deus ex duo

i. deus ex machina

the deus ex machina falls through the trapdoor into the charnel house

the deus dramatic effect lost and centrifugal with a caravaggio thud

see deus roll among the sweet vinegar panhandlers

watch deus finish the hand cream to douse the smell of blood

deus in a goddard film works the chiaoscuro / a tenebrism / petrichor

deus in bombogenesis full of piss and vinegar spews

deus scumbles the rain-doused pines works the blur

deus in a peppery flourish works against the wet season cold

deus caught in the armature of the machina / ex-officio works union scale

deus doused in dim-light garlic butter reduction topped with sea salt

deus!
dreary dubious dulcet dungeonal!

deus escaped mental patient waxing ontological on black stone paths

deus relents / off stage / orders the curtain fall

deus in the jug and the red of the grapes

ii. deus ex machina pt. 2

deus in the wings, taking hits off the fog machine, directs with shakespearean aplomb

deus as the hole in the sole of your quotidian shoes in the gutter beat

deus as the syncopation of your soul in 5/4 time—a blue beat among blue notes

deus as the sun ra arkestra in hyperdrive singing “nuclear war,” it’s a motherfucker, don’t you know

deus as the writing blister on your finger— the sweetest pain you know

deus as stan brakhage bubblegum—you chew chew chew ‘til your teeth go numb

deus as the usher who stepped away from lincoln’s box at ford’s theater

deus as the antediluvian methane seeping out of thawing permafrost

deus as another opportunity missed—exchanging sharp words with the stage manager

deus as your ill-lighted and out of focus photograph

deus snickering at his blackout jape—power cable in hand next to the light board

deus closing up shop and hanging his sign—away on holiday

What I’m Reading:

. . . still, just about every memory somehow takes me back to something I don’t much want to think about . . .

— Lucy Ellmann / Ducks, Newburyport