Without God

Without God
We are inviable,
Despite prosperity
Or poverty,
As in a cockpit
Each auguring in existence
Has it’s play
On the subjective field
Here for the short term
Gone for the long
Invisible to each other’s
Motives, deepened toward
Craved modality
Day to day
As categories
Each to the other unable really
To name oneself because of
That concern for self
As if we were used to be
Hobos crouching under
An overpass in any
Inner city’s out skirted
Center
Boiling cauldrons of indifference
Missing a presence
& seeing only of past presents
& unabashed voiding of bowels
Under bridges of concept & conceit
As 10 ply tires whine on pavement overhead