Occam’s Prayer


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Deities dismissed;
preferring the clean flick
 

of the blade when the sky
grinds black pepper specks.
 

Plates shunt and shift;
King James finds us on our knees,
 

clinging grist-like to the mill,
bending the benediction.
 
 

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Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

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