And turned it all into facts
Tag Archives: poetry
Dispersion
Can you shoo a ghost
away like smoke,
do you
hurt its heart when you do?
I crack the mind its knuckles
To pop the day it plans
The beginning of the end
It started with salt.
The doctor said,
If you would
not be dead,
eat no more.
So he didn’t.
Not even on apples.
From not which came,
but still it came,
the fall. He fell,
not dead, but
hit his head –
on the tub, she
found him on the floor.
Alive is alive
till truly it’s dead
(though to God, you see,
no one is dead).
The ambulance came.
From church he was led
to his just end of salt
on apples evermore.
In loving memory of John Peter Sondgerath (D. 19 April 1979)
Preview of the eschaton
I perked up, for you had arrived.
Or had you? As I listened, you
stepped back and faded
into that which I thought I had heard.
How many heroes have ended this way?
He hops on one hip,
the one that still works,
while the hard floor waits
for the codger to fall.
Love demurs
Who am I
to say to you
what you should do?
Birds bring word in their dirty breeze
Trees are chopping down the forest,
and fish are killing the seas
In the snow
I am in the park in the dark under layers
of cloud. I could be in bed,
or dead. But I’m not. I’m here.
I’m almost surely, certainly here.
God gave us a boomerang
But we call it the mind.
Utrecht Journal 