Category: spiritual
-
Choking on Colossians 3:18
Last year, you cut the vine choking young trees in your yard Rhythmic sucking sounds haunt trees Leave scars where sap drained from flesh This morning, rotted pieces fell from sky you gather tinder by the wood pile 10-23-26
-
Poem before dying
Lorca wrote of roosters, of eating cemetery grass, of weeping little boys, of snow, of guitars, of murder, of women dropping off to sleep, of a resurrection that will never come, and he makes me weep. I write of barking dogs and feral cats, of trash on asphalt courts, of weeping little boys, of warm…
-
poem before dying
Lorca wrote of roosters, of eating cemetery grass, of weeping little boys, of snow, of guitars, of murder, of women dropping off to sleep, of a resurrection that will never come, and he makes me weep. I write of barking dogs and feral cats, of trash on asphalt courts, of weeping little boys, of warm…
-
beside distilled water
because our kitchen is too small because we do not have counter space for one of those filtration units that extract death from city water we religiously recycle plastic bottles in a blue plastic barrel the city provides when I exercise, I sweat profusely sit on the porch and guzzle store bought water through a…
-
for Nick Vulpi
Today, we drove to mile marker 99; nothing special to see; Nothing says that last week a visitor from Canada Stopped to offer help to a young man we knew as boy What did he say and what was the reply? Simple words of kindness shared, lost in the gore Of another drunk behind the…
-
Goodbye Mary
How many tenants have you known? Do you know movers come today? When did you become holy? Was it when they pulled you from the mold Loaded the truck, shipped you to a garden shop Tagged, sold and someone took you home? Was it the act of setting you on a wall or When lichen…
-
Remains of Summer, Mary #3
(poem three from a possible Concrete Mary series) Seven days remain of summer one week, a quarter of a moon before daylight gives way to night, before solstice haunts the dark, before the snow, before the ice, before the earth tilts away, before it’s too cold to fly butterflies and bees will suck the last…
-
Lawn ornaments (Mary #2)
(poem two from a possible Concrete Mary series) Like a drippy faucet in the next room The old gutter leaks slow on aluminum awning In the drizzle, chipmunks scurry Unafraid at the feet of a plastic owl Immovable as a straw man crucified In a field to protect ears of corn Concrete Mary still holds…
-
Mequbbal
Do you ever think that a prophecy is pre-existent somewhere – somehow That a prophet is just returning to the past to drag us kicking and screaming into the future Like our parents lecturing us on the living room couch that someday we would understand Someday is now and we are living that promised future…
My husband's poetry 