Saturday, May 29, 2010

John 3:6

The Spirit is not
an idea; he is
the brain-cooling tender-hand
that holds us, helps us, smoothes us
and rebukes us. The Spirit is a man
in men who speaks

only what he hears; and we know
only what he tells; we’re hanging on
his message from the lip-water
voice of Daddy heavenly, our God.

Romans 2:14

The limit of man-
minds? Why, it’s the radius
of a floral-print patient’s foot-circle
quiet on grassy hills against
the sunset boring. That should be obvious.
The question is really
Who cares? Who wants to transgress
their own law little?
Find me the man
who will.

Thursday, May 27, 2010


The press of it; the hot-and-helpless
crawling toe-to-head-to-toe-to-head-to. I cannot

See, I just can’t make one more
decision that decides me. Do decide. I want

unforsaking/not-forsook. I do not want
Much I do not want. I do not

know what to now not to, what to
Do you know me? completely?

I cannot stand
the press of it; I can’t stand

Talking about this is very much like
chewing blood—

(I’m not anorexic, just not
Hungry) (for righteousness, am I)? If

only I knew whether and where
I could stand.

Do you
Know me please.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

[found & titled poem]*

*credit to VHam, secret poet & awesome human

To the Bank-of-American Financial Specialist in Your Timbuktu Call Booth Probably Plastered with Perfume and Pillows, From the Great-Granddaughter of a V(ERY) I(MPORTANT) P(ERSON), Regarding the Co-signing of Certain V(ery) I(mportant) L(oans)

GIVE ME $$$$

Joe DiMaggio

(Marilyn Monroe)
So many dollars

Just take my dollars 

I’m going to buy Yankee Stadium

Romans 12:5

It was unusually sunny the day the Body went walking
the city, its sidewalks glaring, so bright the Body bought
sunglasses gold and black from a side-stand, bodies
passing as hands passed the glasses to the Body for her cash.
They were white hands, white as the red eyes red
with swelling and eyeing the Body
were red (amid the clicking of coins
clicking almost like song-sung). Her husband was waiting

at home for her, had a surprise
ready: Beloved! Look, tickets
to the heights and the depths of the earth,

he rehearsed, pacing the floor of their bedroom

with strong joy steps.
But when her thoughts turned to him she was bored

and wandered on farther. At the corner, her eye
caught sight of fluorescent light (almost as bright
as the sun, but not quite, just more neon)
that spelled Come in to Havana, Drinks only $5, and before
the red hand gave way to the white man, her pinky
had flown, jumped ship, aborted

and was making its way across the street-crossing.
What the hell? she wondered, wandering
Hell’s Kitchen indeed, passing a restaurant—
Brazil Brazil—felt her foot fall off
and inch, heel-to-toe, toward the door. She started fuming

a little, limping along (I look like an idiot) mumbles made
under her breath so the passing ears
of the passing bodies wouldn’t hear, when
her lips and her tongue cried, Be right back! and jumped
from her face to share a man’s friendly free cigarette.
She sat on the bright sidewalk under her dark thoughts
and moaned from an open throat

quietly; it had been a bad day.
She sat, till the back of her head burned, till a shadow
sunk the sun and seemed to say, What happened?
and her husband pressed his arm around her shoulder, whose arm
had meanwhile tired of her groaning and gone to play.


Something chews me, has got its lips
around the corner of my heart, is
piercing peeled-tomato
flesh and mashing
me like meat, like beef ground, and I
say Stop it, am flinging my long arms wide
and my sharp nails but
it is inside me, it is too late, is it
inside me, is it too late, is it? (Fling my soft arms wide


Hey man I said what's
up seriously He said oh hey
I'm hurting
Oh yeah I ask
Yeah Robin and I
Where are you
we fought yesterday I found out
man it was bad
I'm in a bad place Listen I said
it's all right is it over
I don't know he answered everything
feels different you know like
someone somewhere watching leering I've never
felt this before my stomach keeps turning
Listen I said you didn't need her
anyway you can bounce
Adam where are you
back fish in the sea the pond
and all that

Heart Heavy / Heart Under

Heart heavy / heart
under ages
of rhythmic constructions of
gods not God
and God

in our image / I am


Fourteen Steps to a Full Day

Wake up. Grind yourself some coffee beans.
Pretend you taste the difference (fresh or old).
Pretend you want coffee. Say mmm! all fresh, not cold
or mechanical. Grind some extra for tomorrow,
too tired to wake two minutes early.
Say hello to the sun through the window
so streaked with slime and I-don’t-care
your mother has evaded invitation thirteen years

but who’s counting.
Sniff the kind of bright new air
three times and stretch your arms dramatically.
It’s a new day, say seven times,
making sure to move your lips
and count your fingers.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

My Soul Sighs

My soul sighs,
deep and wide beneath the spreading
cloud. My heart mends
itself not at all; I ask What
do you want? What is it?
staring through the ribcage
out. What do you want? and she sighed,
eying the spreading fingers of cloud
and the bright face beaming behind it.