The Good Lord Bird knows God. The Good Lord Bird visited God in a couple different Catholic churches in Washington D.C. Not to say that God has a preference, I suppose, for Catholics or their ornate churches, but He was surely there. The Pope was there, too, and he encouraged me to bring home the Catholic newsletter. The Good Lord Bird read it and then threw it in the trash.

Shoddy rooftops amidst the hurricanes
I venture to ask, ‘Who built these paper cities,
Made of sheet rock and cardboard, and why
Are people living here on Earth, at all?’
Charlatans on Mars, eating shit bricks.
Clouds on Venus, cops on Ceres. Maelstroms
Growing larger every year, and I
Smoking no tobacco and drinking no beer
Loom openly in the third room of the estate,
Menacing in my bloom, dead in the water.