Tag Archives: Jesus

Psalm 151: Or, of broken women and a host of drug-addicted men

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I don’t watch zombie shows but know something about what

emerges from thy dank wood in the boonies, Lord –

have as need be hid behind equal trees,

backing and circling ever outward, dodging

hands and cool blank eyes, upward yes

into the air, “free” of it all, now, over there.

 

But you, wide and ghostly, neither leave nor solve

but hang, steady as the mist, as drops on ferns,

spores of the underside, your heart

rotting out the log. Till when? – we change?

Your breath is gone, but hold it still.

For we’ll not, ever, no matter what we’ve got,

(hell if we will)

change.

Mr. Cantankerous

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They say we’re evolving into robots,

or rather,

six-million-dollar men, adjusted for inflation,

or actually deflation,

since we’ll become cheaper to make,

and we’ll be everywhere, like plastic stuff

no one wants (not now, though later they will).

“People 2.0” we’ll be, they say,

though no self-respecting robot

would use that term. We don’t

go around calling ourselves

“the chimps” now, now do we?

So yes, we’ll be off flying ourselves

through space in ships oiled to light

beams, just ahead, I suppose,

of the bombs we’ve built

and the rising sea with all the

dead fish in it (it’s a vision

of hope, as I understand it, a new

chance to get it right).

Meanwhile, though, I’m stuck on this

future trash pile on Good Friday

2017, clinging to my cross,

a chimp and chump weak in the wind

of God 2.0