Saturday, June 30, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
mean color challenged days
of deforested ambition, a
gaunt and dampened mood.
No star-struck bits of lace
to crystallize attention
and liven up the view.
No silent print of fox who
journeyed through the quarry
secretly at night.
Instead, a plainsong chant
with poverty of pitches
like bumblebees in flight
and colors that recall old
along the carriage road.
Such winters never grieve
at leaving us uncovered
and shivering in the cold.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Lord is my seatbelt but it’s up to me
to wrap it around myself. The Lord is a
self-defense course for my granddaughters
but they must show up for the classes. The
Lord is a peace table for the world but we
have to make our way to the seats.
There are no more swords and shields and
bucklers, just the stealth of unmanned bombs
sighted by silent computers. Sometimes
I yearn for an old-time thunderbolt to hurl at
unthinking drivers round about me or a parting
of the seas to swallow up the rude;
or maybe five smooth stones and a slingshot.
I do not go daily into the fray any longer so
it’s hard to find my enemies, but I know they
are out there searching for unguarded moments.
Maybe we could find a way to use dark matter
to hide us from the unmannerly and the unhinged.