tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91759503982860311092024-03-13T02:07:21.129-04:00The Six Day RaceB.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.comBlogger300125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-88640452133633964572015-09-05T08:29:00.000-04:002015-09-05T08:29:25.196-04:00Dog's Paw<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 13pt; line-height:115%;">
dog's paw </br>
distinct from star </br>
but not by far </br>
nor by darkness </br>
but by spark </br>
by maker's mark </br>
by carpenter's scar </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-12256165947103721072013-12-31T23:51:00.000-05:002014-01-01T09:35:03.732-05:00After Advent<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
we would have struck </br>
a match if we had had </br>
a match and if we had had </br>
a place to strike it </br>
</br>
but there was no place </br>
just as there was no place </br>
in the infamous inn </br>
but there were milky moonlets </br>
</br>
in the frozen hoof </br>
prints and in the frozen paw </br>
prints: some crazy moulage </br>
from some crazier crime </br>
</br>
a rustling maybe </br>
where little lambs bowed </br>
down and doggies bowed, </br>
wowed. </br>
</span>B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-20818219406107178362013-10-31T22:01:00.000-04:002013-10-31T22:02:36.678-04:00Dream of the Rood
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/nozNtHQYtaQ" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
</br></br>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
I had a dream, I had a dream </br>
I had a dream he climbed on me </br>
The carpenter's son, he climbed on me </br>
</br>
He had a dream, he had a dream </br>
The angel said you better take Mary </br>
That Joseph man, he had a dream </br>
</br>
She had a dream, o, she had a dream </br>
Sweet little Mary, o, she had a dream </br>
She dreamed you'd climb on me </br>
</br>
I had a dream, I had a dream </br>
I had a dream, I had a dream </br>
They cut me down and you climbed on me </br>
</br>
<i>outro</i></br>
I had a dream, I had dream </br>
I had a dream he climbed on me </br>
They cut me down and they </br>
They cut me down and then </br>
They cut me down and you climbed on me </br>
</span>B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-51728068174101276732013-09-11T19:11:00.000-04:002013-09-11T19:11:00.198-04:00Cigarette<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/L12ZJGSL_YI" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
</br></br>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
The cigarette of my wasted life </br>
burning down burning down burning down </br>
At your lips at your pretty lips </br>
flicked away flicked away flicked away now </br>
</br>
The cigarette of my wasted life </br>
bad for you bad for you bad for me </br>
The cigarette of my wasted life </br>
burning down burning down burning down </br>
</br>
Memory memory memory </br>
long long gone - gone - gone gone gone </br>
Just a smoldering wick right now </br>
till the LORD takes me to His mouth </br>
</br>
The cigarette of my wasted life </br>
burning down burning down burning down </br>
At your lips at your pretty lips </br>
flicked away flicked away flicked away now </br>
burning down burning down burning down </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-35656956241775705222013-08-31T23:59:00.000-04:002013-09-01T00:04:26.159-04:00Song: Enoch<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqYiwShNHQfciV9rHHwWEzzz2J1ALOODvZKBjeAE6I8OdGrGkwCm6C-4b8UtsKFa37KKPkRBDNrMiAz6OAzU8rGn-QkLAiQYyvCpzDZ1-gW2Q2giFV-3rrcYTPSBwt5_xLkq7x0wHCg/s1600/Ice+Cream+Truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: top; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFqYiwShNHQfciV9rHHwWEzzz2J1ALOODvZKBjeAE6I8OdGrGkwCm6C-4b8UtsKFa37KKPkRBDNrMiAz6OAzU8rGn-QkLAiQYyvCpzDZ1-gW2Q2giFV-3rrcYTPSBwt5_xLkq7x0wHCg/s320/Ice+Cream+Truck.jpg" /></a></div>
</br>
Enoch walked, we're told, with God </br>
for 300 years </br>
I can't walk with God </br>
for 300 seconds </br>
</br>
Enoch walked, we're told, with God </br>
for 300 years </br>
I'm always straying away </br>
into the weeds </br>
</br>
Take me to that place </br>
where seek is find </br>
Take me to that place </br>
where knock is open wide </br>
</br>
Take me to that place </br>
where seek is find </br>
where weak is strong </br>
where you're really mine </br>
</br>
<i>Blues in F</i>
</span>B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-73944741493137603212013-07-17T22:04:00.000-04:002013-07-17T22:04:24.009-04:00Curfew
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3lHYmNd8c7hZsyAmhPMoZf0YSJm5niHWvx9GFlI-2Hie0rHThHBgNfqKH0AuRfAFhfqnY0n6YOZT6vNTZEBbafxnrFcGUjqOMyo_gPejuE9kYkOO-tPMmitS55NpPMzvZ1MKoklQhQ/s1600/Fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK3lHYmNd8c7hZsyAmhPMoZf0YSJm5niHWvx9GFlI-2Hie0rHThHBgNfqKH0AuRfAFhfqnY0n6YOZT6vNTZEBbafxnrFcGUjqOMyo_gPejuE9kYkOO-tPMmitS55NpPMzvZ1MKoklQhQ/s440/Fox.jpg" /></a>
</br>
some of us </br>
will leave our lanes </br>
</br>
to cover </br>
this fire to crush </br>
</br>
this haughty </br>
flame yet once </br>
</br>
again: a furnace </br>
that still burns </br>
</br>
us with its </br>
pretty <i>look </br>
</br>
daddy</i> fur </br>
and severed </br>
</br>
paws pouring forth </br>
beauty like heaped- </br>
</br>
up coals on our </br>
ugly heads </br>
</br>
and haunting </br>
our slinking off </br>
</br>
to our </br>
abednego beds </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-5778797051266478662013-07-07T20:33:00.000-04:002013-07-07T20:33:22.519-04:00if my heart<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpvVZePK1li8KPWyQIUysfySLK8KVyz1VR60Tpdoh2C4kqjeOuIyBE3G6CKWMWIvAzhP9SlQ9aAZhmWNeqBjPrWHKPy8orZCPfZ6_XqnTdFCJ-bEEyzFPavBeUVfCrTTYVBcq6mSUrg/s1600/Frances.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpvVZePK1li8KPWyQIUysfySLK8KVyz1VR60Tpdoh2C4kqjeOuIyBE3G6CKWMWIvAzhP9SlQ9aAZhmWNeqBjPrWHKPy8orZCPfZ6_XqnTdFCJ-bEEyzFPavBeUVfCrTTYVBcq6mSUrg/s420/Frances.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
if my heart were a beam </br>
in abandoned barn </br>
</br>
and if there were a loft </br>
with standable floor </br>
</br>
there’d be ― trust me ― patient </br>
bees boring perfect </br>
</br>
holes snowing powdered </br>
sugar on the boards </br>
</br>
below
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-11222912138407010102013-06-30T23:55:00.000-04:002013-06-30T23:55:08.793-04:00Aliens Among Us
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIG98GWYRCmQ7m-v5GVrbhBo2swh27zaI_NXaKPpseSdwB83iq8DAuT86pPiqGuEIdr0ek0SUHFVouRNroGrkQs4dkHKm2F9NEkPNUKyM_XCyx_vq6h2JwbpK6b5UWupFVs70f2cCY8g/s1080/Bird+Egg.jpg" imageanchor="1">
<img border="0" height="320" width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIG98GWYRCmQ7m-v5GVrbhBo2swh27zaI_NXaKPpseSdwB83iq8DAuT86pPiqGuEIdr0ek0SUHFVouRNroGrkQs4dkHKm2F9NEkPNUKyM_XCyx_vq6h2JwbpK6b5UWupFVs70f2cCY8g/s1080/Bird+Egg.jpg" /></a>
</br>
no need </br>
to reach </br>
</br>
some far- </br>
flung star </br>
</br>
to see </br>
the sites </br>
</br>
on venus </br>
or mars </br>
</br>
to un- </br>
maybe </br>
</br>
the mights </br>
to dis- </br>
</br>
cover </br>
the heights </br>
</br>
to seize </br>
the halos </br>
</br>
of un- </br>
manned flight </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-75970690330890001422013-06-25T23:54:00.001-04:002013-06-25T23:54:53.559-04:00we just call ’im dovie ’cause he bristles at lovie<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
entranced with enough </br>
english </br>
dovie’s cue ball’ll walk </br>
</br>
duly to the new </br>
striking </br>
place and the waiting </br>
</br>
cue: already scuffed </br>
and chaulked </br>
and armed with powder </br>
</br>
blue kisses
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-52496029978530048282013-06-19T22:27:00.000-04:002013-06-20T11:18:38.876-04:00Volatile Bob
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
My heart is </br>
pure ― rubbing </br>
</br>
alcohol </br>
better keep </br>
</br>
dragging those </br>
grounding chains </br>
</br>
My head is </br>
<i>Everclear</i> </br>
</br>
nearly two-hundred proof </br>
better stop </br>
</br>
playing with </br>
those matches </br>
</br>
My hurt is </br>
nitro ― so </br>
</br>
better not </br>
bump me so </br>
</br>
hard with that </br>
dreamt about body body body </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-16353922863388391622013-06-13T20:44:00.000-04:002013-06-13T20:44:59.499-04:00Three Things
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
There are three </br>
sleeps that can </br>
stop our mouths </br>
their speaking: </br>
</br>
the Big Sleep </br>
(which plugs all </br>
things), the Nighty- </br>
Night (if night- </br>
</br>
mare free), </br>
and the Sleep </br>
of Kiss (which </br>
bungs our tongues, </br>
</br>
possums our </br>
peepers, and </br>
relegates our </br>
breathing).
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-60218370014652329072013-06-09T14:41:00.000-04:002013-06-09T14:41:01.923-04:00OneMan’s Pack Rat is another OldLady’s Boy Scout<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
Because he might need </br>
a Black Toad bottle </br>
cap crimped at one hun- </br>
dred twenty degrees, </br>
he can’t discard it, </br>
but keeps one of six </br>
</br>
Maybe a lady </br>
will seek safe passage </br>
across frozen tun- </br>
dra through a hoard of </br>
malevolent Huns </br>
and that cap might be </br>
</br>
the only weapon </br>
or useful disguise </br>
(you know, used to scratch </br>
or worn as a patch) </br>
that is small enough </br>
to smuggle or that </br>
</br>
we’re able to hide </br>
until we most need </br>
it ― as I replay </br>
it ― at the last minute </br>
So, I can’t blindly </br>
just throw it away
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-15029095606171757952013-06-04T16:07:00.000-04:002013-06-06T13:25:33.643-04:00Note to Self: The Bottom<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
Here’s the bottom </br>
line: is your poem </br>
</br>
of such robust </br>
spine and buxom </br>
</br>
embrace of such </br>
tonic balm such </br>
</br>
bouquet and taste </br>
of such sonic </br>
</br>
boom exquisite </br>
menu and coo </br>
</br>
that it might coax </br>
despairing toes </br>
</br>
off of spotlit </br>
ledges or bowed- </br>
</br>
down heads away </br>
from unlit stoves? </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-2513752525290451702013-06-02T23:22:00.001-04:002013-06-03T23:12:18.123-04:00Sermon :: Matthew 6:34<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<i>i.</i></br>
BETTER let tomorrow </br>
<i>let tomorrow</i> </br>
let tomorrow </br>
</br>
better let it take care </br>
<i>let it take care</i> </br>
care of itself. </br>
</br>
Listen little children ― </br>
Would I? Would you? </br>
Would this one here? </br>
</br>
Would we pull the covers </br>
of tomorrow </br>
onto our beds? </br>
</br>
And then the day after </br>
that? and then next </br>
week? and next month? </br>
</br>
All piled up. <i>All at once</i>. </br>
― Y’all go on and </br>
talk to me now ― </br>
</br>
As if we had ’em all. </br>
All the linen. </br>
All the bedclothes </br>
</br>
of a five-star hotel. </br>
And so piled up ― </br>
<i>stacked up</i> ― ceiling- </br>
</br>
high? Wouldn’t we smother </br>
beneath the weight </br>
and heat of them – </br>
</br>
tossing ourselves into </br>
our very own </br>
fiery furnace. </br>
</br>
Today is hot enough. </br>
<i>Heavy enough</i>. </br>
Trouble enough. </br>
</br>
<i>ii</i>.
</br>
WE’D be pinned flat down like </br>
a butterfly </br>
under a stack ― </br>
</br>
a big stack of flapjacks. </br>
That butterfly </br>
might melt but </br>
</br>
it’s not getting much sleep. </br>
Y’all hearing me? </br>
Be still my soul? </br>
</br>
I really don’t think so. </br>
That’s not stillness </br>
of our sweet souls </br>
</br>
my brothers and sisters. </br>
We <i>can</i> be still. </br>
<i>We can be still</i>. </br>
</br>
Because He wasn’t still. </br>
Jesus came down. </br>
<i>All the way down</i>. </br>
</br>
Some of you have heard this </br>
before. <i>Way down</i>. </br>
To Mary’s womb. </br>
</br>
Hand-him-down swaddling clothes. </br>
Pretty flimsy. </br>
<i>Like the lily</i>. </br>
</br>
Y’all got me distracted. </br>
So where was I? </br>
<i>Be still</i>. Our souls. </br>
</br>
We might be really still. </br>
But really grim. </br>
And beaten down. </br>
</br>
Our typical tossing </br>
and turning might </br>
stop. That’s for sure. </br>
</br>
<i>iii</i>.
</br>
BUT Jesus gives us rest. </br>
<i>For the weary.</i> </br>
But not pinned down. </br>
</br>
My Jesus was pinned down. </br>
So we don’t need </br>
to be pinned down. </br>
</br>
The biggest deed is done. </br>
<i>All the way done</i>. </br>
So we can rest. </br>
</br>
So we can sleep under </br>
the light light sheet </br>
of just today ― </br>
</br>
not that weigh-me-down shroud </br>
of days and weeks </br>
and months and years. </br>
</br>
There is a seven-star </br>
hotel. We need </br>
to go sleep there. </br>
</br>
And you can’t afford it. </br>
But it’s all free. </br>
<i>All the way paid</i>. </br>
</br>
Jesus says sleep under </br>
His cool covers – </br>
<i>It is finished</i>. </br>
</br>
His pollen soft, but warm. </br>
Diaphanous. </br>
Lily linen. </br>
</br>
And ev’ry. Body. Said. </br>
Amen. <i>Amen</i>. </br>
Sister Betty, </br>
</br>
come on up and lead us: </br>
<i>Come Ye Sinners, </br>
Poor and Needy</i>.
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-32394295607056765572013-06-01T11:22:00.000-04:002013-06-01T19:00:08.597-04:00Planting Beans<span style="width: 325px;display: block; font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
propping the shovel hoe and rake </br>
spooling out twine plunging the stakes </br>
kneeling dimpling the harrowed plot </br>
thumbing simple tombs in the pocks </br>
releasing the pink dusted bombs </br>
dozing over dirt with a palm </br>
<p align="right">
a display of faith this arming </br>
counting on another rising </br>
their pearl green necks rolling </br>
their respective stones exploding </br>
revealing in each yawning </br>
seed applauding </br>
</p>
a leaf a tongue </br>
the dumb report </br>
</span>
<p align="right">
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-440356372695078962013-05-31T19:11:00.000-04:002013-05-31T19:11:00.849-04:00Bird Man<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
In his younger </br>
years, when he was </br>
bung-full of sap, </br>
the mere shadowing </br>
of a swallow </br>
jetting past </br>
would spook his wool- </br>
gathering gaze. </br>
</br>
But now, the blue jay’s </br>
jeering and juking </br>
and the mocking </br>
bird’s mania </br>
and the mourning </br>
dove’s rugged flute </br>
are all drummed up </br>
inside his napping. </br>
</br>
Like funneled swifts </br>
down deep chimneys. </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-81361859963224433822013-05-29T21:51:00.000-04:002013-05-29T21:51:15.252-04:00Nurse :: Muse<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRllvEiER3xvKkXAyrQAlEluzUxpBkhHCs56bV1DMvfg0pTz8voG2-sQXQpeeT9g8hfvJTjh-PNPh7U98XpcjgNVrknVLNvUa8vwQR9YIp43QT64sExHtjI9hwL2YTmnP_TVbvDgbzg/s1600/Vapor+Ignition.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWRllvEiER3xvKkXAyrQAlEluzUxpBkhHCs56bV1DMvfg0pTz8voG2-sQXQpeeT9g8hfvJTjh-PNPh7U98XpcjgNVrknVLNvUa8vwQR9YIp43QT64sExHtjI9hwL2YTmnP_TVbvDgbzg/s320/Vapor+Ignition.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
flip my pillow </br>
over baby </br>
and let me feel </br>
your shading tree </br>
cradle my brain- </br>
pan with one hand </br>
while the other </br>
one does the deed </br>
</br>
rip the bandage </br>
from my body </br>
change the damage </br>
sop up the dream </br>
so distract me </br>
with your singing </br>
that you don’t ring </br>
a tear from me </br>
</br>
grip my ankles </br>
with your let-down </br>
hair and phantom </br>
some quickening </br>
there remember </br>
feathered Hermes </br>
was fashioned in </br>
the shadows of </br>
</br>
a cripple’s dancing </br>
fire </br>
</br>
</span>
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 11pt; line-height:105%;">
______________________________________________________________________</br>
Hephaestus was the Greek god of craftsmen, fire, and volcanoes. His Roman counterpart
was Vulcan. In addition to making the armour of Achilles, the girdle of Aphrodite,
the chariot of Helios, and the bow and arrows of Eros, he also fashioned the winged sandals (<i>talaria</i>) and helmet (<i>petasos</i>) of Hermes (Mercury). He says of himself in the Odyssey, Book VIII: “I was crippled from birth” (ἐγώ γε ἠπεδανὸς γενόμην).
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-71536557798383513452013-05-25T23:59:00.000-04:002013-05-26T00:25:31.479-04:00Chair<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
lowercase </br>
::h:: a place </br>
to drape your </br>
</br>
cape folder </br>
of bodies </br>
molder of </br>
</br>
laps a place </br>
for dandling </br>
for dancing </br>
</br>
lion tamer’s </br>
prop site of </br>
chess master’s </br>
</br>
endless loop </br>
the brawler’s </br>
favorite </br>
</br>
weapon the </br>
carpenter’s </br>
teetering </br>
</br>
throne balanced </br>
on the ledge </br>
of heaven </br>
</br>
the front two </br>
angel-lathed </br>
legs dangling </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-72054700430179716942013-05-22T19:31:00.000-04:002013-05-22T20:39:21.754-04:00Nesting<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTV9kVq8c-Gbq9EMKUVyZpfPsCO8scmSu91R2S3Ta7v9GISo6sJDGG4oSTW9aAl10hEWLzk9Kzg4c5m1IQ8jNSITecbjnIc4Rz_Nr19-Meq0zPysgeZ9ho4XNJKGrfhDyoTIuCEyDEXA/s1600/Blue+Swallow+on+Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTV9kVq8c-Gbq9EMKUVyZpfPsCO8scmSu91R2S3Ta7v9GISo6sJDGG4oSTW9aAl10hEWLzk9Kzg4c5m1IQ8jNSITecbjnIc4Rz_Nr19-Meq0zPysgeZ9ho4XNJKGrfhDyoTIuCEyDEXA/s320/Blue+Swallow+on+Sign.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
What beakable thing </br>
will catch the builder’s </br>
</br>
eye? a string ― a puff </br>
of doggy down ― </br>
</br>
yesterday’s feather ― </br>
All are viewed </br>
</br>
and weighed and tested </br>
― then taken </br>
</br>
or rejected ― </br>
All to sketch </br>
</br>
a hollow place </br>
a bird’s embrace </br>
</br>
a cup a crèche </br>
a pivot point for two </br>
</br>
blue </br>
worlds </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-53755154717654800052013-05-20T20:14:00.000-04:002013-05-20T20:14:00.565-04:00Mister D.<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXPVZGLOO4MBmbRqBCQXYTJ9xMKXYugl3XcSgFrN1MGTijrz8nesXdev8f4RiQf3omibzIFPJ4YEClwey9g-U9EsSi5CIEgJB1qVvzVTetihcZoBZFbirbg27aTZUfFVjJVhLESEDrA/s1600/Ice+Tea.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfXPVZGLOO4MBmbRqBCQXYTJ9xMKXYugl3XcSgFrN1MGTijrz8nesXdev8f4RiQf3omibzIFPJ4YEClwey9g-U9EsSi5CIEgJB1qVvzVTetihcZoBZFbirbg27aTZUfFVjJVhLESEDrA/s320/Ice+Tea.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
MISTER D. is </br>
always with me. </br>
</br>
He’s there, mugging </br>
in my mirror: </br>
</br>
tonguing his teeth, </br>
spritzing every </br>
</br>
perfume. Goofing off </br>
at the market: </br>
</br>
sampling cheeses </br>
and juggling fruit. </br>
</br>
AND there he is, </br>
near my lover’s </br>
</br>
bed ― even when </br>
fevered fingers </br>
</br>
are climbing my </br>
spine ― waving </br>
</br>
that silly scythe, </br>
making some nice </br>
</br>
shadows and lights </br>
for the seeming, </br>
</br>
but very </br>
little breeze. </br>
</br>
MISTER D. is always </br>
with me.
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-43090305195363382112013-05-19T13:40:00.000-04:002013-05-19T13:40:08.281-04:00Prayer: Confession & Adoration<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJnBY0u39myfRjzeMyHZGJK9t-6qvR-GtsnSF2V9VSe9kTkEYYgkEXEau6ASOls_xXf0eKfpMvhH_VMtYdl-ygzJjhH_fc2Tj980bRWM3DomGT93ydsVJzvN5A36vugccIZIuNyHw6w/s1600/Pony+on+Windy+Day+-+Grayson+Highlands.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinJnBY0u39myfRjzeMyHZGJK9t-6qvR-GtsnSF2V9VSe9kTkEYYgkEXEau6ASOls_xXf0eKfpMvhH_VMtYdl-ygzJjhH_fc2Tj980bRWM3DomGT93ydsVJzvN5A36vugccIZIuNyHw6w/s320/Pony+on+Windy+Day+-+Grayson+Highlands.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
When I am </br>
weak and when </br>
</br>
am I not </br>
weak? </br>
</br>
When I am </br>
wicked and when </br>
</br>
am I not </br>
wicked? </br>
</br>
When I am </br>
worried and when </br>
</br>
am I not </br>
worried? </br>
</br>
You are power </br>
pure and sure. </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-76119669117654120382013-05-16T20:21:00.002-04:002013-05-16T20:22:34.784-04:00Pen Pals
<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kMLZMpukzAReYv7j5LB25IyneoZD8cCqFJSRfpG6fANK90EC9HPIU3ylf6Aj6Jh7fsTJg-XuXJBeDx-LBmmNUS39-hWeXB4n92J8s0U5aCx51zqoSpAxxJHi4yddqUj4OgX10sgUFA/s1600/Dandelion.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7kMLZMpukzAReYv7j5LB25IyneoZD8cCqFJSRfpG6fANK90EC9HPIU3ylf6Aj6Jh7fsTJg-XuXJBeDx-LBmmNUS39-hWeXB4n92J8s0U5aCx51zqoSpAxxJHi4yddqUj4OgX10sgUFA/s320/Dandelion.jpg" /></a>
</br></br>
FROM: Afro Sheen </br>
of Silver Seed </br>
</br>
TO: Dandy Lion </br>
of Yellow Mane </br>
</span>B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-81799354069951260082013-05-14T20:07:00.000-04:002013-05-14T20:07:26.950-04:00Plump Robin <span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
Plump Robin </br>
o, you swag </br>
so, when you fly </br>
</br>
each down-beating </br>
of your wings </br>
up brings a crest </br>
</br>
and then the trough </br>
― when wings come up ― </br>
of waving sine </br>
</br>
Your flight’s </br>
a fancied garland </br>
unwound from yonder </br>
</br>
tree ― the galloping </br>
Richter's </br>
pencil ― the scallops </br>
</br>
of tremor's tinsel ― </br>
a stretch of your E </br>
KG </br>
</br>
In a dream </br>
― I shan’t say whose ― </br>
upside down </br>
</br>
someone dreamed </br>
you flew </br>
O, winsome swimmer </br>
</br>
your lantern breast </br>
bobbing ― a constant </br>
crest ― </br>
</br>
O, Plump Robin </br>
o, how you flew </br>
</span>B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-73134471758278638212013-05-10T13:22:00.000-04:002013-05-12T21:11:07.445-04:00Driving Around after the Reunion, with my Wife (the Former Cheerleader) Asleep in the Back Seat, Relishing my Rival’s Demise<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
She’s sleeping soundly </br>
I’m driving roundly </br>
all up and downly </br>
our homely townly </br>
</br>
O, there’s the store-y </br>
where we adore-y </br>
’way-laid her ringly </br>
and out danced singly </br>
</br>
And speaking of-ly </br>
my sleeping lovely </br>
and other way-lies </br>
of ’waying laidly </br>
</br>
Since Dirk was deadly </br>
it could be saidly </br>
she was finally minely </br>
for all timely </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9175950398286031109.post-28634933004363796392013-05-07T22:01:00.000-04:002013-05-07T22:16:44.679-04:00After the Annunciation: X Marks the Spot<span style="font-family: Garamond; font-size: 16pt; line-height:115%;">
<i>i.</i></br>
SHE bit me on the arm </br>
when I tried to hold her </br>
</br>
AFTER she told me and </br>
I didn’t believe her. </br>
</br>
SHE didn’t draw blood but </br>
the mark was there for days. </br>
</br>
ANGRY didn’t quite </br>
describe it – she was crazy. </br>
</br>
<i>ii.</i></br>
SURE. I bit him. When I dashed </br>
away, he captured </br>
</br>
from behind – seizing my wrists – </br>
then X-ing all four </br>
</br>
of our arms across my breast. </br>
So, I bit down. Hard. </br>
</br>
Off to see Elizabeth. </br>
HOPE it leaves a mark. </br>
</span>
B.R.http://www.blogger.com/profile/09073468276343663348noreply@blogger.com2