Against Souls

Trying to revive your soul
You cannot call the cops
And shut down our actions
Because we are primroses growing
In no sun
Just like there are no gods
Other than the wind being around
No good gods come knocking
Asking for toilet paper
To clean a drunken friend’s split head
When the white of rice
Is a sort of snowfall
For our moving out and moving down the street
To the cat farms
When at night
Just like a homemade stained glass window
Through which a priest
Can’t see to our absolution
There is the thought that we are invisible
And though we have no connections
You cannot divide the bread
Because you hate the flour
Sleeping
You have to be as simple as we are