In my language, the one I recall now only by closing my eyes, the word for love is Yeu.
And the word for weakness is Yếu.
How you say what you mean changes what you say.
Some call this prayer. I call it watch your mouth.

(Ocean Vuong, “Not Even This,” Poetry, April 2020)

God knows. God being, and being God, speaks something and the thing is (or was). It’s begot — by God!

God said light, and Alexander Graham Bell’s mother conceived.

Art is similar. Art says something in its medium — the chosen one — and something’s there.

Whether it’s Velasquez populating a room with his paints, or Cecil Taylor illustrating Eternity with seventeen minutes of his piano, Art is God-light.

Art and God both are light-like, are they not? Faith calls it He. I call it wash your mouth.

(c) 2020 JMN