30 June 2013
25 June 2013
entranced with enough english dovie’s cue ball’ll walk duly to the new striking place and the waiting cue: already scuffed and chaulked and armed with powder blue kisses
19 June 2013
13 June 2013
09 June 2013
Because he might need a Black Toad bottle cap crimped at one hun- dred twenty degrees, he can’t discard it, but keeps one of six Maybe a lady will seek safe passage across frozen tun- dra through a hoard of malevolent Huns and that cap might be the only weapon or useful disguise (you know, used to scratch or worn as a patch) that is small enough to smuggle or that we’re able to hide until we most need it ― as I replay it ― at the last minute So, I can’t blindly just throw it away
04 June 2013
Here’s the bottom line: is your poem of such robust spine and buxom embrace of such tonic balm such bouquet and taste of such sonic boom exquisite menu and coo that it might coax despairing toes off of spotlit ledges or bowed- down heads away from unlit stoves?
02 June 2013
i. BETTER let tomorrow let tomorrow let tomorrow better let it take care let it take care care of itself. Listen little children ― Would I? Would you? Would this one here? Would we pull the covers of tomorrow onto our beds? And then the day after that? and then next week? and next month? All piled up. All at once. ― Y’all go on and talk to me now ― As if we had ’em all. All the linen. All the bedclothes of a five-star hotel. And so piled up ― stacked up ― ceiling- high? Wouldn’t we smother beneath the weight and heat of them – tossing ourselves into our very own fiery furnace. Today is hot enough. Heavy enough. Trouble enough. ii. WE’D be pinned flat down like a butterfly under a stack ― a big stack of flapjacks. That butterfly might melt but it’s not getting much sleep. Y’all hearing me? Be still my soul? I really don’t think so. That’s not stillness of our sweet souls my brothers and sisters. We can be still. We can be still. Because He wasn’t still. Jesus came down. All the way down. Some of you have heard this before. Way down. To Mary’s womb. Hand-him-down swaddling clothes. Pretty flimsy. Like the lily. Y’all got me distracted. So where was I? Be still. Our souls. We might be really still. But really grim. And beaten down. Our typical tossing and turning might stop. That’s for sure. iii. BUT Jesus gives us rest. For the weary. But not pinned down. My Jesus was pinned down. So we don’t need to be pinned down. The biggest deed is done. All the way done. So we can rest. So we can sleep under the light light sheet of just today ― not that weigh-me-down shroud of days and weeks and months and years. There is a seven-star hotel. We need to go sleep there. And you can’t afford it. But it’s all free. All the way paid. Jesus says sleep under His cool covers – It is finished. His pollen soft, but warm. Diaphanous. Lily linen. And ev’ry. Body. Said. Amen. Amen. Sister Betty, come on up and lead us: Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy.
01 June 2013
propping the shovel hoe and rake spooling out twine plunging the stakes kneeling dimpling the harrowed plot thumbing simple tombs in the pocks releasing the pink dusted bombs dozing over dirt with a palm
a display of faith this arming counting on another rising their pearl green necks rolling their respective stones exploding revealing in each yawning seed applaudinga leaf a tongue the dumb report