How would and when proud
astride the wind you go?
With beauty and time you never know.
Our living is dying. God made it so.
Tag Archives: poetry
Sergeant Miller held the sky
Sergeant Miller held the sky
while my father and I
said goodbye.
Trees lay down.
Wolves prowled the ground.
Our words were hard like a hammer.
Men will be bled. Men will be gone.
Men will lock hearts in the slammer.
A regular story
Rubens wonders
how to put that ripple of unrest
in Paradise where it doesn’t belong.
It can’t be there — or how then,
for won’t then
Heaven, too, be spoiled?
He sleeps and dreams Eve,
who comes wanting not knowing —
and in an arc the dream falls
from the snake to the woman to the man.
For Jim and Nancy Forest
Because of the junk
When my grandma put up her fence
it wasn’t because of the neighbors.
It was because of the junk.
They’d never done anything and
she’d never done anything.
But she didn’t have to look at it.
They’d all have to look at the fence, though.
And at, behind it, the open heart of man —
at Adam atop his heart cleaving.
Flash / flood
Flash
needle-like
so thin the heart
knows without feeling
(flood)
the changes that it brings
Moses had water from the rock
And I too if you gut me will give
A little of you there
You’ll be delighted to know that you
register anywhere in anyone’s mind,
a flicker, the wavering line.
Hardly alive in yourself, there’s a
little of you there.
Of cats and secret codes
Would that women were so
open with their readiness, crying
“Come get me” in the night —
“Come get me” — while the
neighbors grumble, “What
is that?” and shut their windows
against the excess of need.
Totally believable
Life dishes out its unbelievable burdens
except it’s totally believable
because it happens every day
You wild-eyed and sweaty
From a drug or perhaps
lack of the same or,
I think now, your alarm
at our knock and all that that
might mean
Utrecht Journal 