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Thomas Farrington

October 2010

TO THE INVISIBLE GOD

poems by

Thomas Farrington

© 2010; all rights reserved

for

The Future King of the World

“For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription,

TO THE UNKNOWN GOD. Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you.”

Acts of the Apostles, 17:33

PROLOGUE

At last Zeus cele-

brates Christmas. He

Gets baked, forgets

Ganymede, cheap,

Cheap, cheap whooore,

Focus pointed, at last,

On you, the true one,

Ruemaker, design of

Straight edges with ogee,

Oh gee, Zeus, no more

Bolts? Jolting to know

You went the other

Way. Say, god, any

Side effects? Inheir-

itance? Honcho cred?

Something? I mean,

God, you conned me,

Knew you did and gig-

gled.

I

I imagine it’s an imagined

Thing, a take on something

Palpable, ordinarily, but in

Your mind, prelapsarian, gor-

geous, erect, it morphs to

Wonder what next. Hexed?

No. Vexed? Seldom. Text

Message me non-electronically,

Like the Druids did. Do the thing

Metempsychotically, faery, like

Keats liked it. But have merci.

II

When you manifest, it is agape.

The jaw line drops on its hinges,

Your breath bathes the beauty

You never knew, but is you, out-

right, heaving back at you blows,

Stuns, quivers filled with points

Previously unknown, less latent,

Since you choose now to dwell among

Us, plastic, concrete, fleeting,

Fleeing purity for precise mortality.

Your eyes, or the effect of them, the idea

Of your eyes transcolors as you gaze, gawk

And see in the form the form you

Form from your eternity. Here, among us.

III

Vanishéd. Disparu. Deprived

Your nectar but for a nonce,

No heady worship, no slumming,

Less shimmering – Whither, god-

head? Thebes was not so ravished

When Apollo taunted the club foot

King. Troy’s horse was a hobby,

Boy god man king nurse of our

Burgeon, still virgin to blight,

So soon? Dissemble no more.

Be adored in any guise, but stay

Absence. Stay here. Absinthe!

I will smuggle absinthe, cheap

Whores, junk food. What is

Your will? I will fulfill it.

I will die for you if you will live.

It’s what we do when gods like

You tease us out of complacency.

IV

You are the only thing

I won’t ever talk about

Aloud. You can’t be sound-

ed; your deep is immune

, dismayed at the slightest

Slip, supine at first assault.

Carnival low-life! Triple

Trick Maker, Maven of Madness, oh!

Dionysus, or very like him,

Or an effigy, or a joke – best

Sustain the tone. Done? Hap-

py? It that’s what suits, so be it.

V

The slightest hint of flesh

Before the glance of the arm

Takes stance, brief stasis,

Long stretch of brown ex-

posure, brawn made clear,

If fleet – why not? You dither,

Divulge, no disgrace, a

Certain sweat that’s not

Quite human, moist resi-

due of god glands, glad hand

Greeting, sated, again, gain-

ing ground midst quo-

tidian display. My god, my god,

Why have you thus shaken me?

VI

Watch. You pop a piece

Of popcorn packing, worth

Recycling, bubble wrap

Writ large. Your fingers,

Shaking like the locks of Zeus,

Prodding pressure to its oozing

Point. You, with your hands

Hardened by lifting the new

Flesh up again and again

And again, dare I say it

Again? Divine prehensility,

Opposable thumbability, you

Look quaint in our weeds,

Wonder at our woebegone

Echo of you. Euphoric

Rusticity, ill-matched

To origin, falling off

The spring of you, to new again.

VII

They are talking to us.

Insisting themselves. In

Droves of prophecy, shoot-

ing scars, lithe taunts,

Torrents of certainty. Grab

The omens by the forelock,

Force feed enfleshment. No

Rude beasts need apply.

VIII

I am living Bernini

With you. Marble

Clouds, lost senses,

Hints. Hoisted, church

Bound, the stasis before

The cumshot. That angel,

By the way, is pretty gay

If you look at him per-

spectively. What’s with

The veil? Stone veils seem

Pretty, stupid, except for

Embers. I used to think

This beef smoke to Zeus

Bit was excessive. Now

I think it’s not enough.

At least they got to party

After.

IX

Worship is simply re-

cognition. Who says you can’t pull

All nighters? Pass out the visions

Now. One per person. Loaves,

Fishes, Cyclops – or is it

Cyclopses? – they come

Later but they come. You

Need to get some time here.

Flights accomplish things, slights

Belie your dignity. Love comes

Later. What do you expect?

Gratitude? But it comes.

X

You will be interviewed.

Incarnation, like UFO’s,

Really bothers some

People. It’s this

God/flesh fully

Stuff that blows

Them, against their

Will, slowly and with

A camera and maid’s

Outfit that don’t

Fit but exposes

The tits nicely.

Greek? Spic? Dick

Head? What deity

Are you anyway? I

Need to know what

To wear.

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