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I understand the situation is not ideal;

we were born human and surely
that's not the best of luck.

We are confused animals,

we eat ourselves
and each other.

We live and die in mundane
and embarrassing ways,

the universe indifferent at best.

Your god does not exist
and I am sorry for you.

Despite all of this,
we are given the ingredients
for joy and love and magic;

they are scattered about the dark
like carnival prizes.

You'll sometimes find me wandering the night
gathering them like stones.

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<a href="/tag/god">god</a>, <a href="/tag/free+verse">free verse</a>, <a href="/tag/stones">stones</a>

About William Taylor Jr


William Taylor Jr. lives in San Francisco. His latest collection of poetry, Broken When We Got Here, was released by Epic Rites Press in 2013. The Blood of a Tourist, a book of new poems is forthcoming from Sunnyoutside Press in November 2014. Right now, he should be sleeping, but isn't.

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Leopold McGinnis    12 months ago
Great! I love this.
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