Jesus came back…

only briefly (and not to take the righteous)

he came to announce a hotline.


People wanted a more direct connection,

people wanted a way to get support,

and people wanted to hear His voice in times of duress.


The hold music was terrible

Christian Rock—and not the good kind—

turns out angels are much better with harps.


You often got disconnected and would have to call back,

and the dial by name extensions was crazy:

you have to go thru about a million saints before you realize


God is *, of course.


And God, he was never in…or busy…and he’d send you

straight to voicemail

and the voicemail box…it was full.

And so folks stopped calling,

went back to church on Sunday,

went back to praying an singing.


Apparently, it was Jesus’ idea the whole time

so he came back again;

appeared in a Denny’s (he wanted to seem approachable).


The cameras were on and everyone had a million questions

he raised his hands and the world listened carefully

“How do y’all feel about Twitter?”



Nighttime Chimes

My tablet dings when it brings

news of things

news of a world of human beings:


12 dead — shot in a preschool

A car bomb kills seven in Pakistan 

A woman’s been abducted in Austin


My grandma—she’s all about that ‘Puter—and now,

at 86, the filters are off and forwards come flying


Hillary Clinton – Exposed!

Obama’s Real Birth Certificate

Seven Pictures of Adorable Baby Animals


Meanwhile, the apps I’ve forgotten about

beg me to come back


General, your army needs you—free coins available now!

Your house value has increased!  Login to see how much you’re worth.

You have a new LinkedIn connection—check out Heather’s profile!


So much stuff under glass

happening in a flash—a whir—a millisecond

Meanwhile I lie still waiting for the next faithful chime




Then the night is done—I missed my REM

I forgot to dream

A world of chemicals and emotions and distant memories

This world without glass—it will never be


If only I’d been reminded—

if only there’d been a notification


I love to hand wash dishes as my dishwasher

churns beside me.  The bubbles between my fingers,

grit beneath my nails; and the dishwasher blasting away

grease and crusties; we are unified in our efforts.


Similar too is that feeling of driving somewhere far away:

The GPS on my phone silently showing the way,

my car charging underneath me, a soft stallion,

and I at the wheel guiding the whole adventure.


These moments of unity—where flesh and metal,

neurons and transistors come together—remind me when man

domesticated animals, that moment caveman and ox first

looked at each other, nodded, and carried on with mutual survival.




That hot Californian model

curvy in all the right places

slender and sleek, flowing without edges

cool beneath my fingertip…


How I like to press her buttons,

swipe right slooooowly,

click her vibration motor on…off…on…off,

whisper into her receiver.


We met a year ago,

but now there’s another—

I never thought anything could be so beautiful:

passion has a retina display.


Now you, year old lady

of metal, glass, and electricity—

though you plead me in your soft monotone voice—

you’re vintage, a trade-in.


Don’t worry, you’ll be

disassembled, melted down,

recycled, and then someday we’ll be together once more

to dance the techno tango again.