Someone with his key has
tagged my window – scratch
scratch his little itch – so
I see him and not
the water the school the wood –
see his soul stretched. Yes,
I see and am with him, I am
in him now and go with him.
I go with him all around.
Tag Archives: poetry
The blacker the branch
The blacker the branch, the
redder the eye that
peers knowingly in my room
When I was sick and could fly
Once while
sick at school
in the nurse’s bed
I thought of spies
and crossed the room
and never tripped the alarm
That the most natural things are the most painful looking back
Not calling.
It ending.
Never saying thanks.
Running
A rigor short of mortis
Biking the rainbow
Troubled by the flood below
The delicate language of sports
The action occasions silence and
periodic utterance, your analysis topping
that of the experts.
As always there is theory to consider,
one’s own team
and injury,
Saturday’s opponent,
the coach’s strategy…
All of this really is
about this,
though hearts step up to speak it.
For Kevin Cooley
And for Pieter
Four wry ditties, or salvation in a cranky nutshell
1
FROM BABEL WE ROSE
Stacking our pile of hearts
2
GOD KNOCKED US DOWN
So we lifted him up
3
HE TURNED ALL INTO LOVE ON THE CROSS
4
BAH!
When one man twists, he turns them all
The mystery of our relevance
What are we to
He who is
priest, prophet and
sacrificial lamb?
Morning doors
Morning doors open to
birds and
dandy
seeds of the lion drifting
Utrecht Journal 