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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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AN UNSEEN SUBSTANCE
Anthony Gee
And if you had
faith the size of a mustard seed,
you could command
a mountain into the ocean.
I am convinced
of my discrepancies
and all else
requires an
incredible effort.
The more I dredge
this ocean where a mountain
should be drowned,
the harder it is to fathom:
here I am with
faith the size of a
bowling ball and
my lips unable
to work.
In matters of depth
and distance, in
measures of dimensions that
tick and tock and
conform to rule,
I have a song and
a prayer and
desires, all of them
twisting like hoses
unheld, I have
crossed all my wires and now
there’s no single signal
there’s no next minute.
My fingers are not digits.
My prayers are sneezes
muffled in my hands,
if I could touch heaven
I’d leave them there.