Bleak Theology A post-punk counterweight to joy.



I once fed the Holy Spirit.
She was a flock of pigeons
pecking by the bench in a Brooklyn park.

I threw her bread crumbs,
bits of the Body that was given for you.
She ate the bread hungrily,
a kind of omophagia in action.

It was a Trinitarian action, too – almost.
Two thirds of a triangle, aside, a god missing
two angles absent,
but that is how theology works (the negative kind)

So, when the dovish Paraclete eats
the offered Son in the midst 
of an absent God, what is this?

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By Burke
Bleak Theology A post-punk counterweight to joy.


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