ROUGH GODS by Stephen Jenkinson and Gregory Hoskins

Stranger days? They are.
We're sending a dispatch from the front line of a struggle undeclared.
The forces of occupation are unmoved by love letters. It's been too long for them.
So we’ve sent one over the barricade.
Spectacle, no. Testament, no. But testimony, and a steady witness to the faithless tangle of unmasked, ordinary love.
Tied to the clawfoot of the last remaining crow, we've thrown one to the winds.
This is it.

Write 'God' on a piece of paper. The strange days of belief ensue. Add an 's'. Disbelief ripples and stirs. Somewhere between is this time we're born to.
Include the God who's sure of his onlyness.
Then the pantheon is whole.
Homeless Gods believe in us. It's hard to tell if that's wise.
Gods of Chance are a good bet.
Gods of Death mean you no harm. They mean you, though.
Gods of Wild Places scare most of us back home.
That's their work. Ours is to take the hint.
Revelator Gods: Now you see. Now you don't.
Rough Gods have dirt and grief and time on their hands. With them they mutter and make our days.
This record was conjured and cast down in spring, 2020. It belongs to the young of this century. Let them decide if it belongs among them.

gregoryhoskins.com