Wink, wink me to sleep. Uncle Fester
has a killerhertz bulb crunched in his scandal mouth
        he's dreaming electrons & microwavable French fries.
             At night, I can hear
       the Universe clawing through the anglepoise:
          a scuttle of fat scarab beetles
         or a stampede of angels in dumb euphony.
                 Tomorrow when I wake

                            I will be God.

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