The Promised Land

Was Abraham’s promised land, overflowing of honey and milk, as your hips, your breasts? Are you darling, the promised land?
Are your eyes the ever-flowing youth Are your kisses the first miracle He made? I’m drunk, I’m drunk: Are you darling, the promised land?
How many of these countries are mine, Lord? Is this Egypt’s or the Mennonite’s? You told me to march, and so I did. I like being a vagabond, my Lord.
I should not blame you, yes, I know, You are the creator of this all: me, creature, temptation, tempter. Oh, thank you, Lord, for all, temptation and all.
Let the water flow, and turn to wine, from your lips, let it run. Let us turn to water, turn to wine. And feast. Aren’t we all the promised land?
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