We saw God sleeping on the layers of time,
In a stone dead sleep, till priest would come.
God was stone sleeping in a mirror of sleep.
God was monkey amid stones, a painted hill,
A hill boulder’s red ache dripping with paint
And our foreheads would drip with red dots.
Our bodies went stone with souls petrified.
All things were in big boulders in hills where
God sleeps sleep missing in tired old bodies.