..

For Mao, On his Birthday

And there, in the dementiatic years of the 19th century

The faintest natal nascence of

the second kingdom was born

in the middle of the middle.

Poor Hong Xiuquan smiled

in his tomb

(of which there was none.

More like ashes

Dispirate, stirring).

God is funny like that,

to send his direct message through failure

to beget another,

indeed more confused,

and yet,

in contradiction, closer to enacting the truth.

Who are the “Jews” anyway?

Just by reading the newspapers

I can tell you who is chosen.

Perhaps 1966 was closer to 0

than anything else.

And 2050 will be like 33.

Whencefrom already mists the yakubian acid rain.

And the white devils are so myopically focused

on trading one umbrella for another,

they can’t even see the distant red star.

Admittedly faint, it shines brighter now

than did 100 years ago.

The way to know?

The learned astronomer can’t

(won’t?) see it.

Even if one were to frantically search

through the peer reviewed,

one wouldn’t find it.

Neither would I, though I do know where to look.

Rather, I feel it

as Christ’s radiant smile.

And so I leave the dome for

the lecture hall,

snickering.