JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

I want to belong to a home-made synagogue

travel the world with a portable god

he could be called whisper, wonder or thingabob

and no one would think it the slightest bid odd

 

We’d converse in a language that we alone use

once reserved for the birds or the whales or the muse

and we’d laugh at the Christians, the Moslems, the Jews

with their old fashioned prayers and their temples with pews

 

He’d call me JJ and I’d call him GG

and we’d carve our initials on every which tree

and watch how the trunks ooze with sweet smelling sap

which means JJ and GG are really nice chaps

 

And if you think I’m a heathen or mad as a hatter

I’d reply that it’s really my personal matter