Saturday, April 30, 2011


:learn as you go. I kind of like
running into crowds with my eyes closed.
Too bad I never done it. Like to see
not trying; I’d like to see it. Lord,
let me:

Land Ho

Go ahead. Rock
my boat-full-of-holes, it’s not like I
don’t know you want to, don’t know
you (don’t you know. Don’t)
rock my boat. I am not begging
but asking you, don’t.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Exodus 16

so slippery symbols. Like milk, like bread or. I am always running away, not slippery but tractless. Not lost just lacking. Direction. I am (never) running. So slipping on wet bread on puddles of milk left over. Am I? hungry. Skin and bones, over run and running over t(r)actless I am so symbolic so oh full through my feet so. I can. Feed. Myself.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I’m tired of agreeing with yesmakers
who make only one kind of rain. Like Oprah.
Suffer a million more of your afflictions?
Sure. A single false
promise or pleasure more hurts more,
deadens to a thousand joys,
feeds new kinds of bitter roots.
But thank you for the gettings soaked,
and the way your whispering is. Even when cryptic.

Who else can boast of a husband as I have, Lord? Who else can say of their God, He holds the universe with his left hand, and the brokenhearted with his right? The best I’ve heard of men is that they have a fleeting passion for and a lasting self-control around their wives, and of gods that they draw hearts into imaginary joys and shifting sand beaches with paper waves. But you love fiercely and forever, jealously, to the point of sweating blood and volunteering to be betrayed and mocked and hung up like meat. You, the maker of the ocean and the moon that turns the tides and the sun that warms the earth and the sea within it and gives it life. Who am I to be called “your loved one”? I feel your hands on my face.


You don’t let fall let down,
not squirm away into righteousbyworksness and its un-
comfortable semigospel guilt, so
dull-spiked, twist-turny and cold.

Yeah But Why Do This

Play is real
ly important and so is feeling
free. The boundary lines have fallen
for us in pleasant places, in pastures
whose lambs aren’t unthinking
but unconcerned: abandon
that follows the wind

It's Been Good Thank You for Asking, But

Sure it’s nice to get back to simplicity, me
and self-seen baby-skinned, but
when you clean out the house and don’t get
someone big to live in it, little happy
me can’t stand alone against the wolves
and thieves.

Wait here; someone’s knocking at the door—

Where did my mind go

Where did my mind go
did my mind go
a dog
a dog

Needing to Be Stronger than Need

I flick away each cause
behind the swing of arm that is I love you.
Good news doesn’t
hit me; I know how to defend.

I Am Not the Self I Am Wanting

My neighbors turn the hip hop up till
all the echoes of my day are rolled like children
in the sea out of my head.
Thank you, sir behind the wall, and ma’am, sir’s wife.
You see how much sense I make,
and dollars, working hard, my dolors hard-working,
yes the sea of me seen by drowning eyes.

The Fox Ran Hard But Now It's Finished

The room is breathing again, gently,
just a little, gently,
like a dog done panting, having reached the fleece-and-feather
sea of sleep at foot of chasing day.

You cannot, from the outside,
know the untethered moment
between shut-eyed waiting and shut-eyed gone

The room is expanding, softly,
softly to contract,
enjoying the smell of being alive.
And my vision is blurry but it is sound.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Proverbs 12

Why do I hear nothing but cutting
condemnation? so ready
to hear hell in
I hate text messages
and sighs and dirty

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Who Here, by Worrying, Can?

I am not sure where my keys are but I’m pretty
certain that screaming won’t carry them any

Tuesday, April 5, 2011


In the paintings you are looking
up but when I turn to you your kind wise eyes
are full and levelled at me,

at me like cannons. Sink my ship;
white flag, flags in both my hands, flags
everywhere, white, ready for your sign,
your drawing.