Posts for June 10, 2020 (page 5)

The least of these
they will call you, and make of you
an example of the Lord’s Great Love.

His eye is on the spider –
you will not fall
from His grace.

Even the hairs on your fingerprints
are numbered.

Corndog…

CD,

Mr. Perfect Paws,

Little Man,

Baby Tooth,

Tiny Tooth,

Lil Tooth,

Corncob,

Cobby,

Baby Corn,

Cobberson,

Cobberson Mgee,

Baby Boy,

Babin,

Cornini Panini,

Mister Man,

Little Boy,

Mister,

quit ignoring me

like you’ve forgotten your name(s).

there is a nostalgia
in the waiting storm
of the cool, morning humidity
the creek is a chorus
as it flows over the mossy rocks
and the birds squawk in the trees

there is a complex romance
in the sweat
embracing love without purpose
to allow the hollowing
to consume you
there is a contentedness, here
an abandonment of the fear
of the leaving
and loneliness of the future

so i baptize myself
in the chilling water
and i pray; i hope

In early spring I hung clumps
of unspun wool from tree limbs

By June they are gone, some taken
on the fly, all now braided

into nests to cushion hatchlings
and warm obsidian hours

If only I could fly from tree to tree
pluck words from sturdy branches

and stitch stanzas scented with birdsong

With ears

Vibrations
A physical force
that thumps percussionary patterns between bones
A tiny drum that mirrors
The great shaking of the world

With nerves

Vibrations
Translated through lightning
storms domesticated by flesh
A waterfall of chemistry
Twisting molecules and overflowing potentials
Tripping switches to pass
a message
Between cell walls

With a brain

Vibrations
Turning trembling air into
Trembling words 
It is the register
the realization
the experiencing
Sounds become
words become
meaning

With memories

Those patterns beget patterns until
Every word is hanging in the air
Suspended by a web of
Networked history
Nuance and context

There is listening
And there is listening
You can hear
sounds
Without hearing
Intention
Emotion
Context
Sincerity

To listen
You must be
Respectful
Reflective
Searching for the gaps left in your own web
Seeking an understanding
beyond the definitions of each word used

To listen
You must seek to understand

You can hear a thousand words
And never hear what I meant to say
If you don’t listen

with a heart

I BELIEVE
I believe in Daddy’s lap
In its bigness and its never-ending depth.
I believe in Daddy’s bald spot
Where if you rubbed it, it would shine.
I believe in Daddy’s ties
That he pulled off as soon as he got home
And Daddy’s short sleeve polyester guaiaveras
That he wore on Saturday just because.
I believe in weekends with Daddy
And the smells of the grilled hamburgers
And the lines across the grilled chicken
And the sizzle of briquettes
And mom’s barbecue sauce that made
You never want any other sauce ever again.
I believe in the pool that Daddy would go swimming
With his little girl
And the river where I used to catch minnows
The one where my brothers were going
To spend a dark summer night
But were scared by the sounds of the woods
And I believe in every single ballet or glee club recital that Daddy went to
In the hottest auditorium
On the rainiest day
And the Daddy that said, “My that was good”
Even though I couldn’t sing a note to earn my supper.
And I believe in Daddy who loved me enough to let me go just to get me back
For a time only to let me go again, because it was something I had to do.
I believe in Daddy. I love him always.

your symbol

is the same character,

but upside down

and reversed,

spaced apart,

but facing each other.

we were

the same,

until you flipped

upside down on me,

and not in the way

i would crave the most.

you’re facing me,

with the same smirk

i painfully recognize,

reversed, 

going the opposite direction,

and spaced apart

just far enough,

i couldn’t reach for you

if even tried

They are going bad.
I don’t know if
I’ll have to throw away
half a box of strawberries

because I can’t seem to
eat them fast enough
or because it is predetermined:
I only will eat so many

but–
Law of Strawberry or nature of time–
they don’t taste half so good
without you. 

as i sit on this cliff ledge,
feet dangling over 
the kentucky river,
my fingertips trace 
the impressions left by
fossilized creatures who lived
back when this land was 
under and ocean 

people tread over the impressions
so they can view 
the forested landscape
surrounding the slow-moving vein 
of bluegrass beauty 

i wonder, 
centuries from now,
if this river will still be here?
if this land will still be called kentucky?
if my countenance will be immortalized in stone
for people to walk over?

Whispers seep upward
through caked gallows
soil. 

You’ve silenced thee. Spat on thee.
Beaten thee. Hanged thee.  

Shall the onlookers cease gawking long enough to see? 

Will their sense of comfort and correctness belay their humanity? 

Like the pinnacle of a waxing moon the breath of the persecuted hangs in the air— 

Let the color of our blood redden your teeth stained. Let our flayed flesh forever fill your mouths. And may you drown in the drink of the memories of flopped tongues and soiled thighs. 

For the time is upon you to reel.  

For the time is upon us to ruin. 

For its time demands ceremony—  

Not on high but on the level of all human kind.  

Now the souls of Golgotha,
those captured in skullduggery,
and lowered in mastery.  

They—
They lack the ability
to lie in liberty,
while the noose of servitude
Breathes life.   

So burn your crosses
And unleash your dogs.
Go ahead and arm your men
with propaganda and lead.  

Just remember what your bible says—He who strays from the path of understanding
keeps company with the dead.