Dear God of Nonexistent Things

You are the god that rules over unicorns, fairies, my literary career, and luck after all. How can I not believe in you?

Dear God of 1984 Monte Carlos

We spoke in tongues. No one taught us sacrament so we invented our own. We ask thee in the name of thy son to bless and sanctify this spit. This sweat.

Dear God of Thrift Stores.

Dear God of Thrift Stores. Holy Handmedown Lord of the Secondhand. I come to you impoverished and ironic to sink my fingers into your junkbins and sift through your innards. I come to you to make wholes out of incompletes, newandimprove a brokedownbeatup, to stitch together echoes. I seek you on red tag days when…