​Piles of bloody, dying bodies –
Women, men, little babies –
Pierced by bullets,
Ripped apart by exploding bombs.
Such an exquisite sight;
Such delicate beauty.
To touch that warm blood,
To feel it between my fingers,
To taste it on my tongue –
The delight is . . .
Inexpressible:
I am in ecstasy!
Gliding through the astral plane
With the beings of light
That have visited me and taught me
While in my vile, disgusting flesh.
I am special, they tell me,
I am chosen.
I will recreate the world
In my own image,
And none can hinder me.
I am invincible,
Unstoppable,
Indispensable.
My truth is deceit,
My light is darkness,
My love is hatred.
My closest friends
I make my enemies.
I am the only blessing
Upon the face of the earth.


I am an American.

Many times I have longed to cultivate the earth,
To dig the rows and plant the seed, and watch them
Grow and grow. But Christ our God bid me take another task,
To make the furrows in my mind, and place in them
Idea-seeds, fertilizing them with reading and asceticism
Till they beget the fruit of a written work – an essay, story, poem.
And though meagre, like sheaves of wheat grown during drought,
I offer them to those who will accept them, to the Glory of God.