I kill God today,
“Odd”, it said my father,
“You live, but not in the House of Vacations.”
The jungle we can bend
with the credit cards we’ve rented
to make it to L.A.,
the journey to the Capitol
of the Good-life’s consciousness.
To see God bathe
as He who has His form and penis.
The Murderers by His pool!
By His devoted architecture!
“Odd”, it said my mother,
you live but not in my house,
for you, my son, have killed God today.