusty but, 
beneath assimilation and your ancestors self hatred,
it starts to look clear.

I've got no illusion of newness, it's just-
These days, I'll blame capitalism whenever I can.
The constant present accelerating as it is
the climate warming as it is
and the vacuum of palatable words for ideas with meaning
me on my bed with youtube
G G Em Em C C D
and let us say, Amen.

Italian wisdom

The marinara is separate from the meat sauce

No garlic and toss the onion out

No, Granny dices up the onion

Sauté until clear 

throw it away 

Now you're ready to begin

The workshop

Several high nude figures
On the ground,
unaware
This is what snakes do

The whole one,
not in attendance
A smile that begins down there
And wells upwards

Later,
Beethoven's 7th blasting in a basement
The World, The Devil
 in the key of A-natural

And Jacob's ladder,
Ivory tower-
All that.

Business Partner

You and me, my my,

we snap together like magnets,

we sang together like luscious, 

like Silent Night, like holy cow.

You, like, like me, 

you like me, you're like me,

little soft thing, little smarts,

little woman, how'd it happen?

So sorry baby I feel unsafe still, my looks chill,

as a little bird cocks its neck

before an open hand, humped up 

with good food, and no offense,

it's an instinct thing, it's that my body

shrills that you strangled my mother! 

and shot my father to death! and 

plucked up my brother and ate him in joy!

yet you open up your hand 

all humped up with food.

I want to thrust my beak in,

but the body, the body terror of it all. 

the sound of fireworks

home body
send texts
a bear in winter

focus without expectation
abandon problem solving
for some hours and being be

read wittgenstein
read nietzsche
read bersani

hibernate the whole year

wht trust tryst

just the sound of fireworks makes me grin