The Mad Space-Poet Trips Over His Old Theology—Two Poems by J. J. Brinski

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JJ Brinski, aka Joshua Brindle, is a poet and flash-fictioner living in Marquette, MI (in da U.P.) with his wife Grace and four daughters. Having many passions, JJ spends most of his time loving space, sci-fi movies, heavy music, theology, collecting typewriters, riding his bike ridiculous distances, making up words, and playfully arguing about Star Wars. JJ & company have seen the Wienermobile on three separate occasions! Find his poetry and typewriter work on Instagram @jjbrinski.

The Mad Space-Poet Trips Over His Old Theology

Wrong,
well, incomplete.
There goes another one!
Mystery, Planet Earth, and
I’m still learning and 
shedding skin every time
you get your anointing oil 
on me…every time you turn
and the light hits you different,
“infinitely knowable” as one 
wise man said, with the thrill
of you in the morphology, the 
shift, “the going on ahead and 
appearing strange” as my old
buddy Oswald said. 
We want more of you 
as long as
the stretching of our minds 
doesn’t cause a headache,
as long as
our hearts feel like 
they can hold 
the transcendent tonnage
well and good.
We don’t want you 
to be as big and as
heavy as you are,
always flipping our lids
with that signature,
juxtaposing gentleness,
a kindness that rests a 
hand on our demon-possessed
valleys, wipes our leprosy clean,
makes no faces at our 
nakedness.

Maybe we ask you to stay your 
hand because an “old god 
tucked away” is more manageable 
then a wild fire-lion with no 
earthly cage, spitting light and
life all over, treading pitch-black
terror underfoot, making 
breakfast by our lakes, 
whispering our full names.

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.this machine. (on the typewriter)

This machine
spits out poetry,
pain and elation,
grief-ripples
and love.
The black ink
for praise.
The red ink 
for blood.

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Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash