Wednesday, March 17, 2010


I started writing
you a love poem but when I got
somewhere past the second
line I found myself digressing, putting forth
hypotheses on the nature of man and the immutable
will of a God whose endless
gifts began, after existence, with free
will and there were clouds in my poem,
there were sunflowers, all manner
of signs of the silent romances between sheared sheep
at pasture (and I mean that

in a good way) I tried to tell
you that I love you like the shallow
puddle that the frog you say you are has
found but when I told my words
to sound in the hollows of some
dark and gurgling throat, my heart came stumbling
out of an open

mouth so I titled it “Theology” and let it
flounder, nearly done