A rigor short of mortis
Tag Archives: poetry
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
Lost-person algorithms
Neither math nor dogs
will lead us there
Breakfast
How can nothing be something?
I don’t know, but it is all the time.
And the opposite is also true.
Tinier than a man can see
I had thought light and then dust
was my enemy, but then I saw the mold,
spores of it skipping from the window to the shelf
to the tops of the books below.
These freckles I bleached.
Till I dreamt of them, swirling.
Not for fear but love did I dream –
for he in whom the cancer had spread –
of microbursts and a metastatic sky.
Trickster
God has put himself
there, too, where,
God knows,
we shouldn’t go
